Peachy

I've decided that I hate anything that smells like peach. I bought this new peachy smelling lotion...it smelled good in the bottle. But now? Everytime I move, I smell like a Georgia landfill.

That paints a pretty picture.

I don't smell nearly as good as the bottle. I hate you peach lotion.

Other smells I hate include banana anything, rose anything, black licorice and Dr. Pepper.

In other news, in honor of my 29th birthday in August, I'm offering a special over at the Blog Cafe. If you order any design from me (premade or custom) you get the whole design package (installation included) for $29. Good deal, eh? Now stop jumping for joy and go here and shine up your blog. Oh, and she's got some goodies goin too...

I am so very interesting today.

Andy Gibb - (Our Love) Don't Throw It All Away

Where's My Cooth?

I wish I was more girly. I wish I liked to wear pink every day, and could put on a dress without getting the dry heaves. I wish I enjoyed messing with my hair and makeup all the time, and that heels didn't make me fall flat on my face. I don't wish these things every day...but I have my moments, like now. I'm just not very girly.

I wear jeans and a T-shirt pretty much every day of my life...my hair is straight and all one length, so I only have to wash it and brush it every day...makeup is almost a foreign language to me. I wear lip gloss and some mascara, and that happens maybe once a week.

My mother used to always tell me when I was a kid that I had "no cooth"...I still don't know what cooth is, but I spose it has something to do with my saying I've gotta take a leak instead of I've gotta use the restroom....and my ability (with enough Diet Coke) to belch the alphabet forwards and backwards....maybe it's because I have no problem picking a wedgie or adjusting my bra in front of other people, I don't understand the whole idea of being uncomfortable for the benefit of others. Or it could be as simple as me not wanting to be like all those vapid airheads wandering the streets masquerading as "women".

I hate girlie movies...I don't like Cameron Diaz, she reminds me of the Joker from Batman...And aside from hell week, I can't stand chick flicks. Most of the Hollywod guys that girls get the vapors over, don't usually do much for me. For future reference, Brad Pitt looks like a troll. I don't really like to cuddle or be touched more than necessary. I don't like getting hugs and kisses every other second...my girls are the exception to the rule. I'm all about the personal bubble BS.

Perhaps mom was right.

Don't get me wrong, I do have some girly tendencies. I do like to look nice and dress up every once in a while...I enjoy being swept off my feet for my wedding anniversary, I love it when my husband brings me flowers, and yes, if the time is right, I do still tear up over Dirty Dancing...but on the whole, I'm just not very feminine.

Maybe it's just like my mother said...perhaps I lack cooth. Whatever that may be. Or maybe I just have no class. I dunno...but I like me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take a leak.

Chris Rea - I Can Hear Your Heartbeat

Good Morning!

I'm in a good mood today. I don't even feel like being cranky! Shocking I know, since I thought yesterday was the beginning of hell week. Turns out I was just bitchy. WOO! I've got so much to do today, and I'm not even pouting about it. Grocery shopping, trip to the gas station, finish painting my bathroom, dishes, laundry, dinner to make, cleaning out my car, etc etc etc. I'm even kind of looking forward to it. I may even do something selfish and all about me later as a thank-you to me for being in such a great mood...good movie, hot bath, pink toe nails...

Ok, now I'm too perky.

Earth, Wind & Fire - Boogie Wonderland

Raging Bull....crap

I have it bad. It's official. Raging PMS has reared it's ugly head, and good god damn it's a doozy. Things that normally don't bother me today, are eating at me. I'm taking everything anybody says the wrong way, I'm getting all pissy with my kids over the smallest things, and I really want to watch Terms of Endearment, but I think people would laugh at me and that would just make me even more emotional than I already am.

I don't feel like anything I'm doing is good enough, I can't get through the laundry fast enough, the dishes are piling up and my bedroom looks like a Frathouse had it's way with it. All the designs I make are ugly and this god damn computer can eat a big bowl of dick.

SEE?!

Why can't PMS bring you good feelings? Why is it all about the bad. Dude, we already give birth because of it...can't we at least feel a little better once we've put in our episiotomy dues? Being on the rag should make your skin have that beach-y glow, and your hair supermodel shiny, or at least make you loose a few pounds. Ugh.

I'm done today. Before somebody get's hurt.

