Domestic Bitch Friday... Episode Two

Welcome back lamb whores and goat sluts to the second episode of Domestic Bitch Friday which I have ripped off of Mel over at Tweeded because she loves me and thinks I'm the shit therefore is letting me do this.

The drill is that I hook you up with a freebie, a new recipe and clue you into a project I've done this week. Ugh. All this responsibility.

But here we go, bitches. Go HERE and get two energy efficient light bulbs. And go HERE to get the Purex 3 in 1 laundry sheets. And tell me what you think. I ordered them and used one and am undecided. I have two left to try so we'll see.

The recipe we're doing is super easy, makes a ton, and tastes awesome.

Lasagna Rolls For Bitches

Brown 1 lb of hamburger (seasoned with salt, pepper, and garlic powder) until done. It's optional, but if you like onion and actual garlic in your lasagna- add it in there too. Add a jar of spaghetti sauce, a 15 oz can of tomato sauce and a small can of tomato paste. Mix well, simmer until we're ready.

In a separate bowl, combine one bag of shredded mozzarella cheese with one small tub of cottage cheese and one beaten egg to make a super bowl of cheesy awesomeness.

THEN cook a box of lasagna noodles so they are half way done. I can get 9 rolls (one noodle) in an 8x8 pan. This recipe will make two 8x8 pans or one really big pan. I make the two smaller pans, and then freeze the other so I don't have to cook on a different night.

Here's my cooking audience. I like to pretend I'm on the Food Network.

So once you have all the steps above done it's time to assemble. Scoop some of your meat/sauce mixture into the bottom of your pans.

Lay out noodles and spread some of the cheese mixture on. Like this:

Then roll them up, lay them seam side down into the sauce.

Then cover with extra sauce and shredded cheese. Bake at 350 until bubbly.

Eat more than the recommended portion because it's the weekend your whore/slut leader says so.

So my project was a big one, but I'll touch more on it next week (with pictures). Jackson is 2 now (insert sad face here) and after getting his thighs stuck in the crib AGAIN I made the executive decision to move him to a big boy bed. Which is a twin size bed for all of you non-parents out there. We don't go the route of a toddler bed because frankly- I think children need to learn how to not roll the fuck out of bed at a young age.

Maybe it makes me a harsh parent but yeah. I can spend that $50 elsewhere. Like on new underwear. Anyways.

So I made Matt go out and get the mattress and box spring, I had purchased his new comforter and sheets and he was THRILLED about them. In the afternoon we did a major furniture move upstairs. Olivia's bed frame is now in Jackson's room because it's smaller and his room is tiny. Olivia now has the other bed frame. Jackson's bed is now set up, furniture moved around, toys organized, etc. Put new sheets/blankets on Olivia's bed and washed all of the older ones. Then I sorted all of the linens for their beds to get rid of the crib stuff, crib disassembled and put in the garage.

Folks, I'm not going to lie. I cried and I cried hard. But that's part of a post for next week.

How's that for leaving you hanging??

I'm always right, not always perfect, have a compulsion and now...an addiction!

Yes lamb whores and goat sluts- it needs to be know that I? Have an addiction.

This particular addiction has had me in it's grips for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories of this are around age 5 and my habits even then are frightening to think about it. I tell myself I can quit if I want to but I can't. Maybe it was my childhood. Maybe I was meant to be diabetic. Maybe it was the moonlight. I don't know. But what I know is that my addiction is serious, its expensive and its not healthy.

Folks. I'm addicted to Pepsi.

I know- you're probably expecting crack, heroin, aerosol cans, meth, glue, something other than Pepsi. But folks? That blue and red can has NEVER let me down.

When I was little, I lived in Florida. We lived in low income housing that were like side by side duplexes. My mom worked hard and she worked a lot of hours. My mom was cool and hip whereas our neighbors/friends were the epitome of barefoot southern kids with kool-aid moustaches. I mean- I rocked that too. But we just did it cooler. See? Here's me and brother, circa 1985 sometime. Summer. I'm rocking my pink flip flops and cleverly posing so you can't see my boobs. At age 3 I could work a camera and angles. Look at my sass. I was awesome even then.

While we didn't always have new toys, books, clothes, or legal cable, we always had soda. Always. My uncles, who were all super young and cool, would come over and hang out with us. Basically they took turns watching us when our mom worked. I remember she'd have cans of soda and sometimes the glass bottles in the fridge. There was a cup or bowl on top of the fridge and if you took a soda you had to chip in for the next case. Later on I learned that this come was my key to the snow cone from the ice cream truck but that was for later years.

I don't know when I had my first hit exactly, but I reckon it was around age 5 when my Uncle Steven would watch us on Saturdays. Saturdays were great because we'd get a Happy Meal and basically got to free for all because racing was on and you didn't fuck with racing. Which was cool. Since it's apparently easier to order a soda with a Happy Meal instead of the healthier choice of milk that I wouldn't drink anyways, that's what we got. It was fabulous. Except it was Coke.

When I figured out how to open a can of Pepsi on my own not only did I feel bad ass for not slicing my finger off like my mom said I would, but I discovered it was a million times better than Coke. But obviously my mom wasn't going to willingly let me have Pepsi. Except after my first taste? Addicted.

I would wake up from having one of those dreams where you think it's real and you reach out for something only to fall directly onto the floor thinking I was reaching for a Pepsi. So I would sneak out of bed, down the hall, into the kitchen, steal a Pepsi, walk back to my room and as quietly as I could crack that can open. I would then chug as much as I could before feeling like I was going to throw up and store the half full can under my bed. Every night. For a long time.

Eventually we got ants. My mother assumed it was my brother bringing in "pets" and whatnot until she went to clean the room we shared. And discovered my secret.

In the form of 50+ half full cans of sugar. With ants.

Oops.

Needless to say my mom finally figured out who the asshole was that wasn't chipping in for the soda AND where the ants were. Later on I would call this "multi tasking" but at the time my mom just called it "super pissed off". It was then she started counting the cans and I went through with drawls.

Fast forward to adulthood. I cannot function without a can a day. I'm down to a can a day and fuck all yall who think I should quit. Quitting is for pussies. When I was pregnant I was up to like 3 cans a day. Whatevs. Both of my kids are normal. And I don't drink coffee, energy drinks, etc. So I'm fine. I also don't drink milk or take in calcium so the fact that my bones haven't disintegrated is a miracle. I feel I'll be like Bob on that movie Monsters vs. Aliens. You know- the cute blue monster that's just a blob?? Yeah. That'll be me.

If I haven't had my Pepsi I cannot think about anything else other than the taste. The fizz on my tongue, the horrible I-feel-like-puking feeling if I hadn't eaten yet. But I don't like my Pepsi from a bottle. I like it in a glass, a can, or my preferred method is by fountain. Oh my. If I had a fountain machine in my house? I'd have to work from home. I think the only thing that kept me working at Dairy Queen and Culvers for so long was the fountain Pepsi. Asshole customers? Whatevs. I've got my Pepsi. Explosive shit in the bathroom to clean? Whatevs. I'm sipping my Pepsi. What? Your burger is fucked up? Fuck you. I'm drinking my Pepsi.

I have a lot of addictions but Pepsi is the one that I think is my longest running one. I will die with a Pepsi in my hand. By brain tumor.

OH- and the person who commented about how someone had a stroke by a sneeze?? Thanks. Because now I'm afraid to move my head.

Guess what? I have a compulsive habit. SHOCKER.

I have to first apologize to the 31 people who emailed me, the one person who posted something on my wall, and the 2 people that sent me a FaceBook message over the course of last night and today asking me where the fuck I was last night. Maybe they could care less where I was per say, but they were DEVASTATED that I neglected to post something last night. Especially after I left yall hanging with brain tumor talk. But I have a good reason!!

It started with a migraine (appropriately enough) and ended with....the flu! Yay! I'm on day two and feel worse yet this evening but here I am. Not letting a puking-every-15-minute-flu bug let my precious lamb whores and goat sluts down another night! Hang on...

OK! I just puked up Sprite. Excuse the smell.

Anyways. I always think it's really freaky when a blog I follow talks about something I had already planned on talking about, because then I think maybe my brain tumor wannabe in progress blob that is currently posing as a brain is sending out waves. Which is weird because don't you need like, an antennae? Or a microwave? I don't know. You need something. And I'm not all about to get science-y on you but just know that Julie from Mom Taxi Julie posted about this today. Because I think she gets me. Which also freaks me out that there could be more of me out there. I mean, let's all take a minute to reflect on what that means.

(While I puke again)

More Sprite. (And I only drank like three sips- so far you'd think I had a gallon. Dang.)

I think I've talked briefly about my serious compulsion with shaving my legs before. In fact I know I did but I'm not in the capacity to look for any more links. Deal with it. But I remember being really little and being completely in awe of my mom and her smooth legs. I remember feeling them and thinking they were so soft and so smooth while my little 5 year old twigs masquerading as legs were hairy. Not like ape hairy but normal for a 5 year old with enough stubble for me to hate it.

God dammit- I wanted to wear short shorts like the girls prancing on the beach in the TV commercials for Nair. (Sing the song while I puke again).

