a few of my favorite photos from canterbury

An actual place where a person was the subject of martyrdom: Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, and this, inside the Canterbury Cathedral. King Henry the II of England didn't like his views, so he was assassinated here.

chills...

King Henry the IV's tomb and that of his second wife, Joan of Navarre

This one was taken outside the cathedral in one of many outdoor corridors. I loved the ceilings here with all the little details...beautiful...

Canterbury Cathedral: view from outside corridors into the courtyard where more graves existed. (We were not allowed to walk on the grass out here...)

More outdoor corridor shots... I couldn't get enough of them!

One of the most adorable sights I saw while inside the Canterbury Cathedral. There were kids on field trips everywhere and two choirs practicing as well. One of the little girls waved at me after I took this picture. Sweet!

The inside of the cathedral literally took my breath away at times.

My first sight upon entering the cathedral...*sigh*

Canterbury town square, outside the cathedral

Gorgeousness and awe: the Canterbury Cathedral

Just one last photo of The Man and me in the London Eye. I had no idea how handy this particular photo would become for me as I wade my way through some nastiness I have gotten for having an unpopular opinion

...click on it to see the message for those who are meanie-stalker/trolls!

Said It: Done!

Funny story...

I posted a comment on a couple of sisters' blogs I read; well, one of the sister's blogs. Anyway, the jist of the statement I made to her was that I was disappointed to see both blogs totally sell out to advertisers. Total blog posts devoted to products (whether it be "charitable" products or not, I don't read a blog to be solicited, rather to be inspired, as both sisters' blogs used to do for me, personally speaking) and pop-up ads galore, not to mention too much religious propaganda for my own taste. Well, I told this certain blogger I was done with both blogs as they are just too "diluted" for me and that I was disappointed as I enjoyed their writings in the past. I was really bummed, but stated my opinion. Oh, and one of the said bloggers lived through a nightmare just over a year ago, as a few of us have as well in our lifetimes...

Now, my blog has gotten quite a bit of traffic as a result. Not my intention by a long shot, but don't be surprised if some weird stuff happens or you see some venom show up here 'cause these chicks have quite a cult following. And, unfortunately in blog-land, that's what I get for having an opinion that is not popular.

Also, I have gotten a couple of nasty emails telling me I am a Very Awful Person, and from people who don't even know me, which is funny. Oh, look! Here's one now!

Why would you leave such a comment?
If you are talking about the pop-ups, then clarify that! Why would you go out of your way and to such great lengths to be nasty???

It is her aunt's company. It supports African Women. It is all natural.
Even if her content was paid advertising (which it wasn't) why would you begrudge a family that has gone through so much?

I think you should post a comment to clarify whatever it was that you meant. There's enough ugliness in the world. If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all.

Hope you have happy holidays. I try to remember everyone is fighting some sort of battle. Lord knows what you must be going through to make an ugly post like that and insult a family that has gone through so much. It is a miracle S. is even alive, much less struggling to live, exist, and attempt to type everyday. Diluted? SHAME on you. I'm disgusted. I hope you at least have the courage to clarify your statement or apologize. To think this is the time to spread goodwill and cheer.....lovely!

These emails: annoying? Yes. Amusing? Yes to that too. Narrow-minded? Check! Harassing? Mildly. And I won't go back to the one sister's blog to see how badly I have gotten beat up in the comments section; what's the point? I said what I thought through disappointment in these two ladies selling out, in my opinion, and I meant what I said: I'm done. 'Nuff said, right?

Here's the second email I got from the same person after a short but cordial response from moi kindly asking her to focus her energy elsewhere on something more positive. Read on!...

Hmmm....guess I am entitled to my opinion as well.

YOUR venom has wasted everyone's time and energy who bothered to comment. Amazingly, you instruct ME to use it for good, when you have wasted HUNDREDS of people's time and energy with your careless post.

I contacted you to ask you to clarify what you meant, so as to stop the further discussion and prevent anyone else from misunderstanding. I was trying to help end the discussion.

She was gracious to respond to you so eloquently. Too bad you could not reciprocate.

