Why Do Crazy People Continue To Procreate?

My patient today was having her seventh (7th) child and informed me repeatedly that she needed an epidural before her contractions got too bad because, "I don't handle pain well." Is this the first time this has occurred to you? Cuz I have a solution: keep your legs closed and tell him to GET OFF YOU! You'll find you will have a relatively pain free existence then.

107 today and I've decided I'm too old to be this crabby. There is a central air conditioning installation evaluation in my future. I don't care if the heat wave is over before it happens; I'm toast.

Hot.

It's hot. Extremely hot for us delicate little temperate zone flowers who thrive at 75 degrees, get tense at 80 and homicidal at 90. Yesterday it was 101 at 5 PM. 5 in the freakin' PM! What did we do? I'll sacrifice a calf if it will relieve the unrelenting heat. Especially since my house was built with "energy saving" construction which means it soaks up the heat all day (no window coverings downstairs after 7 years...okay so some of this is my fault) and has such good insulation it just holds it to its bosom like a addict with her crack pipe. This all serves to make my already delicate temper downright fragile. The kids can't even BREATHE right. The low for last night was 75 degrees at midnight. Oooookaaaay. Fab. I'm just gonna stick ice in my bra and down my pants until this blows over. When we built the house the contractor asked if I wanted to add an air conditioner. I scoffed, "For what purpose? It's hot enough to use for about 3 days." And every summer I kick myself and say, "Jeez, maybe I should just get one installed." And then the three days pass and I'm relieved I didn't spend the money. Until the next summer. And here we are actually having a summer that lasts more than a week and I'm in that same boat. As soon as I decide to pull the trigger, I just know it will start raining and I will have bought an A/C unit at peak season and will be sqealin' from the feelin' for months to come. *sigh* I shouldn't make impulse purchases when I'm mentally ill. And this heat makes me committable. I can't even sleep naked because I have children who have a tendency to worm their way into my bed at all hours. Like at 0400 this morning: SoS crawls next to me and puts his arms and legs over me Me: "WHAT are you doing?" He: "I want to be with you." Me: "You need to go back to your bed." SoS: "But I love you." Me: "I love you too, but you have to get away from me; it's too hot!" Yeah, that won't scar his tender little psyche.

So, The Worst Pirate Song has been in heavy rotation on the iPod in the ol' Planet Killer and I've had to remind SoS that just because the song says "where the hell's your gun?" does not mean it's okay for him to bandy the phrase about at random. And here's another fine song from Ceann that you might enjoy:


I plan on spending tomorrow counting how many tree hugging, Prius lovers flip me off for driving the Planet Killer and causing our own little version of global warming. Excuse me, climate change. I'd hate to be more un-PC than I am already.

What makes this funny to me is she is wearing a scary ass clown mask. Of course, all clowns are scary ass clowns. And I revel in the injury of a scary ass clown.

Poll For Today

Which is more awkward? Your 10 year old son finding your BOB, or your mother nearly finding your book, The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio, in the floor board of your car because you forgot it there after you found a better gift for your friend for her bachelorette party so you didn't have to give her your copy. 42 years old and still hiding things from Mom. Go me.

Snicker for the Day

Johnny Virgil (the author of the J.C. Penney's catalogue post that went viral and the thief never gave him credit for) over at 15 Minute Lunch has been busy lately and for his most recent post listed all the Google searches that resulted in people arbitrarily dropping by his blog. And then he comments on them. The searches themselves are far more entertaining then the search words that sucker unsuspecting innocents into this black hole of time wasting, and he is far wittier than I in commenting upon the aforementioned searches. I think they're funny anyway, which may just show how sick and twisted I really am. To which any of you three, who actually come here on purpose, can attest after seeing my recent Facebook links. I won't apologize; I am as God made me. With a little help from all the moonshine I quaffed in high school. So go see Johnny' latest and have a good snicker.

I picked up the boys from the parents today and this conversation ensued:

FB: "Look, Mom, Grandpa gave me a pocket knife and he said when I'm older I can have his big Buck knife too."

Me: "Awesome. Did you ask about the shotgun?"