Of course, my mom being a responsible parent would not let me shave my legs at age 5. But I remember the day I was 10 and was fed up with this hairy leg shit. I mean I was done. I was noticing boys on the playground and I don't care how old you are- you need to secure your place as a cute girl right from the get go otherwise you are going to be "that girl" that everyone calls the Hairy Ape. And that? Was not going to be me.

So I decided to shave my legs one night. It seemed pretty self explanatory. I stole my mom's razor out of her makeup bag, and read the instructions on the shaving cream. I was getting an A in English and Reading Comprehension so I felt pretty confident I could read instructions. So I got going. I'm lathering up and already loving the experience. I was doing great. Until I got to my knee. I obviously butchered my knee not realizing that you have to go slower. I shaved my thighs. I'm loving this and wondering why I didn't just take this bull by the horns years before.

Then I decided I had to do my ankles. I mean- hairy ankles is almost worse than having an entire hairy leg. So I got one ankle done and realized that having super bony chicken legs is putting me at a disadvantage. I nicked my left ankle pretty bad which was unfortunate because I didn't take into consideration that running water pushing shaving cream soap into an open wound hurts.

But like a soldier, I marched on. I got to my right ankle. The inside, no problems. The outside? Well I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I panicked. Maybe I slipped. Maybe I had a super fast, unpredictable seizure. Maybe I just suck. But I do know I made a 5 inch GASH into the outside of my ankle. Blood is everywhere. I knew in that exact moment that I am going to be in so much trouble it's ridiculous. I get out of the shower and am applying my towel onto the wound hoping it wasn't deep and I could just make it stop. After 15 minutes, my towel is so covered in blood I briefly decide I'm going to die as a result of shaving my legs.

At ten years old.

After 45 minutes mom is banging on the door. She's pretty pissed and telling me that hogging the one bathroom in the house is not cool and that someone had to shit. So I covered my ankle in a ton of band aids, put on my pajamas, ran to my room. I wrapped the towel around my ankle for the entire night and when I woke up- it stopped bleeding but look horrible. I pretty much was gagging at my own wound.

Because I? Am a pussy like that.

Fast forward like three days and my mom asks me what happened to the towel. I act dumb because I'm not about to admit I fucked up my ankle and ruined a towel in the process. Being in a family that didn't have much money we had limited towels, so one going missing is a big fucking deal. Little did I know my mom already knew what happened.

Because in my haste of stopping the bleeding, I left the shaving supplies out and the trail of blood in the tub, over the tub, on the rug, on the toilet and across the floor. So smart I am. Clearly, I would be a failure at being a serial killer.

I had to show her my ankle and she totally gasped and kind of gagged. She said I didn't need stitches- which hello, not like she'd take me for those anyways with our not super health insurance- but told me I was a fucking idiot. Everybody knows you go slow around the ankles.

Really? Because I am the family fuckup who can't comprehend simple shaving instructions. My bad.

But now as a grown up I have since learned from this experience and shave my legs every day. I fall asleep rubbing my feet and legs together because they are so smooth. Not like you'll ever know about that, so just take my word. No stubble on these babies. Feeling stubble on my legs makes me feel dirty. It's seriously something to do with OCD I'm sure.

OK- so that's a little more of my crazy. Trust me- I've got more where that came from. I am going to go to bed now, hopefully not puke and die in my sleep, and be back tomorrow. Hopefully. But thank you for all of your concerns! And I hope you sleep better tonight, Krysten. Your Lamb Whore Leader is alive. But puking. :) Sparkle and glitter, bitches.

Brain Tumor

Anybody who knows me well in real life knows that I am pretty sure I am going to die of one of three things:

1. Breast Cancer
2. Aneurysm
3. Brain Tumor

Breast cancer is rampant through my family as is kidney issues (which are SUPER fun when you get kidney stones when you are 6 months pregnant and those fuckers REFUSE to come out and then disappear. It's weird and they are probably hiding right now somewhere just waiting for me to think oh-I-beat-you-kidney-stones and they will all be like BAM! "We're back bitch!" Just you wait) and even though I keep requesting a mammogram there is no hospital around here that will do a baseline for me. It's not like I really want my boobies to be squished, but dang. I'd like to know what I'm working with here. (And as an aside- go HERE to learn about the "Feel Your Boobies" campaign, get a free bumper sticker. I'm ordering a shirt.)

But the other two are probably more likely. Since I was little- like way little, before Kindergarten even, I remember having headaches. Horrible, awful headaches that made it almost impossible to do anything. They seem pretty benign until I was 13 or so when I told my mom it felt like my head was being hit with a sludge hammer repeatedly. She took me to countless doctors who all told me yeah- you have migraines, no big deal. I was tested for all kinds of triggers and allergies, MRI's, and CAT-scans. I've seen more neurologists in my life then most people do when they actually get brain cancer or something.

They all told me that "You know, some people eventually develop brain tumors". Oh- that's EXACTLY what you say to a 19 year old girl who already had the worst of the worst happening to her because she apparently is the red headed step child to the creator/allah/god/whoever is running this shit because girl can't catch a damn break.

They wanted me to stop my birth control and since I was like super sexually active that just wasn't an option. Plus, the boyfriend at the time wasn't father material what with his compulsive lying and no job. And living with his parents. And no discernible skills and issues with authority which includes but not limited to....any boss he'd ever have. So stopping birth control was non-optional.

The next best thing was to get me on a daily medication because at this point I was dealing with a migraine 4 out of the 7 days a week. Every week. Try holding down multiple jobs and school with that. Every drug they offered me had some really fucked up side effects. Basically, I could and most likely become schizophrenic, develop multiple personality disorder, or a myriad of mental health disorders. Oh goodie. Because somehow, and I'm not mental health expert, becoming a schizophrenic seems like a mother fucking downgrade from a migraine.

I opted to not take a daily medicine for fear I'd be a social outcast with 50 cats holed up under the bridge with a shopping cart with two wheels before I could even legally drink.

I mean, if that isn't the shit, I'm not sure what would be.

They DID offer me Imitrex which was supposed to either get rid of a migraine or bring it down so I could at least function without sounding under the influence all the time. My symptoms of a migraine are pretty classic: Intense pain, only on my left side (fun fact: I have never had a headache on my right side...always the left), reduced and/or loss of vision on left side, intense fatigue (to the point where if it's coming fast- I am not safe to drive and need to sleep ASAP), throwing up, even if my vision is reduced/gone I see light swirls and blinking dots. Basically it's what I would assume a really bad acid trip would be.

So one night, I took an Imitrex. It was like 4 in the afternoon on a weekend and Matt & I had just gotten home from something. He knew something was up because I kept running into the same wall near our bedroom and I poured water all over the floor for no reason. So I take an Imitrex, get my ice pack (heat makes it worse), and lay down. Within 2 minutes of taking it, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die. Matt's in the other room watching TV and I realize I feel like I'm suffocating, but falling asleep. I, for whatever reason, can't talk or anything. So the last thing I remembered was having a hard time breathing and falling asleep.

Fast forward 16 hours and I'm awake again, puking like I've never puked before. It was then that I decided that I would never take Imitrex ever again. No way in hell. That was scary. A few months later we were going on vacation with Matt's family. The night before, I get a migraine. I ended up in the ER because I had to have SOMETHING so I could board a 3 am flight without looking drunk. They gave me Demerol which is such a fucking joke anyways, so it didn't do anything. So without telling me, and without reading my chart about the Imitrex, they give me...Imitrex. And again...I feel like I'm going to die. Of course a nurse never checks on me, so I fell asleep and somehow Matt woke me up 5 hours later when they were ushering me out of there. I have no recollection of my flight to Florida.

I had to go to the last neurologist that I've seen, some old guy who kept holding and rubbing my hand. He was weird and likely a pedophile. He gave me some kind of mental health screening which took an hour. Afterwards he told me he suspects I'm suicidal and depressed. Um, I'm always depressed but I wasn't suicidal. I just a migraine. He sent me for more MRI's and Cat-scans.

It was then that I asked the guy reading it to just call my mom and tell her I had a brain tumor. Apparently, it's against the law for him to do that even if I give permission to blatantly lie to my mother. Whatever.

And this weekend I had a horrible migraine- one that knocked me on my ass. This is the second month in a row where I have had a migraine lasting two full days that was painful to the extreme. I haven't been on birth control for almost a year (not trying to get preggers, folks) and so far- I don't get them as often but the pain is worse. And now Bret Michaels had migraines and he's all up in ICU with a brain bleed. Fucking great.

That's probably going to be me. I'm just saying. I am like 99% sure I've got a brain tumor all undercover brother up in here. Every time anything related to death comes up, I'm all "I'm growing a brain tumor. And probably dying right now". I mean, it may not even be related, but I avoid my cell phone. I mean, you hear of people saying cell phones cause brain tumors and I don't know, but I don't think I need to add another peg on the probability of a brain tumor chart. So just text me.

And don't freak out if I start wearing tin foil on my head or something.

