Things That Make You Go Hmmmm....

Sorry I've been MIA lately. I've been super busy with hospital shit. I switched hospitals and had to go through computer training and orientation. Both of which lasted and entire fucking day. And what does that mean? It means I had to take TWO days of precious vacation to attend these.

This will be short post because, as you can imagine, I have a lot of work to catch up on today.

Anyhoo, so I pull into the parking lot of the training building at 7am yesterday. I was groggy and hadn't had coffee yet, so I had to look at these signs several times. First I saw this sign laying on the ground, kind of propped up against the back of the shopping center:



Then I look up and to the right and this sign is hanging on the back of the shopping center:



Does anyone else find the humor in this? Did the barber shop thing just not work out? Did they think taking care of old and mentally impaired people would be easier? Do they cut their hair too? I have so many questions.

In Local News....

Local News Story of the Day **

All I have to say is, if I'm going out in a blaze of glory, it won't be with a bow and arrow. Stiletto, maybe, but not a bow and arrow.

** A pretty solid reason why you shouldn't fuck with anyone in Texas...most of us carry guns.

Reprimanded by a Pre-School Teacher

So the other morning when I drop BB off at preschool, the teacher pulls me aside and says "I'm a little worried about BB's language." And being the proud mom that I am I'm thinking that his language skills have so far exceeded that of his classmates that they want to go ahead and send him to middle school. Then I realized that would be a ridiculous idea because he is only three and probably couldn't reach the lockers....or defend himself from wedgies. Ahem.

She continues despite the glazed over look on my face, "BB has been using the 'S' word a lot." I said, "um, excuse me? The 'S' word?" Her voice in almost a whisper now, "Yes, he has been using it a lot towards his classmates and we are a bit concerned about it." Knowing damn good and well that BD and I do NOT cuss in front of BB (as shocking as that may seem to you), I am a little more than off put by her accusation. I'm sure she could tell that by the look on my face.

"You see, Mrs. SPM, we have heard him call the other children....stupid...on three separate occasions this week alone." What? Stupid? She has made me 10 minutes late for work so we could discuss at length my three year old saying stupid? Psh! Call me when he starts taking bets on the playground and smoking cigars lady, I don't have time for this non-sense!

It's an Addiction, Sir!!

I smoke. You all know that. It's a gross habit that is almost impossible to quit. Not only that but I have the willpower of Amy Winehouse around crack, so quitting has never been particularly easy for me. BFF smokes too. This makes it even more difficult to quit. Bottom line, I know it's a gross habit, I know it's offensive, and I sure as fuck know it's bad for me. What I don't know is why some self-righteous people feel it is their duty to inform me of everything I just listed.

This wasn't the first time it happened, and I'm certain it won't be the last, but yesterday, BFF and I were outside *gasp* smoking here at work. We were in deep conversation when an old man walks by and slows down when he sees us. "You know if you have to hide in a corner to smoke that it's bad for you!" Astounded, we both turn our heads to him, trying to process what he just said. Without even thinking I shouted, "OMG I had NO IDEA!" BFF stood there still in shock, then a few seconds later the old man said, "You know, I never smoked because my momma wouldn't let me." (PS - I don't think you should still say 'momma' when you're 80.)


BFF's eyes got really wide, then she raised her cigarette, shook it at him and said "IT'S AN ADDICTION, SIR!" I'm sure she added the sir at the end because we're southern and have manners and shit, unlike this asshole. We both walked back to our respective offices, still fuming over what just happened. Then the instant messages started:

Me - "Did that dude just insult our mothers?"

BFF - "That's what I got from it."

Me - "So he was pretty much saying we weren't raised right?!"

BFF - "Well, we weren't raised right...but who the hell is he to judge?!"

Me - "Yeah, smoking is really the least of our problems that resulted from the way we were raised."

Is it just me or was this guy totally out of line? I mean, we weren't smoking near him. We were in the smoking section for pete's sake! And who the fuck is he to judge? I wouldn't go up to an obese person at a restaurant and say, "Do you really need that fried chicken, because you know it's bad for you." Because what aforementioned obese person shoves in their pie hole is really none of my business.

Worst.Morning.Ever.

I am so, so tired right now. It all started around 1am this morning. Baby boy started rolling around and whining a little bit. The whining got progressively louder and more obnoxious. (Yes he sleeps with us, don't judge!) Then the whining turned into full out cries and I thought I should probably stop pretending to sleep and see what is wrong with him. He kept saying that his legs were hurting. Ahh, we've been down this road before. Growing pains.