Dad: "Well, your brother has it...do you want it?"

Me: "Hell, yes."


My arsenal might be getting a head start. Now I need a compound bow, a mace and a Glock. Okay, just the Glock. I got the industrial strength pepper spray covered and I will GAS a mugger's ass.

My Bro and the Boys

I'm in the mood to do something of EPIC PROPORTIONS! I just can't decide if I want it to be epically awesome or epically stupid. Although with me, one usually evolves into the other. I need a new life. Or something just needs to HAPPEN with this one. Obviously, it's time for me to be sedated until whatever really dumb idea I can feel coming on passes. This is probably an after effect of being forced to leave the bachelorette party early last night because I had to work today. But, I had a jail inmate in triage so I win! I lost extra points because she wasn't in leg shackles and no one pulled a gun during her cervical exam. Dammit.

I spent my day at WEBELOS camp with FB. I'm not a "joiner" per se. If I could get away with turning FB loose with his scouting book...well, he wouldn't get badge one, but I'd be much happier. Today happened to be the hottest day I've experienced in quite some time. Which makes spending a day with eight 10 year old boys like spending a day in the seventh ring of hell. First the only thing worse than a 10 year old boy is a 12 year old boy. They are crazy, hyper and stinky. And my own personal 10 year old is hitting the "tweens" harder than anyone in history. He is 5 feet tall, 130 pounds, and has more mood swings than Sybil has personalities. I mean DAY-UM. One minute he's my happy go lucky little guy, the next he's this sulking, hulking mass of discontent and swirling hormones. I'm either going to survive this through sheer willpower, or I'm going to take him out to the woods and let him be raised by wolves. Second, this day camp takes place in the only treeless spot in the Pacific Northwest. Add a daytime temperature in the 90s (wtf? this is the PacNW people! It's against the law to get that hot here!!!) and it was like traversing Mauna Loa's lava flow. In flip-flops. The honey bucket was an experience in itself; if you managed to complete your duties without your cell phone falling into the swill, you might get light headed from the smell and the fact that the inside of this sucker felt like you were in Cool Hand Luke and just got a night in the box. I spent all day watching activities, riding herd on a passel of hormones, forcing fluids onto pre-teens, and walking around with a soaked shirt and a damp crotch...and not in a good way. The boys got some relief from a sprinkler the camp leader put out as well as standing in the spray of the fire hose from the department next door to this piece of hell on earth. Unfortunately, FB was wearing cut-off jeans and the effect of a day of damp denim (obstacle course anyone?) chafed to the point where he walked as if he had the largest case of jock itch known to man. Live and learn I guess.

The Nuge Still Rocks.

I still love Ted even as he shakes his head in disappointment after kicking my ass on "Stranglehold" in Guitar Hero. DAMN YOU '70s 45 MINUTE LONG BRIDGE WITH COMPLEX TRANSITIONS!!

Are. You. Effing. Kidding. Me.

You can serve your country, even fight, be wounded, and maybe even give your life. But don't you dare light 'em if you've got 'em. In fact, don't even have 'em. Okay, first, the government really needs to stay out of people's lives. It's their choice if they want to smoke....back the hell off. Second, are we seriously going to tell someone who spends hours being shot at/mortared that he/she can't light up afterward?

Best Song of the Weekend

Oooooookaaaaaayyyyy......

Weekend Ready

Here's a little blast from the past to get you ready for the weekend. Oh, the fun we had on Saturdays watching H.R. Pufnstuf. Here's hoping you have a fun weekend, and that it does not involve as much acid as Sid and Marty Kroft obviously had stashed in their pockets.

Possibly 1961

Went to see Michael the Extremely Gay Hairdresser today..great color; not sure about the way he styled it. I like it, but I think it may make me look like an astronauts wife.

Not so much from this angle. But this one's a little dicey

(Really, I'm not still talking; I have an Atomic Fireball in my mouth) And then this one might clinch the deal

So, do I try reproduce the style or wave bye-bye to Major Nelson and do something else? I can't tell.

As a change of pace here are FB and SoS in the world's most coldest lake, Idaho sector, with a cuz.