I'm Mom's Favorite Today

This post came to mind after seeing the headline "Man arrested after posting children on Craigslist" on TV during lunch. I'm like 90

When my brother and I were younger we somewhere along the line started playing the "Who's Mom's Favorite" game which to this day, drives our mom nuts. Travis is two years younger than me and since he was about 7, always taller than me. We look alike and we both have a wicked sense of humor. Travis cracks me up daily and the memories with my brother are insane. But that's all for a post another day.

Travis and I- Christmas 2003

Anyways. When we were younger we used to fight a LOT. And I'm not talking a little hitting and sometimes biting. I'm talking more like, "I can't believe neither of us broke bones or needed stitches" kind of fighting. And we always fought over really stupid stuff.

I'm convinced that had my parents been home 24/7 or hired baby sitters none of the more infamous fights would have occurred. But our parents both worked full time jobs, didn't think we needed sitters because we were good, responsible kids. And every day when my mom went to work she'd always say, "Don't call me unless your bleeding". And we didn't. Our mom worked at a gas station not far from our house (and by "not far" I mean the other end of town but riding our bikes got us there in 10 minutes, tops) and it was right next to where my best friend Jessica lived. So I saw my mom a lot. Travis on the other hand, played in a tree house they built dubbed "TJ's", the gully, and the swamp. Pretty normal boy stuff.

Occasionally we'd get our friends together which seemed to start a lot of fights. One time we had a "crab apple war" in Little People's Park which was at the end of our block. It ended horribly with Travis throwing the biggest crab apple ever at my friend Jess, and it hit her in the chest. She had a massive bruise there. AND she just had heart surgery this year and don't think I don't see a connection. So when we got home I did what any loyal friend would do.

I beat my brother up. But certainly not before he did some significant damage to me. We called it even when we were both crying.

One time, Travis had to be 6 or 7, we got into a MAJOR fight over the Crayola Art Set. Clearly, this was important. It belonged to me, he stole a marker or something, and I lost it. I went completely bananas. And pulled his hair. I pulled so hard that he had a bald spot. And to this day? Still a bit thin back there.

I was pretty much grounded forever. Which was fine because at the time in my full third grader angst I hated life and I especially hated to be outside. Because we lived in the woods and it was scary, full of bugs, and boring. And I was convinced that the woods, along with the house was haunted. I best just stay in my room playing school and singing Prince's "Diamonds and Pearls", thank you.

But as we got older, Travis and I got along better. We still fought but instead of always being violent, it became a contest of "who can kiss the most ass". Travis could always win this because being the baby of the family automatically puts you ahead. At that time (I was middle school/early high school) I was cooking dinner for my dad who had to be at work an hour before my mom got off. Which was fine, I did it. I mastered Hamburger Helper like nobody else could. So I would cook and then the rule is- whoever cooks doesn't clean. Except if you are me and your brother is Travis. Mom would walk into the door and he'd be all, "Hi, MOM! Here- let me help you. Do you want anything? I can rub your feet" and I'd be all fucking fuming because my mom would always be like, "Dammit, Sara- you have to clean the kitchen" and Travis would all be smiling. (Except I will say that Travis ALWAYS had to clean up after spaghetti night...LOL)

Little fucker.

Travis would get jealous if Mom took me to Walmart when he went outside. Which I always thought was funny. Except for the time Mom took him to the zoo without me. I came downstairs and I realize I'm alone. It's like fucking "Home Alone" except I'm 16 and it's not Christmas. It was hours later and they come back all happy as damn clams and were telling me how awesome the zoo was.

Really? Because I couldn't really say. BECAUSE I WASN'T THERE. And Travis would say, "Oh- we didn't think you'd want to go".

Every time Travis would fuck up, like the summer he was a firebug, or when he'd break sometime of mom's, or just generally be an irritating asshole, I'd say, "ooh..sucks for you. I'm mom's favorite today."

And when I got in trouble for stealing the Easter candy off the coffee table and got my ass BEAT, or when I went through my "I hate you, the world, and everyone" phase wearing my anarchy attire, declaring my love for Marilyn Manson, and everything black phase---Travis was the favorite.

Even to this day, even though I'm 28 and Travis will be 26 in July, we continue our game. I'm pretty sure mom doesn't take us both places at the same time because we still act as if we're 15 and 13. Except now Travis can pick me up higher and body slam me harder. Except I still know that his neck and shoulders will get him to his knees if you squeeze hard enough. I'm sure Mom is embarrassed by us when we do this in stores.

After our Florida trip Mom said she would never vacation with us again. I can't imagine why not.

Domestic Bitch Friday- Round One

Ok lambwhores and goatsluts- it is my first *official* Domestic Bitch Friday. Join me from now on so you can pretend to be as efficient and cool as me.

So the rules are basically you need to find a freebie, post a recipe, and then talk about some big project you did this week. And I will say for the record masturbating and eating ice cream at the same time do not count.

Nice try, though.

So let's talk about my project, first. I am in the middle of a uterus crisis what with my uterus all wanting to be pregnant again and it's not being helped by the fact that both of my children continue to grow. I mean if that isn't the epitome of selfish, I don't know what is.

And every year I do a yard sale but wah, I have way too much. So thankfully another blogger, Danielle, has a baby. And her baby keeps growing, but not as fast as Jackson. Luckily for her, I'm a million shades of awesome and managed to sort through one bin of clothes. So those are on their way lover.

My recipe this week is easy.

Sara's No Where Close To Be Asian- But Just Call It Asian Anyways Chicken

cube up like 3 breasts of cooked chicken, toss with some Western dressing, mix with a bag of frozen broccoli-cauliflower-and whatever else comes in the 3veggie mix-, cook in skillet until done. Serve on rice.

I don't eat the veggies, just the chicken and rice but whatevs. Actually nobody eats the veggies. So I should probably stop even trying this. Whatever- the chicken tastes awesome with the dressing.

I am a sucker for freebies even though 99% of the time I end up throwing them away. Whatever- I like mail, don't judge me.

Lotion Sample- HERE

Panty Liner Sample- HERE

and my favorite- Lube Sample- HERE

OK so enough of that. Yesterday I posted about the BFD and me running two miles and on the verge of death. Thanks for your concerned emails and to the one guy who asked if I've been fucked lately. Um no, but I doubt that would cure dry heaves. Asshole.

But an update: my legs hurt so fucking bad I was walking really attractively today. Like bow legged with something up my ass. Not cute. I couldn't walk bare foot all day because I felt like I was being stabbed on the bottom of my foot. Pretty sure that isn't good, but considering I'm no doctor- I can't be sure. I'm sad I'm down a pair of panties. I had the spins all night last night which I think was weird. And all the dry heaving (6 hours total folks) gave me a headache. Which I still have.

To make up for my calories lost I had spaghetti for dinner. Two plates. And I bought chocolate AND orange slices (the candy, not the fruit). So yeah. I'm off the diet wagon this week.

Big Fucking Dogs + Indonesia Sucks

I am refusing to do a monologue today.

(Wait, does that count as a monologue? FUCK)

Anyways. So I'm working on my fitness and such, as we've heard a million times. I can't go to Curves until Tuesday because I work until 5 and I am currently cat sitting for my friend Lisa who is off in Mexico getting married. Because I am an awesome friend. So in the meantime I'm just going to do a lot of walking to still get something in every day.

Today I went on my walk and I want you to know that despite it being a fucking freezing 40 degrees and windy- I went. Granted I probably should have worn a thicker sweatshirt, mittens and a face mask, but whatevs. I got my exercise done and the fact that I've been inside for about 15 minutes now and still can't feel my cheeks, ears or thighs is only mildly annoying. What is really annoying are the dry heaves (puke threshold) and the intense leg pain.

Why are you dry heaving and having intense leg pain, Sara?

I'll tell you why.

BFD.

Big Fucking Dog chased me and chased me far. I was rocking so hard to Manchester Orchestra on my iPod really loud that I apparently, did not hear the barking. I turned a corner, saw a Big Fucking Dog following me.

(Sara Fun Fact: I am scared shitless of dogs that A) can maul me B) are big enough that their head is at my waist and I'm only 5'3 C) are running.)

So I text a friend, let him know I might be mauled. Apparently, none of my emergency contacts are picking up the phone, so let's hope someone in Alabama would help me out. Anyways. I realize I am approximately two miles from home and it's residential. I decided to start running. I figure eventually this dog's owner would show up since we have fucking leash laws. So I start running. After 3 blocks I realize this plan is stupid since BFD is still following me. I start zig zagging through yards. BFD right behind me, barking a lot.

Almost in tears, I start in a dead run. The kind of running you would do if you escaped from a serial killer holding you as a ritualistic hostage in the middle of the woods while dressed as Bea Arthur and torturing you with used, uncleaned vibrators.

I mean, if your nightmares are anything like mine, you know that is scary enough to warrant running. So I am running as fast as I can with a phone and an iPod in each hand. I basically thinking this dog is going to fucking maul me. When I get to be about three blocks from my house I figured I could just book it. And then it happened.

I tripped on a fucking pine cone.

BFD gets to me, barking, and I was SURE I was going to get bitten. But the dog? Just fucking licked my shoe and stuck his nose in my crotch, then left.