Now that my husbands home and can watch the kids for a bit, I'm going to go lock myself in the bedroom and watch Terms of Endearment my brand spankin new Sleepaway Camp trilogy that came from Amazon today.



And I'm doing it in my fat pants.

Led Zepplin - Goin To California

Sex and Willy Wonka

I'm having the strangest dreams lately. Well, I've always had strange dreams...someday I'll tell you about my disembodied whistling Elvis head dream....but that's not this post. THIS post is about my dream from last night. I should says dreams...plural. Cuz I had a couple and as the night wore on they just got more strange.

The first one was about sex. At least I think it was a sexing dream. It was one of those flashing dreams, where you only remember bits and pieces, but I remember Sting was there, and we were in an abandoned warehouse, like in the Demolition Man video, and he kept singing People Are Strange (by the Doors) to me. Oh, and he was naked.

Gimme a minute.

Ok, I'm good now...so my next dream, I was trapped in this elevator of doom with a bunch of Oompa Loompa's from Willy Wonka. Not the new Oompa Loompa's, the old ones from the original movie. Anyway, so we're trapped in this elevator, that goes upways and downways and slantways...up and out all that jazz. Except the elevator was made out of styrofoam. Yeah. So anyway, we were about to head up and out through this metal roof that resembled the Iron Maiden with all the pokey things of death, and I was certain I was a gonner, until the Oompa Loompa's started singing something about the world spinning and flowers and rainbows, one of them kissed my feet and told me that the birds were coming, and then I woke up....

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

Def Leppard - Back In Black

Dear Rihanna,

You suck.

Like, Alot.

They apparently like you whole bunches out here in the sticks, cuz I can't get away from you. Every damn radio station, every other effin minute. Who knew that hicks wanted to stand under your Umbrella.

Please go away. I hear Barbados is very nice this time of year.

With bleeding ears,
Princess Me

P.S.
You spelled your name wrong.

P.S.S.
Beyonce wants her act back.

P.S.S.S.
You smell funny.

Ram Jam - Black Betty

Dirty Little Secret

I have one. And it's a doozy. Ready for this? I am a technophobe. I am. Big time. I'm a web designer who is afraid of technology. I am an enigma. Seriously, I don't have any of these things:

1. Cellphone
2. Ipod (or any MP3 device) - I've never even seen one outside of the packaging in a store.
3. Laptop
4. Blackberry, iPhone, or any of those personal do it all deals

I feel better getting all that out there. I just hate all that crap. And I'm not ashamed of it anymore. There was a time when I would pretend to know all about those things. No more. I don't prefer to have a tech-leash attached to me at all times. I don't WANT people to be able to reach me at any time of the day. I don't NEED to have eleventy million songs at the touch of my finger....and I already have a computer, why would I go spend another eight trillion dollars for a laptop? Sure, it would be nice to not have to sit in the computer chair of death while I type...but really, it's just one more device that would make my head hurt, and cause me to cuss.

So there, it's out.

My name is Mia...and I'm technology impaired.

Now if you'll excuse me my checkbook needs balancing and that abacus aint gonna use itself.

CJ Mac - Gangsta Bitch (shut up)

Why? What? Who? Meh.

Hollyweird has seriously lost it's mother loving mind. Well, it was close before, but dude. Ok so first I posted about the loss of my Sebastian Bach, way back last year sometime...



I weep. I do. Scrog you for doing that to yourself, Baz.

But at least I still had Val.



Holy Fuckballs, Batman. You were Jim Morrison! And, and, and John Holmes! And and and oh the times we shared together, Val. But I will no longer fraternize with you. I will no longer be able to drool over your movies, because from here on out, I will be comparing you to Dom DeLouise, and not The Lizard King.

Iceman has left the building people.

Then there is this shit, which just makes me go, Meh?


Yeah, Carrot Top's on roids dude. Ok, I shouldn't say that...maybe it's all natural. Just like Jennifer Aniston's nose.

Or Star Jones' marriage.

Ok, I'm going away from this box now before some rabid Hollyweird agent named Artie slaps me with a lawsuit.

Cover Girls - We Can't Go Wrong

Then There Was This Morning,

We have new neighbors. They just moved in about a week ago. I hate them. No wait, that's not the right word...Hate. I don't hate them. I just wish that that their genitals would turn carniverous and consume them while they slept. Yes, that's better.