So I hold him for a little bit and tell him I'll be right back. I look at BD on the way out the room and say, "I know you're not asleep asshole." I take the firt step down the stairs and fall. Right on my tailbone. I only slid down to the first landing so I guess that's the silver lining. I could have rode my ass all the way to the tiled foyer. I finally make it to the kitchen, cursing the day we decided to buy a two story house. I grab two baby tylenol and a sippy with some water and head back upstairs.

I crawl back in bed next to baby boy and give him his medicine and sippy cup. The dog starts crying. For the love of pete! I guess the damn dog needs to go to the bathroom now. At 1:30 in the fucking morning. So I trek my ass downstairs again to let the damn dog out. I did not fall this time. I crawled back into bed and baby boy said "I need to go potty." So I get out of the mf'n bed again and pick him up and bring him to the bathroom. "I don't really need to go anymore." OMG, I almost lost my shit. I put him back in bed. "I don't need to go potty because I already teed in my pants!!" Then he hit me directly on the shin with his sippy cup. I have a lovely blue knot on my leg to show for that.

Oh, but that's not all my friends. I finally woke up after hitting snooze 15 times and hopped in the shower. OF COURSE all the hot water was gone, why wouldn't it be? I probably am developing pneumonia as we speak. So I get dressed and start drying my hair, feeling completely defeated at this point and thinking I should have probably stayed in bed when, the mother fucking dog pukes on my foot. ON MY FOOT!

I am tired, my ass hurts, my shin hurts, and I'm wearing mismatched socks. I seriously feel sorry for the next person that crosses me. And like a good little blogger, I took a picture this morning to document the mood that pretty much consumed all three of us, seen here, on Baby Boy's face...

It's a Bag Meme!

I was tagged by super awesome Matter of Fact Mommy (who secretly wishes she lived in Texas, but that's neither here nor there)...

Meme Rules:

1) Post a picture of whatever bag you are carrying as of late. No, you cannot go up to your closet and pull out that cute little purse you used back before you had kids. I want to know what you carried today (or the last time you left the house).

2) I want to know how much it cost:) And this is not to judge, because I’m honestly telling you I was ready to put down some cash; I just got lucky. This is for entertainment purposes only. So spill it. And if there is a story to go along with how you obtained it, I’d love to hear it.

3) Tag some chicks. And link back to this post so people know why the heck you’re showing everyone your diaper bag/non-diaper bag.

Ok, so before I post a picture of the bag I am currently carrying, I would like to explain something. I am not into fashion. Not even a wee little bit. I haven't bought a pair of shoes in over a year, and I've NEVER bought myself a purse. Ever. My mother in law is the complete opposite of me. She is a fashionista that dresses like a hundred times better than me and she is 55 years old. (Sidenote: she totally has the money to dress nice and I don't.) It would be a little embarrassing if I cared. So every Christmas she buys me a new bag. It is either Dooney & Bourke, or my favorite, Coach. Don't hate.

This year, it was a coach hobo shoulder bag:
I love this bag. It is big enough to fit a spare change of clothes in for BB, a spare pull up, a sippy cup, and several monster trucks, not to mention the everyday crap I carry. Here's a list of what's in it now:

Wallet
Checkbook
Camera
Phone
Antibacterial Lotion
Smokes
Nicorette
A prescription for Chantix (kind of ironic isn't it?)
Nasonex for my allergies
A gift certificate for a 1 hour massage (I am sooo using that this week)
A gc for James Avery Jewelers (I'm just too lazy to go to the mall to use it)
Fake Gucci sunglasses (That's what rocks about Houston, you can find fake anything)
Burt's bees lip balm
3 tubes of lip gloss (which is weird because I never wear lip gloss)
A gc to Outback Steakhouse (Like we can ever go to a restaurant that doesn't feature a dancing rodent)
Several unfinished care plans for school

I'm tagging:

Everybody's Working for the Weekend
It's Not Me, It's You (don't get busted this time!)
Erin Jeannine at Crazy Parrot Lady
and Mary

Random Conversations

So we were driving home on Saturday from dropping BB off with my gma. We meet her halfway in a podunk little town that is mostly comprised of cow pastures and an occassional house. This is the conversation that took place between BD and I:

SPM - "wow, look at all that land!"

BD - "It'd be fun to take a four wheeler out there."

SPM - "yeah, until you hit a pot-hole and fly off and break your neck and leave me a widow and your son fatherless."

BD - "How would a pasture have a pot-hole?"

SPM - "I don't know, the cows probably dig them."

BD - "I don't think cows dig."

SPM - "Yes they do, that's why they're always huddled in groups. Stupid."

BD - "So when I see a group of cows they are probably up to no good?"

SPM - "Exactly."

**Passing a huddling of cows at that exact moment**

BD - "It looks like they were just eating to me."

SPM - "That's what they want you to think."

Seeing that reason was going to get him nowhere in this conversation, BD changed the subject.