I RAN TWO MILES TO HAVE MY SHOE LICKED AND TO BE MOLESTED BY A BFD.

Needless to say, I feel disgusting and used. And now I'm going through the worst dry heaves and I can barely move my legs. I may die from running. Running sucks.

Anyways. My post today was going to be about Indonesia and how I hate their 6 year old factory workers. I have had so many things fall apart on me today, all made in Indonesia. First, my underwear broke during my run. They were white bikini cut panties, from Victoria Secret, and they fucking fell apart during running. I thought they felt weird all day, but whatevs. So they fall apart and during my run, I had to pull them out because it was preventing me from running. So sorry house on the corner of 54th and Ogden. The panties are mine and I promise they are clean.

But aside from my underwear, I had a pedometer with it's "Proudly Made in Indonesia" engraving on it- fucking fall apart. Like everything came apart in my hands. Then one of the remotes fell apart. Made in Indonesia. Then one of Jackson's toys, which runs on batteries, smelled like it was on fire and then when I took it apart everything snapped in half. I don't know what the hell happened there, but the label said it was made in Indonesia.

So my message to Indonesia: Hire at least 8 year olds. Fuck. I am so pissed off at you I feel like boxing all of this up and making you deal with it. I feel like billing you for not only my products but for stress as well. Are you not feeding the kids? Step it up to 4 crackers, cheap bastards.

Come back tomorrow when I do my first Domestic Bitch Friday.

Question for the evening: If you could make it happen with no strings attached, no guilt, and everybody agreed that it was ok....who would you sleep with (not including current spouse, boyfriend, or girlfriend)?

Book Review: How To Get Divorced by 30- My Misguided Attempt at a Starter Marriage

Before I get into my post (seriously- my first paragraph's are turning into fucking monologues. What the hell is up with that???) I have to respond to a comment that was left on last night's post by AaronBillyMacHarlan. He mentioned that he did a post about me, and USUALLY that means someone is a pervert trying to link me to asian porno or a reader is giving me an award. I mean both are appreciated in their own way, don't get me wrong. (I'm not really into asian porn folks, so if you want to switch it up, feel free.) no- Aaron said he wrote about me and I, as I always am when people post me little tidbits like this, was interested.

So I go there. Thankfully, Aaron wasn't selling porno even though his title "Confessions of a Massively Overweight Prostitute" kind of scared me. I can't even lie about this. And then I thought (as page was loading) maybe he's offering me a job. Except I'm not massively overweight, so I don't know if I'd meet the needs of his clientele. But then I wonder who that clientele might be and then I felt like throwing up my breakfast.

Anyways. He did a bang up job on the article, which I, as your lambwhore and goatslut leader, am telling you to check out. HERE. And Aaron- I live in Wisconsin but like 5 minutes from Minnesota, and even though you don't like chicks I'm glad you like me. You might not meet me, but I might actually be blogging in the bushes near your house. But the fact you think I'm on par with Chelsea Handler? King of the Goat Sluts. I swear to you that if I had like a crown with goats and stuff...I'd give it to you. Or put it in your driveway. Whatever. And he ends by calling me a neglected housewife which I think is a fabulous description which is a great tie in to...

(drum roll, bitches)

My book review of Sascha Rothchild's How To Get Divorced By 30: My Misguided Attempt at a Starter Marriage. Now, I need to tell you the reason I bought the book. So about two weeks before my whiner post I was at Barnes and Noble. I'm walking through with Matt and the kids and BAM! This book literally falls at my feet. So obviously because I'm fantastic citizen, I go to pick it up and see the cover.

I'm pretty sure it sang to me. Not only is the cover the fucking hotness as far as looks (because I judge books by covers. Sue me.) but the title? Is my life. I obviously took a picture on my phone and sent it to a few people who all thought I was crazy. So I didn't buy it.

Fast forward to a week ago and while I'm moping around being all pissed off and wanting to spend money on shit I don't need, I thought of the book. So I drove 20 minutes to Barnes and Noble and bought the book. And a Member Rewards card thingie. Whatevers- the cashier was hot and I'm pretty sure I was hypnotized.

So I read this book in two nights flat and Sascha needs to be my marriage coach. The book is broken up into steps on how to get divorced. And it was funny because I related to every chapter.

STEP ONE: Jump from your horrible early-20s relationship right into a mid-20s relationship without learning or growing or pondering what you really want out of a mate — then marry that person. By your late 20s, you’ll realize you were merely over-correcting the first person’s flaws and that the one you married is just as wrong for you as the one you didn’t, but in very different ways.

Not only is this step relevant to just my marriage but it's basically describing all three relationships I've had. Another line in the book that struck a chord was "But although fading fervor is normal, there also has to be a little jealously, a little insecurity, and a little possessiveness." And I agree. Totally. I know really, Matt thinks he can't do any better than me, which may or may not be true, so he wouldn't leave. He'd rather settle and be unhappy forever. Now me on the other hand am the opposite. I may never get married again, but by fucking god I have to think it's possible for me to be in a relationship with someone and not dread coming home. I'm not a jealous person but back in the day- if Matt was eyeing up a chick I'd immediately compare myself. Now I'm secretly begging he'd just cheat so I'd have an excuse out and not look like an asshole. I try very hard to have a social life now because I realized that by not having one from age 19-27 I was killing myself. I missed EVERYTHING that 20 something assholes do. I'm not saying I want to be puking and on the verge of death in the bathroom of a seedy bar and wondering where my underwear went. I just would have liked the opportunity. But now when I go out- if Matt is every jealous I have no idea. I have no idea if he feels anything ever because I don't hear about it. I sometimes feel like I have a better emotional relationship with my gay cat than I do my husband.

In all there are 30 steps and each one is funnier and funnier, but more sad. But it's only sad if you are in say, a happy marriage. Or are a newlywed. But if you have hit the 5 year mark in your marriage and wake up 5 out of 7 days hoping that your spouse has moved their stuff out while you were sleeping and left an optional note- you might enjoy this book. If you plan events and kind of hope your spouse backs out so you can bring a kick ass friend and pretend to be hot and single, this book is for you. If you already have at least one marriage under the table by age 30 you will love this book. If you are a guy who never wants to get married you should read this book to know where and when you should start fucking up.

Got A Minute? Because I Apparently Don't

I just want to put it out there that I have heartburn and my legs hurt so fucking bad I can barely move. ALSO... let's all thank Nikolett over at Better Than Coffee because if you notice to your right there are THREE buttons for my blog for you to pimp me on your blog. Nikolett also made my header and because she is a million shades of awesome and win I'm dubbing her my Awesome-Stuff-On-My-Blog (otherwise known as ASOMB) guru. Let's all scream for Nikolett. She is awesome and my hero.

Also coming to my rescure because I'm a ridiculous failure at anything with "HTML" in it because it's got weird symbols and requires more than 30 seconds of thought is Krysten who made my Etsy button which is on her page as well. Krysten rocks my world and at some point, we are going to fuck Hayward, Wisconsin UP. (We're gonna meet there since it's not really the middle, but we're going to pretend and there's shit to do in Hayward except Lumberjack shit. HEY!!! We can be lumberjacks, Krysten!!!!! Whatever. We *may* get kicked out of Hayward)

OK so on to tonight's post. A few days ago I talked about my panties being out of my ass, which you know- is always kind of a nice feeling, and how I'm a domesticated bitch and basically fabulous. Well I get comments on my FaceBook all the time and even a few of you, cough *Mr. O * cough asked me how I do it.

Do I have super powers? Probably. Do I have underage children cleaning my house 24/7? No, but if you know where I can get a maid who won't steal my stuff, works for free, and speaks little English- let me know.

I don't think I really have a secret. I'm just ridiculously organized and I make lists ALL.THE.TIME. It drives everyone around me nuts. I can't help it. Nobody's bitching I don't forget yall's birthdays, right??? (By the way- holla to Jandy who'll be birthday partying it up Sunday!!) Right.

