Well, at least she isn't swallowing quarters or swords or anything.

I swear that the Tooth Fairy must have a summer home in my daughter's lower intestines. She swallowed her sixth lost tooth sometime today. I went looking for it about the house, but I am pretty sure she swallowed this one just like all the rest.

And there is NO WAY I am going after it.

I asked her doctor the first time she swallowed one if she would be OK. He said that they are small and she should be alright but to just make sure I check for her throwing up blood or pooping blood. Oh, and if I wanted to save the tooth for posterity then I would have to wait until it came out of her posterior and go treasure hunting for it. Um...no. Ewww.

I discovered the missing tooth when she came up to me this evening and asked for waffles for dinner. She had already had a couple earlier today, and I said, "Yeah, I guess so."

In Punk's mind, that meant, "Absolutely anything you want and please go make it yourself."

So I get up off the couch when I hear her rooting around in the freezer and then shut the door. By the time I got in there, she is up on the stool grinning at me and telling me that she made 3 waffles. Sure enough, there are waffles in the toaster. FOUR of them. I admonished her for making so many, and told her she was never going to eat that many (yeah right...this is Punk we are talking about...a pure carbivore, that one) as she was grinning proudly at me for doing it all by herself. I noticed the tooth was gone with that smile. I questioned her about what happened to the tooth and got 12 different versions of what MAY have happened. She has a vivid imagination.

I went back through the house looking to see if I could find the tooth, meanwhile my 5 year old had piled all the waffles on a plate and made a bee line back to the bedroom where she was currently engrossed in her latest favorite Disney movie.

She is growing up so fast.

By the time she is a teenager, she should be able to poop a condo made of teeth. If there really is a tooth fairy, I feel so sorry for her.

We interupt this blog to interject a brief belief (and a WUW)

Rob Thomas, the singer/songwriter, wrote an article for Huffington Post today. I personally think it ROCKED OUT LOUD! He made several well thought out, articulate, and well expressed statements of his beliefs. While this article may raise some hackles of some readers, I think if most people thought along the same lines as he does, this world would be a much better place.

Just step away from the controversy and think about the concept of fighting for the underdog.

Here is an excerpt from the article if you don't want to read the whole thing that I thought was especially well written.

I believe that America is a great nation of even greater people. I also believe
that anyone who says that this is a "Christian nation" has RHS, or revisionist
history syndrome, and doesn't realize that most of our founding fathers were
either atheist or at least could see, even in the 1700s, that all through Europe
at the time, religion was the cause of so much persecution that they needed to
put into their brand new constitution a SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE so that the ideals of a group of people could never be forced onto the whole. (I also
find it funny when people point out to me that it says "one nation under god" in
our pledge of allegiance, not realizing that this was an addition made in 1954
during the communism scare of the McCarthy era. It's not surprising, however,
knowing that these same people would punch me in the mouth if I called Jesus a
Jew.)

Thank you and we now return you to your regularly scheduled WUW (What's Up Wednesday?)

Because I am just like a brothel for germs.

They just keep coming and coming and coming to party all over my body with plenty of extra lube (snot and phlegm) and they leave me all spent and exhausted in the morning because I haven't had any sleep.

Fuckers.

A friend of mine called to see how I was doing and when he heard I was sick again, his exact words were, "What? Again? Are you faking it? You have to be one of the sickest people I have met! And I mean that in the nicest possible way..."

On to other news...I think I sprained my eyeballs from rolling them at FCBSis this past week. So many issues there, that it would take a whole 'nother blog post to get it all out. I assure you when the viral orgy is done with my body I will elaborate.

One thing I did want to share, Punk can now read.

So knock me over with a feather and pick my ass up off the floor. When the hell did she learn that? I have been trying forever and no such luck. The school told me she never cooperates.

I am standing in the lobby of the hotel and there are three coffee urns (regular, bold and decaf) plus a smaller urn with hot water in it for tea. I make myself a cup of bold and standing next to me is Punk. She looks at the small urn and slowly says...."Hhh-hot wuh-wuh-water."

There were no pictures. Nothing to indicate that was what it said. She just sounded out the letters and BOOM!! My jaw hit the floor in disbelief. My 5 year old just read. I started doing a happy dance in the lobby. I was jumping up and down and congratulating her and she was looking at me the exact same way the rest of the lobby staff was.

LIKE I HAD JUST LOST MY EVERLOVING MIND.