I'm not using their plight as an excuse, but I am positive their medical bills are in the millions over what insurance would cover. The editorial was just to help her aunt, The pop ups probably pay the bills. Hopefully neither of us will find ourselves in that position, or in the position to be judged by what we include on our personal blog...peace.

So, if you have found yourself here looking for an awful person, yup...that would be me. I'm the person who doesn't care for the sisters' blogs any longer and the one who didn't comment anonymously because I am not afraid to have an unpopular opinion and am not the troll type. You can disagree with me all you want, but I promise, I won't harass you or call you a horrible, miserable person if you have an opposing view to mine.

Now, I'm going to go cure world hunger and inoculate the masses against the H1N1 virus all the while agreeing with EVERYone about EVERYthing so as not to create a stir...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Edited to add:

If you want to discuss the virtues of said bloggers, dude...this isn't the place to do it. Also, if you want to force me to go back to the site I choose to no longer read by cutting and pasting comments and leaving them here, that's not going to work either. Nasty or underhanded anonymous comments don't get published. Have the cahunas, at least, to leave your name and the reasoning behind the comment you leave. I won't be convinced that these bloggers are the holy grail of blogs no matter the argument you present. I don't like it anymore. Period. I'm done and it's been a long time coming and a culmination of events that I chose to delete them from my reader. It's sad, really. If you want to really read something inspiring, rich, full, tasteful and astonishingly beautiful, then please go here and you'll see what I'm talking about. Tragedy doesn't have to be folded into marketing for profit and redirections to less advertised sites. This place has it down so eloquently and pure...and that is just what inspires me and makes me know true beauty...

Now, I'm going to get on with my blogging life as I have much to share with my friends regarding my recent trip and I have missed them so. If you want to be a friend, fine. If not, please click away now.

Back Where We Belong

The Man and me enjoying the sights of London from inside the London Eye. The gesture is to the French.

We're back.

We arrived home Monday evening, ten days gone, and I've never felt so happy to see a runway in Minneapolis/St. Paul. I couldn't shake the urge to lick the concrete...I'll explain in a minute...

London was superb. Canterbury was quaint. Belgium? Un-be-lievable. Paris was, um, how do I say this nicely? Tres crasseux? Trou de merde--I think is more apropos. The Louvre was spectacular. The lights of the Tour d' Eiffel were magnificent at night, but the streets? Pure filth. We're talking dog-shit, homeless pissing, trash pile, sewer gas-smelly, dirty. I have never been so happy to see clean streets as I was when we landed upon the tarmac in MSP. lick, lick

I have much to tell and much to show but am still reeling right now from lack of adjustment sleep-wise. Our visitors just left us this morning and I finally feel my home and kids and life are my own again. And it feels good.

While this was indeed a wonderful trip to experience with my husband, I can't ignore the lessons learned when faced with life's everyday trials and confusion both at home and abroad. I've learned a lot about the people I was surrounded by and the ones far away as well. It was so much more than a trip; it was a journey.

To keep it short, I learned that not a person in this world will ever love my kids the way I do. Not by even a fraction. Being so busy by the whirlwind travelling was good as it kept my mind from fixating on what I was missing while away. Being exhausted and on the run was a complete blessing. I got on the plane in Amsterdam and before take-off, when it was finally an appropriate time to call home to tell my babies that Mommy was coming home, I let it all out. An overwhelming wave of love, guilt and longing for my children came pouring out of me and I cried like a lost little girl. It surprised me. It was incredible relief as the wheels left the runway.

Lying in bed with my girl that night last Monday was like coming back from the dead. I realized that I'm never so completely and wholly alive and all is never so right with the world as it is when I'm at home with my loves and in the arms of a little red-haired girl named Natalie. She shuddered and sobbed as did I, in the dark--she in her pj's from last Christmas and me in my jet-lagged, Paris-stenching clothes. We held each other so tightly and I felt her tears mix with mine on my face. I never want to leave her again. Not for so far and for so long.