Here is my schedule for Monday - Thursday:
6:00 am: Wake up, kind of. Basically roll over to see Lenny humping my foot and Rosie trying to get into my closet.
6:30 am: Drag ass out of bed because Jackson is screaming "MOMMA!!!" I then go upstairs, pee, wake up Olivia and make her get her outfit, wake up Jackson. Change Jackson (and pray it's not poop because I'm not equipped to handle poop before I'm even really awake), get him dressed.
6:45: get myself dressed, put on super fast makeup, attempt at making my hair decent. Grab my breakfast, lunch, gym clothes, purse. Pull out meat for dinner (if applicable), feed/water animals.
7:00: out the door- drop the kids off at my mom's, on my way to work.
7:20-7:30: arrive at work.
7:30-5:00 pm: work.
5:00: go to Curves, get molested
5:45: leave Curves, head home
6:00- cook supper, talk/play with kids. Talk to Matt
6:30- eat dinner with family then clean up if Matt is doing baths (every other night)
7:00- kids go to bed, I start my fuckmill after putting in laundry, going through the mail and organizing bills
7:30 start blogging
7:45- read blogs from day/become a comment slut
8:30- check 20SB, FaceBook, other blogger groups. I'll sometimes chat with people and post.
9:00- clean kitchen, quick clean of floors, bathroom.
9:30-11: read then go to bed

Now the weekends (Friday-Sunday) are different.
6:00 am: Wake up, kind of. Basically roll over to see Lenny humping my foot and Rosie trying to get into my closet.
6:30 am: Drag ass out of bed because Jackson is screaming "MOMMA!!!" I then go upstairs, pee, wake up Olivia and make her get her outfit, wake up Jackson. Change Jackson (and pray it's not poop because I'm not equipped to handle poop before I'm even really awake), get him dressed.
6:45: get myself dressed, put on super fast makeup, attempt at making my hair decent. Pull out meat for dinner (if applicable), feed/water animals.
7:00: get breakfast for the kids and figure out what the fuck we're doing today
7:30: start laundry, clean laundry room
8-10: play with the kids and be fun mommy
10:30: get ready for lunch (Friday's we got out for Happy Meals and then the weekends I make stuff)
11:00: eat lunch
12:00-1:00- more play, dance parties. Laundry load #2 goes in
1:00- Jackson goes in for nap, Olivia watches a movie
1-3- clean living room, bathroom, my room, kitchen. Fold laundry #1, put #2 in dryer
3:00 wake Jackson up, more play/walk/outside
5:00-start dinner, fold laundry #2, start #3
6:00 - eat dinner/clean up/ clean kitchen AGAIN
7:00- bedtime then fuckmill
7:45 blog
8:00- craft/Etsy store stuff
9:00- fold #3 laundry, clean floors
10:00- *maybe* watch some TV.
11:00- bed time

OK- so that's basically my schedule. It is almost the same every day. And in between all of that, I email friends regularly- as much as I can (sorry if I'm slacking!!!), plan menus, make shopping lists, pay bills, mail out birthday cards/gifts, counsel friends, watch True Blood on Sundays, I tackle one major household project (sorting closets/dressers/cleaning out porches/re-organizing cupboards, etc) a week.

I try very hard to be efficient and even though I do a lot, I feel like such a lazy ass somedays. Some days I feel bad that I didn't get to email or call a friend. I feel like bigger shit if I didn't get to the post office and mail that card because I want everything to be on time all the time.

When I was in college I had two full time jobs and a part time telemarketing job while going to school full time AND still doing a lot around the house either in my own apartment or when I was at home. I graduated at the top of my class even though I remember very little aside from the fact that I slept in my car 3 nights a week because it didn't make sense to drive home only to turn around. So I'd fall asleep in my backseat in the school parking lot. It was awful. But I've always been the kind of person to work really hard and not take time to do stuff for myself.

So when you see me going to a concert, shopping, or going out with a friend on the weekend? That is major. I have decided that I can't do so much anymore. So the schedule you see? Is only half of what I would have been doing oh...a year ago. It's amazing what happens when you slow down...even just a little bit.

Am I an astrological failure or winner?

So this is a post I wanted to do around my birthday but things got in the way and well- I'm a busy chick, yo.

I think we all remember my birthday and every day I remind you of my awesomeness so I think it's safe to say that your Lamb Whore and Goat Slut leader is a Pisces. And people always think I'm an Aries which bleh. No offense, but I know a few Aries peeps and I think I'm cooler than them. But how do I compare to other Pisces? If I can't succeed at marriage then I hope I can succeed at being a Pisces. Because technically I shouldn't have to do any work. This shit should come naturally.

After doing approximately 37 seconds of research on Google I found a really comprehensive profile of a Pisces woman. Let's compare, shall we?

Pisces Strength Keywords: Compassionate, Adaptable, Accepting, Devoted, Imaginative
Pisces Weakness Keywords: Oversensitive, Indecisive, Self-pitying, Lazy, Escapist

OK so I think the strength ones are pretty spot on. I mean I'm compassionate, I go with the flow, and once I am your friend I'm stuck you like fungus. In a good way. My weakness? OK- I will admit to being oversensitive, indecisive, and escapist. But there is no way in hell I'm lazy or self pitying. I am probably the most productive person I know and I don't self pity. I just don't understand why my parade is always the one to be shit on.

Pisces and Independence:Pisces needs a dominant partner of role model in their life or they will very easily fall into a pit of self-pity and self-undoing. When they are independent and inspired by life's events, their creativity comes shining through but they are unable to be on their own for long before they start dreaming in their imaginary world of happy people and happy endings. They need other people to keep them grounded and on the right track.

Hmm..I would prefer to have a dominant partner, actually. Matt is pretty quiet, submissive and will never tell me if I'm pissing him off even though I know I am. And I will agree that I suck at being single. In fact I was only single for a few weeks between my only 3 boyfriends (JR-John-Matt). I am much better in a relationship. Thank god I have some kick ass friends.

Pisces and Friendship:Pisces will go out of their way to help a friend. They are extremely sensitive and loyal. They will take a friend's problem and make it their own and suffer with them. This is the weak spot of Pisces but any friend of this zodiac sign should know that although they are attracted to people with severe problems who desperately need help, this actually does more harm them good. They need a strong positive friend to make them strong. Pisces like adventure, new situation and social events. A Pisces friend will always have something exciting in mind and it is a very fulfilling, long lasting friendship.

Totally agree. All of my friends have issues, and I like to help out in any way I can. I will go broke if I think my friends can use money more than me. I will pay people's way even if I can't afford it- I make it work. I think my friends will agree that I can make any situation fun, I'm a very kick ass and awesome friend, and I always have a story to tell.

Pisces and Business: Pisces does not take well to a position of leadership or high business person, they are too sensitive and lacking in self-discipline and lacking self-confidence for a positions such as that. What they are good at is is writing, acting, poetry, or being musicians. They are extremely creative and can use their skills of creativity and their understanding of people to inspire others. Unfortunately, most Pisces take the easy way out in life and never attain the degree of fame that they possibly could, they have to stop self-doubting themselves because they are capable of being good role models and leaders to others, people do look up to them.

Oh fo' sho', bitches. I'm creative and I'm good at a lot of things. I have a lot of interests and I could never narrow down my career path to one field, it was always a mix of writer-singer (I can't sing worth shit but not for lack of trying)-geologist-astronomer-professional organizer-etc. My problem is I am always doubting myself.

Pisces Deep Inside: Pisces have an intuitive and psychic ability more then any other zodiac signs. They trust their gut feelings and if they do not, they quickly learn to because they realize that their hunches are usually correct. Pisces downfall is their sensitivity and their inability to reject another person. They do not like rejection and they try to treat others the way they want to be treated so they will rarely say no to a person for fear of hurting their feelings. They will help another person with their problems and like to do so because making others feel good in turn makes them feel good. Pisces is the zodiac sign of self-undoing. People born under this zodiac sign are not susceptible to bad luck and unfortunate events, they bring them on themselves by overindulging, laziness and a knack for picking poorly suited partners and friends. The inner conflict of Pisces is extremes of temperament and conflicting emotions. They are trying to pinpoint themselves on the real world while their spiritual world can cloud their vision, they will try to escape or avoid a situation instead of confronting it.

Hilariously and fucking creepily accurate.

Pisces Erogenous Zone:The feet are the most sensitive spot for Pisces. Massaging the feet and sucking on toes are usually Pisces favorite and will get them steamed up and ready for action.

Please god don't ever suck my toes. This grosses me out to no end. Massage? Yes, please. But the spot that gets me almost instantly ready? The side of my stomach.

Sex With Pisces: Sex with Pisces is an emotional and physical experience, and if you allow it, it will be a spiritual experience as well. They like to seduce. Pisces likes risque encounters and offbeat activities. A very fun partner for those who like different encounters and physical sex.

Um, I am totally not going to go into THIS a whole bunch but I think it's safe to say this is totally accurate. I actually enjoy having sex, a lot, but I don't need it. I'd like to have lots but I'm ok if I don't. Case in point: 4 months. We'll leave it at that. ;)

What it's Like to Date a Pisces Woman: Pisces women are very captivating and fascinating. She makes a man feel like a man because of her need for a protector and leader. She is charming, soft and feminine. The ultimate enchantress. She can see right through a man and she is not easy to fool, so any man better be straight with her and not lead her on, because instead of confronting him, she will simply disappear. She needs to nurture and will give the man orders, but only for his own good. She will make sure he is eating properly and getting enough sleep, sort of like a mother nurturing a child. What she needs in return is a man to protect and cherish her, make her feel like she is needed and loved. She might almost be clingy and dependent but never overbearingly. Her partner will become of better half. She needs patience and sympathy and you have to be gentle with her. Don't poke fun or tease and definitely do not reject her harshly because she can't stand rejection. She is extremely romantic and will lose herself in the relationship. The Pisces woman is the ultra feminine nurturer, the ideal woman for the right man.

OK- I agree with almost all of this. But in no way am I clingy. No way. Do I like to spend time with my man? Absolutely. Am I heartbroken if he has friends and chooses to see them? No. In fact I like to have my space and if the guy has friends and needs to get out? THANK YOU. Because I don't like a clingy guy.