Bah! I don't care! My kid can read!! Take that Einstein! Up yours Steven Hawking!

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow then, Punk?"

"Tomorrow, we shall take over the world."

What's Up Wednesday?

So..if you came here yesterday, you know what's up with me. By the time you read this, I will be knee deep in and not give a damn that it is even Wed-Nes-Day.

So what's up with your Wednesday? Hmm? Come on! Share! I'm talking to you. Yeah you...the lurker over there in the corner that comes here for the giggles but doesn't even bother to share a word vert. Come on! Tell me how your life is going!

What The Farklenuts???

I posted a post yesterday, but it seems like it didn't show up in anyones readers or bloglists.

It's finally happened.

Blogger is spanking my ass for my naughty non-posting behavior of late.

Maybe this will show up.

Look for WUW to post later today. I will be on the road hopefully heading away from all this dadblasted rain.

We're off to dump the parents. Who knew dead people could swim?

Yep, that's right. Off to a little mini-vacation to dispose of the FCBMom and FCBDad. I am going to be stuck in a condo with FCB and FCBSis for 3 days. We are dumping the ashes in the ocean per request of the dead people. I guess they wanted to have a swimmingly good time in the afterlife.
The good news is there will be lots of this and this



and this.... And I get to spend some quality pool time with the Punk.

The bad news is...I will more than likely have to do all the cooking and cleaning and not get to watch what I want to watch on TV. Eh. Because did I mention?



So worth putting up with the FCB clan.

In trying to book this little mini vacation, FCB called the hotel directly to get the best rate. The guy on the phone, named Patrick, quoted him a price of $430+. Frustrated, FCB handed me the phone and said, "do what you do."

At least he has lived with me long enough to know that I can talk a man dying of thirst out of his last glass of water.

So I got on the phone and said, "Patrick, my good man, what can you do for me? We stayed there about a year ago and had an absolutely wonderful time. It was lovely. Coincidentally, while we were there, they had a little funeral service by the pool that was then moved down to the private beach where they scattered the remains. It was lovely. We are going to be there in your area disposing of 'Mom and Dad' and we want to stay there with you to make it all as pleasant a memory as possible. Now, when we stayed there, we just had the one deluxe room with kitchen, but as we are going to have more people with us this time, we need a little more space. What do you have?"


He then told me that they had a 2 bedroom or a 1 bedroom suite with a pull out couch. Thinking about our wallet and the fact that the FCBSis is cheap and more than likely not going to throw in, I asked about the 1 bedroom suite with the pull out. He quoted me a price.

"Patrick, (heavy sigh) I understand that you must charge a certain rate for each room. I get that. But we are GRIEVING. Are you aware of how much it costs to just BBQ a person now-a-days? Seriously. Give me a break here. When we were there last year, we only paid $160 a night. How close can you get me to that price? Preferably on the lower side of that price. Come on...make my day, here."

He then told me since prices are up from last year, the room we had last year would be $167 this year. He hemmed and hawed a bit and then said he could let me have the one bedroom with the pull out for that price.

To which I replied, "Patrick, I love you and I want to bear your children!"

He laughed and said that was really sweet of me, but that he batted for the other team.

So we got the room for cheap...well...cheaper than $400+ a night. That and I am so going to try to hunt down Patrick when I get there for some more laughs and good conversation. You can never have too many gay friends.

So, I am off to enjoy some of while escaping a whole bunch of hopefully.

Don't hate.

I am out of the coma!

Not really in a coma. But I bet you did think that after I was all bloggy all over the place 2 weeks ago and non-existent last week. I have no excuse except life+DRAMA+exhaustion=Bad PERSNICKETY!

Plus I ran out of Captain Crunch.

I guess that was the fuel that fed the fire.

Come to think of it, that stuff probably is flammable, and more than likely highly addictive if smoked.

Someone let me know how that turns out, K?

So anyway. Best friend graduated from "college". I say "college" because she is now a massage therapist and going to be making an assload of money. She completed a full 9 months or something like that. I am proud of her! Super proud! "You are the wind beneath my wiiiiiiiiiiings."

She will laugh. Hell most of you might laugh. That typed out way way more sarcastic than it sounded in my head. I really am proud of her. She even managed to run away from home at the ripe old age of 33 to start her life all over again. All I can say about that is her balls are WAY bigger than mine. (But mine are hairier. thpppppthhhh! [that was a raspberry] I'll stop now.)