After all, what does the City of Lights have over the feeling of a skinny, 9 year-old arm flung 'round your neck at 10 p.m. and the whispers of other-worldly love in the dark?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

** As I write, I am watching my sweet girl hang Christmas lights out side with her Daddy. It's one of the most wonderful sights I've seen in my life. I am also thinking about my sick boy upstairs, banished to laziness today in hopes the rest does his sore throat some good. And all is right with the world...

European Vacation

A lovely late summer photo I took outside my home that has nothing to do with this post but I'm very proud of anyways.

I'm getting ready to leave for Europe. No blogging will be taking place, most likely, for a couple of weeks.

In even better news...I'm back on the bottle thanks to my Donnausonne Hungarian red wine. Good god, I love that stuff. I'm ready for drinking pints in the UK pubs, funky beer in Belgium, and wine, OH! the wine, in Paris!!! Ahhhhhh...life will be very good, very soon...

If you want to, friend me on facebook (of which I will be updating my status regularly during the trip) and I'll keep you posted as to whether or not I've fallen into the Thames in a drunken stupor and possibly posting photos of The Man and I wearing our lovely embroidered berets and fanny packs to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (My facebook name is "Kathy Robbins Riddle")

Au revoir!

Happy Birthday to My Beautiful Girl

My baby girl's birthday was yesterday and I was so busy flitting about getting everything ready for her that I didn't even post her yearly birthday post! Shameful, I know.

When it comes to my daughter, sometimes I am speechless. That's nothing short of a miracle for me as I am usually speech-full, but she's just one of those completely amazing things that has happened in my life that I don't quite understand. I'm almost afraid to be too thankful or to express my awe of her in fear that karma might just come up and smack me for being so lucky, but I have to announce to the world sometimes just how very, very much I love and adore her.

My first was a boy. A wonderful, robust, loving, challenging, astonishing little guy; I never envisioned loving something as equally. My second was something I never even knew existed: a female form of which I can never get enough. I can breathe her in and wrap my being around her and only hope someday to be just like her.

She's my hero. My hope. My joy. My Oprah (as in, "What would Oprah/Natalie do?"). My strength and weakness. She's everything good in the world and every wish I've ever made. She's the reason I question God and Heaven because being right here on Earth living life alongside her is the damn nearest thing to perfection/Nirvana a person could ever want for. I'll be pissed the day I die and end up at the pearly gates with angels singing while floating on a cloud of cupcake swirly perfection because I will have had to leave her. I will. That is, if indeed I do end up in a place that has pearly gates! HA!

So, another year has passed...all nine of them have been the most challenging and supremely sublime. I can't wait for the next and the next and the next and etc. My girl is nine. Nine! I don't ever remember nine ever being so perfectly lovely and bright.

But it is. And, to think, the rest will be even brighter...

Love Language

Incredibly

Dill-weed

Your mom

Outside?

Crazy

Cereal

Bubby

Sissy

Can I?

Beautiful

Pretty

Butt-monkey

Boo-Boo

ask

homework

practice

supper

laundry

doggies

purple puffer

Mommy

go

go

go

Be careful

I love you

All of these are the most over-used words/phrases in my house. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. They define us, comfort us, help us to communicate our thoughts, feelings, information and affection for each other. They are what makes us a family; albeit a somewhat goofy family.

I'd love to hear what words/phrases your family uses that bond you together, no matter how goofy they are. Please share.

Purging

It still hits me every day like a ton of bricks. A little voice inside of me says,

"you don't belong here. hey, dorothy...you're not in indiana anymore."

I open my eyes and reality sets in as I look around a room that still isn't familiar to me.

"you're here. you can't go back. move forward. get a life. you have
everything to be happy about, to live for."

I try. I really, really do, but nothing changes. Maybe my heart's just not open enough. But, then again, maybe it is. I'm on the verge of tears always, just below the surface. It stings. Then it goes away. There's not enough lidocaine to numb this fucking hole in my chest, blown out by life and circumstances.

"what the hell did you leave behind anyway? an old house. family shit
that always drove you crazy? you should be glad you left that all
behind."