So anyway, the new neighbors got here a week ago and made a bad impression by having 14, yes I counted, very drunk large men standing around their property hootin and hollerin every time I walked outside. Fine, they're moving, said I...and nothing is more conducive to productivity than an assload of Corona. We all know that. So, I forgot and forgave the "OOOH BABY!"s and the "WHY DON'T YOU COME PARTY WITH US, CHICA!"S, and chalked it up to them having pride in their ignorance.

Come day two, when I notice they have a small dog. Well, it's rule numero uno in this neighborhood that if you have a dog you have to have a fence. It's in the contracts you sign to move in here, you can't move in period with a dog without erecting a fence. Don't even get me started on the guy that lives behind me with the PitBull with an attitude and no fencing...that's another post. So anyway, these people have this little dog and as you'll see in the pic, no fence. Top that off with one of her mangy ass, peanut butter faced kids that comes out and beats the poor dog at least once a day (yes, I've already made one complaint about this one)...again I was giving them the benefit of the doubt...they just moved in, they're stressed out, and without the Corona fuel, they might be weak and tired. Here's their house that I took this morning:



Then there was this morning. I wake up, as cheerful as one can when one hears the garbage truck in the hood and snaps awake realizing that she hasn't taken her can to the curb. Run outside and already see a can in my driveway. I open it...diapers? Corona bottles? PEPSI?! Oh hell no. Hells no!!! Not my can...I look around and notice that my can is still in it's rightful place...check the one in my driveway again just to make sure I haven't finally lost my dog gamn mind. Nope...so I am moving the mysterious can down a bit when I notice the neighbor (who shall now only be referred to as Cunt Face) standing around outside with this big dicksucking grin on her face and she says to me in her best broken english...

"I missed the truck! I didn't think you would mind, we're neighbors right?"

I then proceed to give her the biggest WTF look eva...which probably came out with me looking more constipated than confused. WTF CUNTFACE WITH MANGY KIDS?! WTF?! You're diapery, corona'd, PEPSI'd garbage in my driveway? I produce enough garbage, with two kids, and a husband, and the garbage men won't pick up two cans full of garbage...we're allowed one, stupid Cunt Face with Mangy Kids, this is not a yours, mine and ours sitch. This is a mine and don't touch my property again or I'll shove a Corona bottle up your ass side sideway thing...I don't need this shit. I don't think we've even been properly introduced, because obviously the whole "Hi, new neighbor, this is Princess Bitch" would probably have stuck with her long enough for her to think twice about putting her dirty shit in my driveway. Here's some photographic evidence:

Her can which I've moved to now being in front of my mailbox:



My can which is already filled with, oddly enough, my garbage!!!



I'm going to complain today. The new "owner"/property manager of this place is going through a nasty divorce, and boo-hoo to all that and stuff, but dude...look at the shit I have to look at all day. Two run down POS trailers. We work hard to keep our yards and house looking nice. Move those pieces of shit! GAH! And if I can, find me a voodoo prince, preferrably someone with a bone through his nose and a shrunken head on his shoulder to perform some voodoo that he does so well...maybe I can get that whole carniverous genitals thing to come to fruition.

That or I'm just going to have to blog about her, like, ALOT. That'll teach her.

Mini Kiss Army

This was the scene in my front yard a couple of minutes ago:



The youngest child and her friend in the pool singing Kiss.

Freakin priceless.

Fantasy

I do weird shit. I realize this the clearer my head gets. I do things that most people would say defines "crazy", when in reality, I'm finally coming out of the crazy.

Last year: Crazy.
This year: Uncrazy.

You see the difference.

So, this thing I do, that I just realized today, is I tend to fantasize things in my head. So like, take for instance, I'm doing the dishes, putting things in the dishwasher, and in my head I'll imagine I'm this super famous person all decked out in my hottest Stella McCartney/Jimmy Choo combination, waving at all my adoring fans, and doing my very best Lindsay LoWeight side poses. And then in the middle of this little fantasy, something will snap and I'll imagine myself tripping and falling over in my Choo's and impaling myself on something like a giant icecicle, and dying right there in the middle of the kitchen like that chick from Black Christmas.

I would be willing to bet that other people have these weird sort of daydream fantasies, but do other people have the ones where they off themselves at the end. How come my fantasies don't end with, like, Sting proposing, or rainbows and bunnies? With my luck, my bunnies would be rabid and Sting would go all Dune on my ass.