So at best friend's graduation the Redneck Joke with a Vagina (scroll down to the bottom of that link if you forget who that is) was also walking the stage even though she hadn't passed enough courses to actually get her degree in criminal justice. My friends and I were all standing in a group Friday afternoon before the ceremony outside of the theater. RJWAV comes bowling through the group and heads straight to me and tells me "Don't tell FCB or FCBSis this but FCBSis is not divorcing her husband, just bought him a truck today from the XXXX-Ford dealership and also went out and bought the lazy unemployed alcoholic a home/land package. She then looked at all of MY friends and says, "Hey y'all! Ain'tchoo excited 'bout graduatin'? I know I shore am! Good to see ya! How ya been?" (insert massive group cringe here based on her accent and demeanor)

They all looked at me like, "Who the fuck is that?"

No one knew her. These were the people in her graduating class and NO ONE knew her.

But me. I'm so special. (GAG-HORK-HOCK-SPEW)

I looked at her and said that I didn't care what FCBSis did with her life as long as she was happy. I also then told her I hoped she was prepared to vacate the FCBMom's house on time. She looked at me strangely and then her mother walked up to us. This woman had an even worse accent and less teeth. I couldn't understand a word she said. RJWAV then told her mother to "Stick wit her and she'll watch out for ya. Oh and can ya take a picture of me and my momma and then print it out an give it ter me?"

I took one. And then I deleted it before the ceremony even started. I found a seat and was trying to figure out how to save seats for people coming later when RJWAV's Mom found me. I thought I had done a great job of shaking her like the piece of clinging toilet paper that you finally manage to get off of the bottom of your shoe. I guess I am not as good as I think I am. She tried to sit next to me and I told her it would be great if she could sit about 5 seats down so we could save the seats in between. She did. That eliminated the small talk.

I am not as stupid as people perceive me to be. I would go so far as to say cunning. Yeah. Cunning. (No cracks from the peanut gallery on that one.)

I will skim over most of the details because this post is getting long enough and I am not even half done with my weekend and my buzzer just went off for my lasagna. But on Saturday phone calls were made, RJWAV got caught in a bunch of backstabbing and underhanded lies, and FCBSis and I were tight like buds. Thus, the Redneck Joke wit a Vagina was evicted from the FCBMom's house. Voted off the island as it were. Since none of us liked her anyway, and she wasn't doing anything she was supposed to be doing like cooking and cleaning and being the home helper she was hired for. Instead she was eating and drinking and laying around on her ass and using up all the cell phone minutes and asking anyone who would listen when we thought we were going to get our money from FCBMom dying. Ding Dong, the Evil Bitch is gone.

So my Mother's Day was eventful. I went over to my Older Sister's house for lunch with her and my mother. It was pleasant. My mother seemed to have checked the crazy at the door, and the only argument I had with her was the fact that I started my period at 12 not 13 like she insisted. I stopped her cold in her tracks with a comment about it being MY body and I think I remember when "The CURSE" started. After the lunch, at the insistence of the Punk, we went over to my Older Sister's Mother in Law's house. She has a pool and a piano and is coolest person my daughter knows because of those things. On the way out of the driveway of my OS's house, she backed into my front license plate on my van when she put her van out of park and it rolled. No biggie. Just a plate. Can be replaced. Matter of fact OS and I are supposed to be taking a trip to EPCOT on Friday for a little "Mom's day out" and to take pictures for my sister to sell. She is really talented at the photography and the Flower and Garden Festival is going on at EPCOT right now. We can swing over to the Magic Kingdom and get a new plate.

One the way to OSMIL's house, we'll call her Grandmama, because, hey...that's what they all call her, we almost got in a very smashy-bad accident when a redneck in a truck decided to slam on his brakes in the middle of the highway because he thought he MIGHT have missed his dirt road. My sister slammed on her brakes. The Cadillac Escalade behind me slammed on their brakes. End the end, the Cadillac was less than a foot away from my sister's van and I was in the ditch on the side of the road. Cause I am all BOOYAH! with the evasive maneuvering with my van that way! No one was crushed, crunched or harmed and I got a lovely scenic trip into some weeds and shit. Yay.