Well. I'm not. I'm not glad. I left behind so much more than a house, a dysfunctional family, crap. I left four people who sent early birthday cards so sincere and sweet it's just unreal. There are no people like that here. Well, wait. Maybe one.

"I let the world see who I am, but it just doesn't fit. It doesn't work. Nothing works here. NOTHING."

I'm just sad and waiting to go home. I miss the family who doesn't share my genes; just the ones who understood me, loved me without judging no matter how stupid I got. The ones who knew my history, my babies, and loved them too. The ones who knew me and gave their kindness so freely and stood with me, mourned with me, beside me, behind me. God, I miss them... that.

"i'm still counting..."

Big Pimpin'

Hey, Peeps...

If you wanna be my best friend, or not--please, please, pretty, pretty please go check this out. I just started writing on examiner.com and need some hits/subscriptions/and just a little of your time.

Bitch needs to make some money... Oh, and if I can do you any favors, please ask in the comments section. I pretty much do only menial tasks and things that might be considered shady by a portion of the population, so ask away!

I Guess Sometimes It Doesn't Get More Honest

Thanks to Erin at The Mother Load for the compliment (she gave me this lovely little recognition). It took me a few days, but I'm back and ready to share. I've decided to delete just a few things here, but with the support of my sometimes pain-in-the-ass husband and a few of you loyal and awesome readers out there, I'm gonna keep on saying what I think and feel. This IS my space to do it, so thanks for reminding me of that.

SOOOO....anyway, I think I'm supposed to share ten things about myself. I'm sorry in advance if this bores you to tears, but I'll try to make it as entertaining as possible. And it will definitely be some "Honest Crap".

1. Oprah looked down my pants once. She was funny. I don't think many people can say that, but I can! And I let her because she was, well, OPRAH!
2. I've been to the Oprah show THREE times, count 'em...one, two, THREE! All right, I'll stop bragging and stuff, but not before I say that two out of the three times I had a close-up moment on camera. Okay, I'm done.
3. I was also on The View once back in the Star and Lisa Ling days. I wasn't actually there, just got on the show by fluke at Castleton Mall in Indiana. I had a speaking part and was totally coached by the director on how to say it. I felt like an idiot. I never saw it on air, but some of my family did.
4. I went on a Booze Cruise on my honeymoon in Nassau, Bahamas and got pretty drunk with The Man. I also flirted with other dudes on the Booze Cruise. I don't think The Man cared because we were drunk. And married.
5. If I could, I'd have 10 miniature pinschers. I love them. But they'd all have to be female. I can't stand male dogs.
6. I can't vacuum my house in sock feet. I must be barefoot or have shoes on. Don't ask me why. If I am in socks only, I'll usually remove them before starting even if it's 50 degrees below zero.
7. I met a real Mountain Man once. He lived on the side of a mountain in Hyden, Kentucky--in the heart of Hazard County. I went to his "house" and he offered me moonshine, and yes, it was in a Ball jar. I turned it down and drank beer instead.
8. I toured the Top Gun school in San Diego in college--the place where they filmed the movie with Tom Cruise. It was pretty cool. One of the Top Gun pilots asked me out. I said "no" because I had a boyfriend (or two) at the time. If I could go back in time and bitch-slap the hell out of myself, I would.
9. I used to play the bagpipes in high school. I could still do it if I had enough lung capacity to blow; it takes an enormous amount of wind to play those fuckers. And those tunes! Once you learn them, you never forget them. Sometimes I still move my fingers to the music in my head.
10. I've been in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico in a four person paddle boat with four people and a cooler full of beer. We saw a shark and caught a lobster and found a sandbar and I got stung by some sort of sea anemone. It's amazing that I survived my college years.

So...there ya go! If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged because, right now, I'm too lazy to do any links as it is officially 2:45 a.m., my ass is hurting from sitting here and I am cold and wanna go to bed. If you would, let us know in the comments section that you are a blogger of "Honest Scrap" and I'll come see your "10 things" post. I love finding out little-known shit about people. But, I bet Oprah never looked down your pants...

To Delete, Or Not To Delete? That Is The Question...

Oops.

I think I may have over spoke and over posted and over photographed.