I think overall I am an astrological winner. I am pretty spot on with what a Pisces should be. So how would you compare to this? Are we similar or way different??

What We Did The Weekend: Sara vs. Matt

This weekend was super duper busy, as is every weekend in April apparently, and I felt I was pretty damn productive. Things I did:

I made cards! I made a bunch for me to keep and a bunch for the Etsy shop. (By the way- the kids would like to eat lunch next weekend. But stuff HERE)

Probably the most fun I had was getting my nails done and my FIRST EVER pedicure with one of my bestest friends, Lisa. Lisa is getting married next Saturday, in Mexico, and because I can't go to that I'm doing as much pre-wedding stuff that I can with her. And I have to say, I've known Lisa almost eleven years and every year she would plan out her wedding even though she wasn't engaged. Or close to it. (I also heard about the hot dog tattoo she wanted but never got...) and I've got to be honest. I'm pretty bummed that I don't get to go see her get married, not because it's in Mexico on a beach, but because the time she's actually getting married? I don't even get to see her plans laid out. So yah, I'm bummed. BUT I get to do something special with her on the 30th (when she comes back) so that will be great. But while she's gone I get to take care of her babies, two adorable kitties - Mr. Daisy and Tulip.

But here's my pedicure (sorry for the turned picture..) (and side note- it's really hard to take a picture of your feet. They look WAY cuter not on the floor. Anyways)

I also went shopping with my mom and got a HOT pair of black heels. I'm so excited it's ridiculous. I'll try to wear them this week and get a picture for you. they hurt like hell but they are so awesome looking. *sigh*

I also did 4 loads of laundry, typed up recipe cards (more on this Friday....), got 3 packages ready to go, sorted through printed pictures, started a new book, talked to a really good friend on the phone for over an hour, talked to a friend from high school online for...um...a long time Friday night/early Saturday morning, cleaned the kitchen, the dining room, vacuumed the living room, washed the porch windows, cleaned the bathroom and laundry room, and got rid of stuff I don't need. Overall, I didn't do a ton but I felt like I did. Success.

Matt, on the other hand, didn't work this weekend which sucks money wise but I know he needed the break and that is fine by me. On Saturday night he went out to his parents because his dad had the lead role in the community rendition of Hello, Dolly! and so I was alone Saturday, which was nice but weird. I'm not used to having NOTHING to do. So I went to bed early. It was glorious.

But today, after Jackson's nap he had taken the kids to the park while I was loading things into my Etsy shop. After I was done I saw the kids in the yard but no Matt. So obviously, I run out there. No, Matt is out there- he's on the garage roof.

You remember the garage, don't you? Well it had a chimney. It leaked and was a pile a shit much like the rest of the garage. Matt apparently got fed up with the leaking and threat to fall down so he took it down himself. That pile? Is the chimney.

So what we now have is a massive hole in the roof which I'm sure is covered in wood which we all know will do wonders from keeping out the rain anyways. I don't even need to watch the weather to know it will likely rain for an entire week straight now that we have a massive fucking hole in the roof of our already dilapidated garage. *sigh*

I swear to you, the only reasoning I see behind his destructive for no reason ways is that he thinks if he just destroys it out of the blue that I will suddenly shit $8000 for a new garage. Or $1000 for the new laundry room. Whatever. It's like seek and destroy in this house. And frankly? I'm so tired of it I can't even fight about it.

So Matt- if by chance you read this, and I doubt you do otherwise I'm sure you would have piped up about the last garage post: STOP TEARING THE FUCKING HOUSE AND GARAGE APART. WE CANNOT AFFORD NEW STUFF YET.

So how was YOUR weekend?

Panties Are Out Of My Ass

OK, so first up I am sorry that yesterday I was all Debbie Downer instead of my usual Debbie Does Dallas self. I promise to better. But with that, I want you all to know I adore you all and you all make my day. Every now and then I need a good slap up the head and THANK YOU to everyone who not only made it through that long ass post but also commented. Your positive words really do mean a lot and it's because of you that I was able to just pull my thong out of my ass. Which then you know, being a thong, it kind of went back, so I totally changed my panties. Just for you.

Yay!

BUT I have lots and lots of things to tell you about so let's get the shiz-nit going, mmkay?

First- I'm a mother fucking winner and Melissa Leah is my mother ship. Why? Because I won her contest and I am getting a $30 iTunes gift card. So you're probably all, "Oh man..what are you going to download, Sara?!" Well that's a good question. I'm undecided. I mean, I need to get the new Lovehammers because even though their website SWEARS they are sold at Best Buy, it must be every other Best Buy except for mine because it isn't there. I had a text convo with Mr. O the other day venting my frustration. They have Kevin Federline but they don't have any Anberlin, Lovehammers, Anya Marina, All Time Low, Wallflowers, Lykke Li, or the first Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. WHAT THE HELL?! But they have Kevin Federline and god damn Skee-Lo. Jebsus. But back to me being a winner. I also want to download some Juke Kartel. I will give you a handful of sparkle IF you can tell me what the Lovehammers (Marty Casey) and Juke Kartel (Toby Rand) lead singers in common. Both guys are just ubber fucking hot ANYWAYS, but I love both of their bands. A lot. SO, if you are looking for new music please, please, please check them out.

Second, you may have seen Rebel Mel up around these parts commenting and I hope you've checked her blog out, Tweeded. If you have been to her blog, particularly on Friday's, you'll notice that she has a Domesticated Friday post and since she's busy....I'm her guest poster this weekend. This is really super fantastic because I was going to jack her idea anyways so this is my first one and it got my feet wet. So starting NEXT week on Friday's I'm going to be doing my Domesticated Bitch Friday (see how I changed it to suit me there?? CLEVER) on my blog and I hope you'll join me.

Third, I have to tell you about something very cool and fun coming up on Monday. Mr. O, one of my blog besties, hosts a radio show on Monday nights 7:30 - 9 p.m. (central time, yo) and you can stream it online at: http://wegl.auburn.edu (click on streaming at the top). Last week was part one (numbers 30-16) of great vocalists. I'm not going to go as far as saying BEST vocalists (because he is totally leaving off Frank Sinatra and I'm about to start a protest, except I'm totally out of poster board. Mr. O_- you are getting off easy this time...) but on Monday it's the top 15. You must check this out. If nothing else, it's a really fun time. BUT to catch up, check out his blog post HERE to see what we heard last Monday. So this Monday- check it out or be a loser.

Fourth, I am going to be Krysten's bitch. What this basically means is that I'm going to sponsor her blog and I'm being forced to make a button and AH!! I can't do it. I'm a button retard. SADS. So eventually I'll get that and you'll see me on HER BLOG.

Fifth, my Etsy shop is up and stocked, and more will be coming soon. Buy stuff so my kids can eat this week---HERE.

Next, here are some randoms that I took today. This is the sign for Dan's Feed Bin. I've only been in there 3 times, all three to get food for the dog of my at-the-time boss and all three times the smell was unbearable. But if you can't see it the sign reads: "If we can't feed it, you don't need it" and I so badly want to add "y'all" to the end of that. OH! Here's the bathroom sink at the scrapbook store I went to today. Keeping it clASSy, yo. And honestly? When I saw it, I thought it was a penis. I don't know why I thought that- I was still out of it from exercising.

But the fun story for the day. So Matt goes to work ubber early (like 3 or 4 a.m.) so I get the kids up which you know, fine, no big deal. We put them to bed an hour later than usual so that I could MAYBE sleep in. That didn't happen because at exactly 5:03 a.m. Jackson is SCREAMING like he's being murdered. So I didn't fly up there because I'm not even awake so I'm more like stumbling like a drunk up the stairs while somehow stubbing my feet into everything possible along the way. But when I get in there? Little man had his ENTIRE leg through the crib slats, which are one inch wide. First off- how the fuck does this happen? Aren't they narrow to prevent this? And then I realized I had no idea what to do. So I have him screaming, Olivia is now screaming, both are crying, and I'm digging through my bathroom looking for something to use. Lotion does nothing, just makes him smell like pears. I'm using hand soap, bubble soap, shampoo, conditioner..nothing is working. I, of course, have no Vaseline because aside from his circumcision, I have never needed it. So I reach into the drawer and find the one thing that got him out in a second. KY Jelly.

I didn't think about it until after I cleaned him up from the various liquids I squirted all over, and then cleaned the floor, and then changed the sheets. Then it hit me. Why the fuck is KY Jelly in the bathroom? Upstairs...on the other end of the house from our room?? And then I'm like oooohh yeah..... no seksi times for us so you know- Matt's doing his thing. Well thank god because it saved Jackson from having a dislocated knee or me, god forbid, trying to cut the slats.

I may always be right, but I'm not always perfect. Alert the press.

Before I get into my post, I want to post a super duper quick (because I almost pissed myself with joy this morning) weight loss update. Yes, I'm still trying to lose weight and even though I felt like I hit a wall and gained a few pounds back, I realized it was muscle I gained but more on that later (like maybe this weekend. Ugh. We'll see)

The biggest news EV-AH?! My size 16 pants?? Way too fucking big for me. I want it noted that when I bought these bitches in November for $85 (on sale even), I bought them off the fat girl rack in Maurices and they were snug.