Got to Grandmama's house and started with all the small talk and the chitchat and then the fact that Sister and I were going to EPCOT got brought up. You would have thought I had told these people that I was kidnapping her to go out whoring and crack smoking for the day. Comments were made about how I never kept a schedule in my life and more comments were made about women should be at home with their children. I kept trying to fight, OS kept kicking me under the table to let it go. The family was under the impression that we were going to DISNEY for A WHOLE DAY AND NIGHT WITH OUT OUR CHILDREN OR AT LEAST THE BABY! How dare we! Who are we to think we are deserving of a day at an adult oriented theme park with out our children or spouses? OY VEY!

I left shortly there after. My parting gift was a lottery ticket from Grandmama. I guess it was a peace offering. I won $3. Gas money. Woot.

So my life just happened to be chock full of drama and I had to share because I care. Drama just keeps happening to me like a busload of nuns careening through Vegas. Shit happens. Habits fly. I just can't help who I am an what I believe and I am set in my ways when it comes to DON'T FUCK WITH MY FAMILY.

RJWAV learned that lesson the hard way. I am still up in the air about continuing the debate with Grandmama. At least my Mom took her sanity vitamins for Mother's Day. That made it mostly a great day. Lots of stuff going on. I am writing it down old school in note book to one day post here.

Now I am off to eat my lasagna and have a nice big glass of cold milk to go with it. Then I am going to sleep. I slept almost all day today because I guess drama and stress tire me out. I need to get caught up on my sleep so I have the energy to drag my sister off to EPCOT so we can go get jiggy with a overstuffed, furry character or two and maybe smoke some Captain Crunch.

Memories...like the cobwebs of my mind...

As I was reaching for my box of Captain Crunch cereal this morning (anyone else notice the theme this week?) and I was flooded with a memory of when I was little and we would go over to my grandfather's house for overnight visits when my mom needed a break from us. He used to have a high cabinet stocked full of "old folks" cereal. I would have to get a chair and climb up to go through it to see what I could choke down for breakfast. I would wade through the boxes of Shredded Wheat and Grape Nuts and Cracklin' Oat Bran and with great disappointment relay the choices to my Older Sister. Then much to my surprise, tucked in the back would be a box of Rice Crispies. I would gleefully hand it down to Older Sister and we would get bowls and spoons out and then pour out the cereal before we dumped spoonfuls of sugar over the Rice Crispies. We knew Peepaw (that's what we called our grandpa) didn't eat that kind of cereal. That was why it was tucked in the back. Sitting there waiting on us to discover it like a treasure amongst the FIBER.

That was a great memory.

As I was brewing my Ghirardelli Chocolate Hazelnut coffee this morning, I ate my Captain Crunch and I thought, what a great blog post this would make. (The coffee is yum-nummy by the way. I used International Delights Chocolate Caramel creamer in it and it made it THAT MUCH BETTER!! Don't hate.) So I started to think of what other little tidbits of memory that I could share with you that wouldn't bore you to tears. Turns out, nothing much came to mind.

Not because my life is boring, but because after dying 8 times in my life, my memories are spotty and random. Some days, it's like a movie playing in my head and others, I can't remember what I did last week. I just chalk it up to the fact that having to do the whole "life flashing before your eyes" 8 times has worn the tape out a little and I have to rely on my friends and family to be the splice that holds me together.

Case in point, Feisty. She is my back-up disk as it were. She told me the other day that we went Trick or Treating in my neighborhood when I was in the 10th grade. I had no memory of it. I pestered her yesterday to tell me more about it. She gave me a vague account of it with highlights of what she recalled clearly. I have to admit that after finding her again a few years ago via Myspace, my life has been enriched. She carries with her so much of who I was and memories of me that are long gone from my Swiss cheese brain. We were best friends in 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th grades. I was there for the birth of her first son. I wish I could have been there for the others. But due to circumstances of spiteful dishonest people and the military, we didn't get to share our 20's together.

But thanks to the wonders of the Internet she is back in my life. She is expecting her last child (fingers crossed there on that one since this one wasn't expected just like the other three, but is a blessing all the same because it will be what helps keep my own biological clock from jumping out of my uterus and beating me to bits) and I am so grateful to be in her life for that. She and Older Sister have so many great memories of me to pass on to my daughter when she gets older. And hopefully, some record of this blog will be around so she can benefit from the memories I am making from writing it.

OK. Enough of the mushiness. I am getting my Captain Crunch and chocolate coffee all soggy with sentimentality.

So what is your favorite cereal? Or memory? Or friend story?

Inquiring minds want to know.