This blog has morphed over the past couple of years. It started out being a way to keep in touch with people we left behind by showing our new lives in a new place. It is now more of a diary of sorts. A way I have found to express myself in ways I don't generally do. There is PG-13 content, because I think it's funny and it's just a part of my inner repertoire. And I think I have more readers who know me in real life than what I thought I did. Oops.

In looking at the so-called "new" blog, what is appropriate and what is not? Would you move on to a new forum or simply hit "delete"?

I know I have offended in the past, but never have apologized for my thoughts and feelings. But the content? I've never been asked to apologize for the content which a young reader or pervert might come across. I'm thinking maybe I should? I dunno...

Is it appropriate to post pictures of my children? Their friends? What they are involved in? I'm not sure. Is it appropriate to post these in the context of my writing? I'm perplexed...

What do you think? Advice is welcome.

Putting the "ASS" in "ASSUME"

Do not assume because I don't have a "real job" that I am an idiot. The village idiot, specifically. Don't presume that I have no propriety or manners or brain because I am just sitting on my ass at home all day long being a sloth and not wanting to work, hanging out with four-legged creatures who lick their nether regions.

Don't assume that I have no education, no goals, no past accolades or accomplishments. Yes, even a stay-at-home mom can leave some of that stuff behind when she wants to; has to. To many a shocker: I can string sentences together in a coherent fashion and balance a budget, I can fucking fold laundry like no body's business, but I can also pump acrid chemicals into your superior vena cava and think nothing of it all the while making sure YOU DON'T DIE ON MY ASS.

I was once RN, BSN, ACLS with the SHIT. Let me translate: that would be Registered Nurse, Bachelor of Science, Advanced Cardiac Life Support with the Superior History In Training. Okay, so I made the last one up. But, do you know how long it's been since I've so haughtily put those initials after my last name? 9 1/2 years, to be exact. And I don't miss it at all. It never defined who I was and it will never define me now. I rarely speak of it today.

Today, I stay home because I live in a place where I have no support. Zero. Nil. Nada. If my son comes down with pneumonia for the 4th time in 9 months, I must be here for him. I have no Gramma or Nana or Auntie This Or That to come care for my children at a moment's notice. His Nana would be here in, oh, say 12 hours give or take if I needed a babysitter and caretaker for him. And guess what? I also want to be here when he's sick or for when she gets off the bus exhausted and needing to talk about best friends and how they shouldn't make you feel so badly when you just want to play with another friend at recess too.

Really. I know this may shock some people, but I am capable of making Important Decisions and Pushing Papers. I have led meetings and people and units and stuff. I've also been told that I am much smarter than I give myself credit for and to quit dumbing it down so much (that was my clinical professor in college). But I kind of like dumbing it down: it's fun. And funny. And it puts on no aires. It never says, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm smarter than you and I want everyone to know it!" Dumbing it down is way underrated. But look where it's gotten me now--in a place where there are people out there who think I'm a brainless zombie stay-at-home mom waste-oid slacker. Well, there's nothing that pisses me off more than being taken for stupid.

So, here I am, professing to the world that I DO indeed have a brain, and world? Would you please stop allowing all these people to make assumptions based on my "job" or perceived low ranking on the intellect totem pole? I'm no Einstein, and don't claim to be because yes, I only scored something like 1100 on my SATs, but maybe I deserve some respect as a human being who is indeed educated and not just an inbred Hoosier who doesn't deserve to state some facts once in a while to an audience who either knows or doesn't. I don't need your "I am an educated working mom" advice on who I'm speaking to and the manner with which I should address these not-like-you educated peoples. I try to spark enough synapses to stay on top of things too, even though I'm "just a stay-at-home mom." Thank you.

Jeezus. If I ever needed some brandy in my coffee, it would be now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edited to add: This is what you would call a "knee-jerk" post in response to a specific stressor. And yes, I feel better and am getting a good laugh at myself right now.

All or Nothing

These are my mums. I kinda like them. They make me happy.

I keep starting posts these days only to stop and delete them.

Re-hashing painful or huge mountains of garbage just seems like a waste of time and takes too much energy.