Now? Too fucking big. Fall right off my bubble ass! So for the interweb perverts- take a peek down my too huge for me pants!
You can almost see my thighs! Mary Kate or Ashley Olsen could be in my pants with me! It's very exciting up in here. EXCEPT for the fact that I only own 3 pairs of jeans and now I'm down to 2. Leaving me with one pair that are not my "super slob but favorite barely staying together by threads" jeans. So eventually, we'll need to fix this.

Anyways. So this week, and really for the last 2 1/2 years, I have been doing some pretty big time self discovery. I have always had a good handle on who I was and what I wanted out of life but in the last few years that has kind of spiraled out of my control and it leaves me wondering what the fuck am I doing?

I'm confused. Growing up I had always wanted to be married (young), have kids (young), have a career and a house. Be a grown up. And I have done all of these things. Is everything perfect? I thought it was but Matt proved to me that it wasn't. Am I satisfied with where I am? No. I don't think I am.

I like my job most days. I really love what I do, I believe in the mission of the program and I adore the people I work with (not just fellow staff but volunteers too). Some days I'm so stressed out and I want to leave and never come back. But then other days I realize I miss it and I miss the familiarity of it and I think, I could work here for a long time and be ok with that.
I adore my kids. I mean they are the most fun, most hilarious, most lovable part of my day. No matter how bad I feel inside they always cheer me up. At least until they go to bed and then sometimes I get sad again.

I will be married six years this June. Matt and I have been together for eight total and it wasn't always the way it is now. Some days I feel fine and others I feel trapped. Some days it's not so bad but then I look back and those are the days I don't really see him. Some days I'm so angry that I feel like crying and throwing things, including the towel on this marriage, and those are hard. Because I can't do any of these things- no matter what I'm a mommy first, wife second. For some people it's the other way around but it just isn't for me. I know that at the end of the day, I can't re-do what I do with my kids. I can re-do my relationship and even if it means it won't work out- I'm ok. I don't need to be in a relationship. I would like to, but my number one priority are my kids. They need me.

But I realize why Matt does the things he does. Why he's done some pretty bad things, why he's lied repeatedly about things, why he is the way he is at least to an extent. I do believe he knows why he does the bizarre, unbelieveable things he does but he won't tell me. I believe he has serious issues that I can't begin to deal with and I certainly did not sign up for it. I suppose I would feel differently had he been upfront with me in the first two years of our relationship, but he wasn't. He deliberately lied and hid things for me. I was duped. And now I'm trapped.

I know that I'm not easy. I am organized to such an extent that it can drive people around me nuts. I suck at delegating things- I'd rather do it all myself and hammer myself into the ground with exhaustion than let go of things or give some of the load to someone else. I like things done my way because I'm so Type A that I could be a scientific study. I'm sarcastic and I'm not always nice. I am the hardest critic of myself and I don't always believe people when they say nice things to me. I've grown up, not necessarily criticized, but I was never gushed over. I never heard the "you're so pretty/smart/funny/talented/etc" from anybody. I can count on one hand how many times I remember being told that I meant something to somebody and not just because we were friends/related. When I hear it, I won't always believe you.

I have never had trust issues with anyone until about two years ago when everything that I knew imploded. Now it is all I can do to not drive by his work to make sure he's there.

I suffer from depression and anxiety but choose not to medicate for them. I'd rather feel horrible than nothing at all. I'm shy when meeting new people. Once upon a time I used to be able to go into a room and make 10 friends right off the bat but now the thought of getting to the room is scary for me. Ironically, I would still call myself social because I do look forward to going to new places, meeting new people and having new experiences. Some days I just don't know where I'm at or what I want to do.

I have no vocal filter. If I don't like you or what you said- you will often know it. I make jokes and people don't always know I'm joking. But that will flip on me when I am sincere, people don't always think I am. I don't always think about what I say and I'm very opinionated. I treat people fairly and I don't like discrimination.

I would give the shirt off my back for you, I would do anything anyone asked me because I want to be accepted. I want a friend. I want a lover who loves me, who cherishes me, who gets excited just to see me at the end of the day. I am a good person and I like to help anywhere I can. I get satisfaction from doing things for people whether it's donating time or money to a cause I believe in, or buying/making things for my friends because it reminds me of them. Sometimes, people don't know how to take that, but I'm just being nice. I thought of you, you mean something to me, so here you go. I expect nothing in return. I just like knowing I maybe made your day a little bit more awesome.
I can be bossy and moody, I can also be fun and lovable. I like to laugh and sometimes I just want to cry. Some days I want to be near people and other days I would prefer to be alone and hang out by myself. I don't like being questioned but I like to talk. In fact sometimes I talk too much. I smile a lot and will start laughing hysterically for absolutely no reason. I'm scared of bugs, dogs, the dark, and getting lost. I can't read a map or a tape measure.

I am not an easy person to be in love with. I am not an easy person to live with. But if, at the very end of the day, that person is still there that must mean something. Either they really love me and want it to work or they feel like I do. Trapped and unsure.

I know that Matt loves me. I know this because he does. I know I love him. But I don't think we love each other in the way that makes marriages last. I love him because he gave me the two best things in the whole wide world. No matter what happens- I will always be forever grateful he gave me my babies. And I know in my heart staying together for them isn't the right thing to do and eventually it could be detrimental. I also that no matter what I decide I will feel like a horrible failure. If we separate I will have failed in my vows to love and honor forever, sickness and health, and all that stuff. If I stay I will always wonder if I was meant for something else. I can't stay just because I know it would crush him. It would be heartbreaking for him and I would feel terrible for breaking his heart. And on the flip side I think well, he already broke mine. It's only fair I suppose. But I hate feeling like that and I hate thinking it.

I'm also a very wishy washy person. I have a hard time making a decision. I have a hard time of letting things go, whether they are good or bad. The most memorable compliment I have ever received was when someone told me I had a "really contagious, wonderful, most uplifting laugh ever. Don't lose that." I feel like I've lost it. I don't feel like the super upbeat, hilarious, spontaneous, fun, silly, always happy and smiling Sara.

I am confused by the people around me. Two years ago everyone told me to leave and I lost some friends because I didn't. I was pregnant and scared- so I stayed. Now? People think I'm giving up. I have never understood what anyone's expectations for me were and now I'm more confused than ever. I would be lying if I said that I never wished I could just act on the attractions I feel towards other people.

Is it a quarter life crisis? Is it a marriage that isn't going to last? Does it get better?

What do I do? I know only I can answer it but it's times like this where I just knew the answer. Like a "choose your ending" book and I could just see what would happen depending on my choice.

I do know that I'm scared. I know that I want to be in love. I want to be happy. I just don't know how to do it.

Opposites Attract. Apparently.

So this week we've taken the tour of my house and my crazy and you're probably wondering- "oh my GOD, Sara!!! How can you have ANY more to show us?"

Yes. I have the garage to show you. Now, I don't go out into the garage for a few reasons. Number one being that I *get* that it is the "man space" and lots of manly things happen out there that I'm sure I don't understand and frankly, I probably don't want to know about. I get all of that. I also have a bigger reason for not going out there. I get claustrophobic, panicky, and will start having an anxiety attack. I feel like I've walked into an episode of Hoarders. You know I just want to bring in buckets with "Save" "Donate" "Trash" on them and get all Niecy Nash on my husband.

So this is his "computer area" (and I'm making this up as I go. I have no idea what he calls these parts but I see computer shit- so that's what we're calling it). Now, THANKFULLY it's not in the house anymore. But every once in awhile he drags stuff in and I keep my mouth shut until a second bin and more shit comes in. No way.

OK- now this corner IS partially my fault. This is the only corner I'm allowed in. It has a box for every holiday (except Christmas has like 5) and it's yard sale stuff. So that's against the wall. But everything from the computer monitors to the left is his. My stuff is stacked, labeled, and put away in an orderly fashion. AND...most of it will be gone this summer. YAY! Funny story though. See that 2x4 in the middle? THAT is what's holding the garage up. I'm not kidding. The guy who lived here before cut through a major support beam in order to put in a faulty garage door. He did all of that instead of buying the little expansion rod to make the door go down a little lower. Idiot. Suffice it to say, every winter we hope the bitch goes down so we can build a new one.

So when you walk into the garage from the utility door and look to your right...this is what you see. You see that white cube with a brown top? That's my freezer. Yeah- it should be in the house but it's not yet. Do you even know how many casseroles I could make in freeze??
This is further down the wall. Look! A sink we'll never use because it's ugly as hell and has small bowls and I want bigger bowls. The sink is laying on about $80 of flooring he never returned and I highly doubt Home Depot will take it back 3 years later. The stroller we use. It's a double so it's huge and just a pain in the ass to fold up. A screen door that is a piece a shit we got for free that we aren't going to use. Oh and on the floor...siding for the house. Which is probably good to have in case of a freak storm or something.

This is Olivia working the can crusher. If you tell her we need to crush cans, she is ON IT. She begs Matt to crush cans when they go outside. But you can hardly see her amongst the shit.

See? Look at all of that shit!