An icecicle? It would be just my luck that hard water would be the death of me.

I'm not doing the dishes anymore.


Cold - Stupid Girl

Alright I give....

So, I wasn't gonna post about what I've been up to for the past few months but I'm getting lots of people wondering, so being that I'm a glutton for punishment, I'll spill it. But you're getting the readers digest version, because again, I don't want to relive or rehash shitty memories when I'm trying to stay all Kathy Lee Positive...minus the sweat shops.

Here's the last year (up until April) in review:

January 2006 to March 2007: Hell. Severe depression. Family problems. Health problems. Money problems. Blah blah blah blah blah...Hell squared. Hate it....I'm forgetting about 2006.

Jump to February when I chopped my finger off and the migraine fiasco. I was in the hospital more than not, and my bills racked up fast. We couldn't afford to live in Portland anymore, and more importantly than money, (cuz we could have worked that out) was my mental state. I wasn't in a good place anymore, and at my age, I was just plain sick of struggling internally and externally. I got to a point where I could barely function anymore, I could barely get out of bed every day, forget about working inside or outside the home, my marriage was suffering, my kids were suffering and I didn't want to deal with it anymore. It's never a good thing when you get to a place where you hate yourself. And I did.

Jump again to the end of March, my mother offered to help us make a new start here in Idaho. We jumped on the chance, packed up everything, left everything comfortable, and jumped into a new life. It took us quite awhile to get on our feet here, but we've managed to buy a house, a new car, and financially we're ok, which I have NEVER been able to say before.

I've said this before on my old blog, but I really feel like we're finally gonna be ok. That life in general isn't always dark. It's so refreshing (for lack of a better word) to finally be able to see things in a lighter way and not always see the bad and negative in everything. Alot of my feeling that way was my own fault, and I own that, and I'm better now. I've hurt people I'm close to, and I've said I'm sorry so many times for my being a general fuck-up for the last four years, and I hope they know that I'm sincere when I say that I do love them all, family, friends...

What I do know is I can't go back. I can't change the person I was, and have been for pretty much the entire time I've been writing a blog. I can't make myself a different person, and just be all "Hey, I was only kidding!"...can't do that. I can't blame things on my evil twin, I can't blame things on the health issues, or even on the wine. That would make it alot easier. Here's the deal, plain and simple:

I was a selfish bitch, who put myself and my self pity above all the things and people (friends and family) who should have been important to me. I took advantage of people I love, and I didn't tell them how much I appreciated them when it was important.

That's what it comes down to. The mental shit I had going on is no longer an excuse and I'm not going to use it as my Bitch Crutch any longer. I'm stronger than that...and now, out of the haze of everything surrounding my life for the past three-ish years, I can see what I need to about myself to make myself better. I might struggle with depression shit for the rest of my life, but it's my decision to let it eat me away into the shell that I was. It's a decision I have to make every day to wake up and see the good, and not the bad. It's my decision...I can have a happy life or I can make the decision to live in a sad hazy place. I've made my decision.

I've spent the past couple of months trying to purge my life of the negative. People that were negative...including members of my family. Don't need it in my life anymore. Friends that hurt me or used me...see ya later. Trying to get over the guilty feelings I have over the hurt and confusion I've caused people that cared about me...that's the hardest thing. Just accepting all the shit I've done, eating my crap sandwich, and dealing with it. Emails are still coming to some of you...but it's me and my guilt that's holding those up. I owe some people some explainations (if only for myself), and that's not always easy, but they're coming.

So there ya go...that's why Zed is gone. Reading through that thing was just nothing but bad memories...negativity and a person I hated. That's why the new one. New me, new blog to match...

And that's all I have to say about that.

Fun With Babies!

I was debating writing some kind of big Woop-Di-Freakin-Do post about what I've been up to for the past couple months, but I decided against it...mainly because alot of it is depressing and rehashing it might involve my sobbing like a baby. If I cry, you'll cry...it'll be anarchy. So instead of focusing on the past, we're focusing on the future. But if you wanna ask me anything feel free...just know I'll probably cry and tell you how much I miss Portland summers, cuz holy fuckballs Idaho is HOT.