I try to come up with something funny or poignant or useful--but I have nothin' right now.

Battles are being fought. Again. And again. And it feels like it's a waste of time. It's frustrating.

When is it time to give up, take "no" for an answer? And when is it time to keep fighting the good fight even though you're making no headway? No one is listening. Nothing is changing.

And it's not just one battle. It's many and it's tiring, wearing me thin. I'm not doing the good that I can be because I'm just.tired.

Maybe it's the lack of wine flowing through my veins as of late. I sipped the other night while cooking, but since the freaking barf-o-rama episode, wine just lost is appeal. Still. How sad.

Bright spots remain. I cuddled with Natalie today before school. I smelled her hair, breathed her scent deeply into my soul and felt grateful. I sat with my boy before he left for school, arm around his broad shoulders, and told him I loved him as I looked into his impossibly brown eyes. We stood, kissed good-bye, and his lips touched just above mine as he kissed me under my nose. It was cute. God, I love him. Her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another bright spot: I'm going to Europe soon!! Yes!! This will be the first time ever for me and I couldn't be more excited and anxious at the thought of leaving those two bright spots behind. I've never been away from them for more than, oh, six days. We'll be gone, very, very gone, for 13 days. It's a little daunting, but I'm sure it will be good. Travelling to London, Canterbury, Brussels and hopefully a stop in Paris. There will be many photos to come, guaranteed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just typing this makes me see that perspective is so subjective.

I'm getting it.

This One's For My Boy

Today is my boy's birthday.

He is 12 years old today. I can't believe I just typed those numbers: 12. It just can't be.

Every year, on their birthdays, I write to/for them. Today I will do the same. It just feels right, whether they ever read this or not, to write for them. Today, for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nolan-boy. My Bubby-boo-boo. My Bubba-wubba,

I love you. I love YOU. I LOVE you. I LOVE YOU!! I can never type these posts on your birthday without tears and pride and completely overwhelming, humbling, incredible emotion in my chest that swells with each word I type.

Today you're 12. You're growing up. But you'll always be My Boy, won't you? We will always have a special bond--do you know why? You probably do, but I'm going to tell you anyway. You and me? We're two peas in a pod. We think alike. We talk alike. We act alike. We look alike (I know you didn't want to hear that). We love alike. We laugh at the same goofy stuff (like the "Crap Store Buffet"!). But being alike isn't always easy either.

Sometimes we disagree. Sometimes you make me angry and vice versa, huh? Sometimes I see too much of me in you and I push you, maybe a little too hard, to do better; be better; work harder; to achieve more. I'm sorry if I push too hard. I just want what's best for you. Always. Always.

You're insanely bright, incredibly handsome; irresistible even. You are the most loving, caring, sweet-hearted boy I've ever known. Your love runs deep, strong and true. I think that's what I love most about you. No, I know it is.

This year has been difficult for you. I hate your asthma with a passion that I've never hated anything before in my life. Nolan, I stay awake at night, think of you every minute when you're sick and I beg the universe to give me your asthma; give me your sickness. I truly, utterly hate it when you're sick. It makes me furious. But Baby, I'll take care of you. I will. I will be with you, feed you, give you your medicine, find the best doctors in the land for you. I'll spoil you too, you know--with all the TV, video games and movies you want when you're sick. And I'll make all the ramen noodles you want, too. We'll get through it together. I promise.

This past year wasn't all bad though, that's for sure. This year you surpassed your Mommy in height, didn't you (although, that wasn't very hard, was it?)? It's so strange when I catch a reflection of us together and I see this young man standing next to me who I don't immediately recognize. It's weird. I can't believe it's us! You're so amazingly handsome, tall, strong. I feel so safe and taken care of when you carry and lift things for me now. And so loved. Thank you for that, sweet boy. You are my life's destiny, my reason to be alive, the very essence of my soul--you and my love for you.