So now do you see why I'm so tidy and organized?? Because I can't live like this. God help me if I die and my kids are left with only Matt. They would be hoarders.

Matt also has an affinity for collecting cardboard boxes. Which drives me nuts. If we buy something he feels compelled to keep the box FOREVER. I will not lie and say that I let this go by. No. Eventually, when he's at work, I throw them in other people's recycle bin and claim stupid when he asks where they are. I mean come on. We no longer own the TV but hot damn! We have the box!

At any given time Matt has enough stuff to put multiple computers together. Which is great and he usually sells them for cheap and yay! You'd think that would be great because it's extra money and stuff leaving. But no. It just means that someone will give him their defunct computer and he tinkers. I can't tell you how many computer cases are in the garage. Or boxes of cords. If you EVER need a cord, do not buy one. Let me know we probably have it in every variety and color.

He actually wasn't always like this. It's like the more space I give him, the more shit he hangs on to. When he lived on his own, it was one Rubbermaid box of cords/wires/etc. Now...I can't even tell you how many. In our apartment we had a small one stall garage that we had to share. It wasn't bad and I'd help clean it about once a month. I bought all new storage things (of course) for his tools, and tool do-da's, and weird computer things, etc. He has all of those, full, but keeps accumulating.

And every spring when I go out there for the first time I always ask, "So...are we getting rid of some of this shit this year?"

And every spring I get the same response, "I threw out a bunch last week!" But the garbage cans aren't full and have no evidence of anything being tossed. *sigh* He wants a new garage so bad, and I agree- we need a new one. This one is on the verge of death. But I hesitate because even though he says he'd keep a new one clean I doubt it. I really don't think he can do it. But fortunately for me, we're in no position to build a new garage.

In the meantime, cross your fingers that the laundry sink gets fixed AND the freezer can be welcomed into the family.

Cribs Part Two (where Sara showcases her crazy)

I've talked, briefly, about my borderline-could-be-described-as OCD organization tendencies before I'm sure. I did the Cribs Part One tour the other day and some of you asked about my underwear drawer and under my bed. Oh, you'll get those plus more. I feel like you didn't get a close enough look at the house because if you had, it'd paint a better picture of who I am. Specifically, it would highlight how um..tidy I am.

So upstairs we have those book cabinets for the kids. I have their books organized and Olivia, at age 4, already understands my system. The top shelf on the left are board books we shove in my purse if we got places I may need to keep them busy. Then to the right are stories we've read for the week at bedtime so we have no repeats. Second shelf are paperback and music books Some larger books on on their sides. Bottom shelf are hard covers, a ton of Dr. Seuss and some other classics.

My upstairs linen closet, next to the bathroom. Below this shelf is my laundry hamper. But the clear boxes on the top left? Each box has a "theme": teeth care, first aid, lotions/skincare, travel items. The basket on top are hand towels and wash cloths. There are usually 8 towels on top to leave two piles of 4. (Even numbers..notice that??) The bottom shelf is toilet paper, flushable wipes (for the kids), a box of girl stuff (because shockingly, I get my period folks!), a basket of hair product for me, cleaning supplies.

Bathroom cabinet contains: my makeup bag, portable potty seat, bubble bath, air freshener. Box contains flushable wipes, soap, razors, plug in (with refill) of glade plug in do da's.

My cupboards! OK, so after living together for 8 years Matt still has no idea about my system. *sigh* Top shelf- cereal, salads for Matt's lunches, extra condiments. Middle shelf: items that are boxed or in pouches. Salsa, nuts, open crackers ALWAYS in front. Bottom: canned goods, peanut butter (crunchy and creamy), clear containers with cookies and goldfish.

What some freaks call a "Command Center". This is where I have my menu of food for the month. Yes, I really do plan my meals. Next to it is a community event calendar of things happening that we may/may not be doing. I also have a clipping of every consignment shop in the Duluth/Superior area. I'm a whore for deals. Then miscellaneous business cards I need at the handy. This is in my kitchen.

Yes- we watch movies. We have a TON and the book case in our living room only showcases a few. The bottom shelf are kids movies only- we have pretty much everything that is awesome. The middle shelf is crammed full. Sometimes you need a butter knife to get one out. No, I'm not joking.

We're just now filling up the top shelf. This is where our movie box sets are basically. That pink box on top of the Star Wars box set? The movie Robsessed. My sister in law knows me well. :) True Blood season 2 will be living here VERY soon. (Yay!!)

This is the picture that gets the most attention in the house when people come over. This is Matt and I, on our wedding day obviously, when we were head over heels in love. We did outdoor pictures in Canal Park and this one was my favorite. It was a candid and not staged at all. So I had it blown up to 16x20 and put it in a beach wood frame. Love it.

Some of you emailed me asking me what the shelf I was talking about looked like along with the black and white photo. So here it is. The cube shelf has the kids toys and each square has a theme. Obviously. (little people, cars/trucks, figurines/action figures, big legos, balls, books, dolls, nerf guns/squirt guns/etc, travel toys)

The fridge! Yes- my fridge always looks like this. Drinks are always on top: juices to the left, soda/milk and my Robert Pattinson water bottle to the right. Second shelf: eggs, block cheese already opened, breads/muffins/bagels. Third shelf: left overs for lunches, bottled water in the way back. The drawer has sandwich stuff- cheeses and meats. The bottom drawers: left are baking supplies and the right are veggies.

The door is pretty easy and I don't think I really need to explain this.

My freezer. It's pretty bare since we aren't doing a lot of meat dishes for awhile. I buy veggies in bags then store them in containers- WAY easier to store. Those things in the cups with popsicle sticks? Homemade pudding pops. YUMMY. I also buy buns/bread and freeze when they go on sale.

The freezer door is the messiest part. I'm almost embarrassed to show you. So the top are the frozen cups/can coolers. And waffles. Because waffles are full of awesome and win. Like me. The bottom? Frozen fruit cups, dinner rolls, fries, and ice packs. (I get headaches a lot and when I do I need an ice pack to sleep. So I have 3 in here to rotate)

My panty drawer. Just for you, Chicken. Please don't laugh. So turn your head to the right because blogger refuses to cooperate. Bras are the lower left corner. I own 4 (3 in the drawer, one on me). The black thing in the back is all lingerie/nightgowns folded nicely. Thongs are like in the middle since I can't figure out a nice way to fold those. All other underwear is folded then rolled.

My socks. OK, so I'm actually embarrassed by my sock drawer. Because I'm color coded. Yes, I'm serious. Black/gray/blue in the back next to holiday socks. The middle row is various shades of brown, then my gray/white socks. Way at the bottom are my tights, panty hose, etc.

My closet. Top row is my stuff, bottom row is Matt's. But don't let that fool you- he has an entire dresser full of shit. And not to mention AT LEAST 50 pairs of jeans. The clear box are Matt's summer stuff and then it has a file box full of office supplies, my Twilight game I can't play because Matt refuses, one of my cd cases (it holds 2,000 and won't zip anymore), throw pillows, exercise shoes. And the hamper Matt won't use.

This is to the left of the closet. We have a bit of a nook in here. This is where I have dresses hanging, purses, scarves, gift wrap for every occassion except Christmas (that has it's own container in the garage three times the size of this one), more office supplies, a box of the kids' artwork.

Sam, you wanted to see under my bed. I was worried because I never clean under here. But all that is there is one box of my shoes.

See? Just some of my shoes.

My book case by my bed which is guarded by my Robert. I need a bigger book case obviously. My beloved Fufy is on top. She was my first love. She smells and looks like shit, but I've had her forever. She hangs out with my Led Zeppelin box set and next to a frame my friend Lisa gave me for my bridal shower. Um, you may notice I have every Sookie Stackhouse book as well as every Linda Howard book. *sigh* I love me some Linda Howard. It's because of her I secretly would love to be sexing a Black Ops agent who's madly in love with me and willing to give up a career to be with me OR train me to be Black Ops. :)

This drawer is under the book case. Very cool. It holds the scrapbook from my high school years, the Mickey ears Matt and I got on our first vacation together to Disney, and maracas that my grandparents ave me. I'll tell you about those sometime.

SOME of my cd's. These are some of the cd's I still have cases for. I store them in these awesome clear bins from Target. I have one bin in my van full of cd's and I rotate often. But my other cd's are stored in big binders. I thought by throwing out the cases I'd be clever and save room. Now I regret that I did that. Grr.. BUT I have two of those cases. One holds 2000 the other 1500, both are full. I also have another binder that holds 80, full, and then countless more cd's in my car, dining room, computer desk, and some in Olivia's room. We can jam together. I could literally, be a dj, just with what I have. Not including the stuff I have on iTunes. Can you beat that, Mr. O? :)

Things you maybe have learned from this:

• I like clear bins.
• I am ubber organized.
• I like music and books. A lot.
• I need more shoes, purses, and underwear. And bras.
• I need more white socks to even out the colors in the drawer.
• I like even numbers.
• I like Ice Mountain bottled water the best.

Welcome to the world of Sara. I feel with my organizational skills and music selection I'm ready to dominate the world. And we're having meatballs subs this week. Come on over.