Instead we'll make fun of stupid shit as usual...so now for your point and laugh enjoyment...we'll take a look at the stupidest products for babies.

10. The baby toupee.

This is not cute. Dressing your baby up as Donald Trump so you can impress all your rich fuckface friends....it looks like the kid is doing exactly what I would do if someone put that ferritt on my head. Take a shit.

9. Bubba Teeth

Again...not cute. Hahahaha and all that. Even the babies from Arkansas are grimacing at this one. Afterall, nobody wants to look like Uncle Slim. It seems like you're setting the child up for failure with these things. The poor kid will be halfway through grade school, making lots of friends, being a great student and then some shithead will bring out the baby book at Christmas and shout for everyone to "Come see Little Jimmy with this Bubba Teef! He looks just like Uncle Slim!" Everyone will look, laugh, and start calling the child Slim Jim, which will spur the childs obsession with Cockfights, monster truck racing and Irocs....and another one bites the dust.

8. The Moffii Cradle

Fifty bucks says this company is out of business in a year. What in the hell is that thing?! I wouldn't have put my kid in something like that. It looks like something out of the movie Alien.

7. Men breastfeeding devices.

Ew. Stop it. Don't do this. I'm sure it's hard enough being a baby and learning the world for the first time without putting a big fake boob on daddy. There are lots of other ways for Dad and Baby to bond. Have pops take junior fishing, or read the kid Playboy....like my dad did. I turned out fine. Shut up.

6. The baby leash

These things ALWAYS piss me off. Dude. If you have such a hard time keeping an eye on your kid that you need to put a leash on him, perhaps you aren't the prime candidate for reproduction? Just my opinion.

5. Baby subliminal programming

Perfect for creating the next generation of Stepford babies. Of course these things would kick ass if we ever decide that we want to create a new Baby Borg.

4. The baby bucket

This baby looks scared to death...He probably knows after his "bath", mommy's gonna put him back in the "drawer" for his nap. Maybe it's just me, but I'm thinking that suspending a baby by their head while you jam your hands down there to "wash" the baby is not your best option...what the fuck? Babies are slippery little suckers, but I haven't lost one yet. This thing is just ridiculous. Put a towel in the tub like normal people...the kid isn't going anywhere.

3. The baby vaccuum

This is almost a good idea. The baby can ride on the vaccuum while you push it...or you can just use it by yourself. I'm all for the child labor..but I keep getting this impression of the kid sucking up small animals or having the damn machine go from suck to blow and whisking the child off to Namibia.

2. The thud guard

Come the fuck on. Even the child understands the repercussions of this helmet. Good lord. The poor thing is going to grow up thinking she's "special". And not in the "your a savant" kind of way...in the Corky from Life Goes On kind of way.

1. Baby bathroom holder

Whose brainchild is this contraption. Yeah! Let's invent something that hangs your child on the back of a disgustingly dirty bathroom stall door! Great idea! Ugh...if you are so concerned for your childs safety that you hang him on the back of a public restroom stall, this probably isn't the best product to use. I've seen what people do on those doors, and aint no way I'd put my kid in contact with one on purpose.

I lied...I have 11

1.2. The Zaky Pillow

This thing would give ME nightmares. The poor kid is gonna grow up with images of disembodied hands coming for him in his sleep. This has to be an invention by Wes Craven.

Well, that was fun. I'm off to enjoy my Mama Cass Biography I Tivo'd last night.

Kenny Loggins - Conviction Of The Heart

Back On The Chain Gang

I really just wanted to say that.

Moving on, yes, I'm back. Kinda. I'm not forwarding my old blog(s) to this new one, for my own reasons. I want a fresh start on my blog like I've got in my "real" life. Here's an update:

1. Moved to Idaho from Portland in April. Hated it at first, now it's growing on me.
2. Bought a new car.
3. Bought a new HOUSE. GO US!
4. Been moving, moving, painting, moving, rearranging stuff, decorating, etc etc...but dude it's OUR HOUSE!
5. Having an awesome summer with my girls, the man, and my mother.
6. That was semi-sarcastic.
7. I like making lists.
8. I'm stopping now.
9. Really.
10. Real posts start up again lata.
11. OH! I moved all my newer posts from Zed the other blog. There are no comments here. I know that already.

I missed you. I did. I feel all warm and fuzzy like one of the Heathers.

Irene Cara - Breakdance