I'm looking forward to this upcoming year with you. I love seeing you take off, so self-assured, brave, not afraid of anything, ready to conquer whatever crosses your path. And you'll do it, for sure. I can't wait to see where we are one year from now when you turn 13. Just quit bugging the shit out of me to watch PG-13 movies, will ya? I'll kick your ask.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

~Mommy

I Love Unicorns: A Post In Blog Highjacking

I just found this, Kristy. You rat-ass little sister, you. You thought you published this back in July, didn't you? Well, here you go. I'm publishing it now, just for you. I'll even add a little unicorn picture just to make it more special. Notice the rainbow in the background? Well, that's the closest I could get to having a rainbow shoot out of the unicorn's ass and yeah, that's Obama riding the unicorn. I'm going to kick your ask next time I see you then I'll highjack YOUR blog and maybe even wake up Addison from a nap or something fun like that!

The following is a what my rat-ass sister tried to post on my blog back on July 4th while I was visiting her in Indiana. Apparently, I left the computer on and my dashboard up, and she high jacked me but forgot to hit "publish post".

Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi Everyone! Happy 4th of July! I have had a fabulous day in Indiana! I was
in my sisters backyard when I spotted my very favorite mythical creature-YES
A UNICORN!!!!!!!!! It smiled at me then rainbows shot out its ass. It was
AWESOME!

~Kristy Speelman (a.k.a. my rat-ass sister, posing as me, Kathy, a.k.a. the brilliant and prettier sister and author of this blog.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. If you would, dear readers, please go visit my sister here. Leave a comment on her
latest post and tell her that her sister says she's a rat-ass. And maybe tell
her too that unicorns don't actually shoot rainbows out of their ASSES, but
specifically, the spectrum originates from the rectum. Thanks!!

You Might Not Want To Read This Post If You Have A Weak Stomach Or Get Offended By Overconsumption Of 30-Something Mothers

I got drunk Friday night.

Shit-faced, word-slurring, fuck-me-I'm-so-damn-hot-in-my-spankx, barf-o-rama, black-out drunk.

How old am I? Like, pushing 40? HARD?! I have no business getting drunk on Friday night. Not like that.

You know what The Man said to me the next day after having taken care of me while I spontaneously barfed and rapid-fire shit myself senseless (as I awoke with a possible brain aneurysm and found shit in my drawers)? He said, "What? Do you think you're 23 or something?"

Fuck-you-very-much, Man. Just remind my ass that I can't take these sort of young whipper-snapper antics any longer. But aren't I sexy in my shit-laced panties and eyeliner down to my nostrils? Not to mention how cute I make red chunks of vomit look stuck between my two front teeth...ahhhh...nothing says "I married a real gem" like those charateristics do, huh, Honey?

Have you ever barfed so hard that it came out your nose? I'm not sure, but I think I did. Sorry if that grosses you out, but that was a new one for me.

Here's what my dumb-ass drank that night: (1) Raspberry/champagne mixture thingy, (1) cheap-o glass of white zinfandel, (2) appletinis and (2) **gulp** shots of cheap tequila. Oh. god.

The entire Saturday was spent begging the Powers That Be to not let me barf again. And eating Excedrin/Tylenol/Diprovan/Fentanyl and sipping ice water and keeping a nice, cold, wet washcloth on the throbbing orb that was my head.

I can't do this anymore. I've sworn off tequila at least twice in my lifetime. What is it that makes me come back to you, you mistress, you Tequila? Is it your lovely fragrance of unwashed butt or the acrid burn you give me going down AND coming back up? I can't fathom what made doing shots of tequila sound like a good idea at the time. But for some reason it did. And for some reason, I did it.

Other things I've sworn off of and it actually stuck:

• Southern Comfort (lovingly referred to as "Robo" by The Man and me)
• Wild Turkey
• Any beer ending with the word "Ice"
• Micro or home brewed beer
• Weight Watcher's anything
• Giving blow jobs

Now, you'd think tequila would be easy to keep on that list...right? But for some reason, it keeps sneaking back into my drinking repertoire. I don't know why. It never ends up pretty.

I'm going to go now. I'm feeling queasy.

Yeah, you guessed it...there will be NO drink of the day this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have any good drinking stories you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them so I don't feel like such an ass.