The Last Week

The week in a nutshell:

Tuesday: Doctor's appointment where he told me no more caffeine after 12 noon (I tried to set him ablaze with my eyes), I needed a sleep study (wired for messages from deep space, no fan, being watched while I sleep, why don't you just assign a stranger to stand next to the bed and try to randomly touch me so I can be world class uncomfortable?) and prescribed a medication to help me sleep that put me into a coma for 9 hours and turned me into double plus undead bitch from hell for the first 6 days.

Wednesday: Went to the Drive-In (yes we still have several here; this one active since 1948), got the kiddos settled and watched Transformers 2 (a little disappointing, to tell the truth), contemplated starting the car halfway through(naaaaahhhhhhh!), and suffered a dead battery. My choice for a jump on the left were the people with the Kitsap county body work on their fender (read: duct tape) yelling profanities at their children because someone "put the fucking carseat in the goddamn trunk! Why don't you move your ass?" Charming. Let's look to the right: sweet lady willing to give me a jump if I have cables (I do). I spent some time jumping my battery, not because I don't know how (I've had to employ jumper cables more times than I care to count) but because the only light I had was a hand crank LED light given to me by Multiscare for Nurse's Week one year, that the sweet Good Samaritan couldn't figure out how to crank and then had to be asked EVERY TIME to hold it so I could see where the battery was. (Remember, the planet killer requires me to use a step ladder to wash the hood....this was a challenge for me.)

Thursday: Got up late, took the dog to the kennel, finally decided to pack, went to the store for sustenance, and headed off to the wilds of Idaho. 8 hours in the car and still 2 hours away from my destination (missed the cutoff road in Oregon cuz I was a yellin' at the offspring. See above: double plus undead bitch from hell) stopped at our usual motel (rooms to be had: Yay!) and headed to the store (forgot toothbrushes and needed chocolate: Boo!)

Friday: Loaded everyone in the car and finished the drive to McCall. Most of the family on the golf course, couldn't officially check into the yurt(in a University of Idaho science camp where no alcohol was allowed outside of the sleeping areas...who decided this was a good place for my family? And University alcohol rules? what university did you go to? In North Carolina there are bars ON CAMPUS!) until 3, so dumped our stuff in the yurt anyway and dressed for some swimming. Here is where I found out that this lake that I used to swim in all summer long, is still as cold as it ever was (had ice until last month) but that I am no longer young enough to be unaffected by it. DAY-UM it was COLD! Stood that crap as long as I could before hauling screaming kids (they didn't mind the cold) back to the yurtage to get dressed and head over to the gathering place to meet my crazy ass family.
Slept in a camp bed that was so uncomfortable I literally had a a dream where I was being crushed by a dump truck.

Saturday: spent realizing how nuts my family truly is, eating, and being appalled by my cousin's wife's tramp stamp/thong on constant display. Watched the kids play water slide baseball (extremely awesome), went back to the lake to freeze my bahooky off, ate some more, and watched the city fireworks. (No fireworks allowed in the park...again who decided on this place for my alcohol swilling, pyromaniac family?) Back to the torture rack for another night of horror.

Sunday: Load everything back up in the Planet Killer, eat AGAIN, say my toodles and never got below 80 on my way home. Cops, schmops, I was looking to avoid the mass of traffic I knew was in my future on Hwy 18 and I5. Actually wasn't bad except for the mass of humanity that wouldn't get out of the passing lane. I started looking like I was skiing the Giant Slalom on the way down the pass. Tahoes really aren't made to slipstream.

Monday: picked up the dog and did laundry. And laundry. Did I mention laundry? My life rocks.

Tuesday: the sleep study. Which was about as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Nineteen electrodes on my head, six on my face,two on my neck, two on each leg, two for EKG, a nasal cannula (without any supplemental O2 but with a monitor for airflow), and a pulse oximiter, all with accompanying wires. Okay, get comfy now and pleasant dreams.

Here I sit on Wednesday, last day of vacation before going back to work, blogging my little heart out with no concern at all for the amount of crap that could/should be done around here.