**caution to male readers...I'll apologize before hand**

About once a year I'll have an "Oh Shit" moment, and I'll spend an entire day with my calendar, calling every doctor that I know. Primary Care, Dentist and the dreaded OB. You would think it wouldn't be that difficult of a task, however the lovely people that my husband works for, decide to change our health insurance EVERY DAMN YEAR, so I have to find new doctors.

So, I had my "oh shit" moment a couple of weeks ago, and over the course of the next two weeks will visit all of them. The interesting thing about THIS "oh shit" moment is that I haven't had one in about...oh I don't know...three years!

That's right ladies and gentlemen - I haven't had my hoo-hoo checked in over three years. Or my blood drawn. Or my teeth checked. That's not to say I haven't seen over a hundred doctors in the last three years - it's just never been for me. (save the yearly Urgent Care visit for bronchitis).

I would love to say it's because I'm busy. I would love to say that it's because I'm really just THAT healthy, that I don't need to go. But the truth is - I just don't wanna. Which is really stupid. Especially in my family. My family is riddled with coochie issues.

Believe me when I say that I would rather have a tooth pulled than get my plumbing checked.

I really thought that after HAVING A CHILD and the having the entire 2nd floor of the hospital see me butt ass naked would change my 'prudeness' over seeing the OB, but alas, it has not.

I actually spent a good portion of the day searching for an OB that used actual GOWNS instead of those mortifying paper jackets! That's my criteria when choosing a doctor people - what ensemble I get to wear when I'm there. I didn't find one. What is that about? Are these people too lazy to do laundry - it's just easier to throw away the paper jackets? And let me assure you - One size does NOT fit all.

I know it's more of an underlying fear that something WILL be wrong. And then I'll have to go back. And get shit scraped out, again. And then get shit frozen, again. And then test it, again. It's just such a pain in the ass.

Regardless of my feelings, I will go. On the 12th. At 2:30 pm. Interestly enough, my last Laser Hair removal appointment is earlier that day.

It'll be the day of the vagina.


Devil In The Kitchen Stumble Upon Digg It! Add to Delicious Add to Technorati


After a somewhat mentally taxing day, and after the child is asleep, we settle down to watch the tivo'd Season Finale of The Next Food Network Star.

Me: I really don't want her to win.
Him: I already know who wins. Since we tivo'd it, I saw a commercial already for the new show.
Me: That sucks. Don't tell me.
Him: Ok.
Me: I think it's safe to say that those two won't win.
Him: How can you tell that?
Me: Well, because they don't have eyeballs.
Him: They don't have eyeballs.
Me: Well yea - Look. There! When they smile - their eyes turn into little slits. They have no more eye balls. They are, I don't know, eyeball-less.
Him: Eyeball-less.
Me: Yea. Like the devil.
Him: The devil? The devil has no eyeballs?
Me: Well...I'm sure he HAS eyeballs. But I would imagine that when he smiles his evil smile - they turn into slits. You know, since he's evil.
Him: So, because Lisa and Adam are, eyeball-less, they are evil?
Me: Yes, I suppose so. And the Food Network already has enough evil people working there.
Him: Interesting. Who else is evil?
Me: Well, that Giradia lady for sure.
Him: She's evil.
Me: She has to be. She's unreasonably attractive.
Him: {cough} Unreasonably?
Me: Right. So, the last thing that they need are two more evil no cornea chefs. Right?
Him: Yes dear.
Me: Ooooh. Chicken on a beer can. Cool.

My husband and I are avid readers, however our taste in books couldn't be further from each other, save maybe the Harry Potter series. Regardless, our house is littered with paperbacks...mine are the ones that look as though they've gone through the dish washer a couple of times. Mine are also the romance novels - with a few Clive Cussler thrown in so I won't look like a total sap.

My favorite authors are Nora Roberts, Judith McNaught and Jude Deveraux, just to name a few. I recently just finished Jude's latest book, 'Return To Summerhouse'. I enjoyed it, as I do much of her work, and was finished with it within about three days. Without giving too much of the story away, I will say there was an interesting 'time travel' twist to the story, and the main characters were given the opportunity to go back in time - to any time - for only three weeks, thus giving them a chance to change their future.

Now - follow the segue way.

Interestingly enough, the last couple of weeks have brought quite a few 'blasts from the past'. As a matter of fact, I spent a good portion of last Saturday nights 'kegger' with my sisters ex-husband. A girlfriend of mine sent me an email the other day that she had run into my ex-husband (yea, I haven't told you guys that yet) ... I didn't even know he was living in the state.

So, that got me thinking about this book.

If someone gave my sister the chance to go back and re-live three weeks of her life, would she still have married him? If someone gave ME the opportunity to go back, would I have made the same choices?

What if you could go back and change your life? Would you do it?

Honestly, I don't think I would. As many mistakes as I've made in my life (and there have been a few whoopers) I would be afraid that by 'erasing' those mistakes, I wouldn't have what I have now. What if the path of mistakes that I took led me to where I am now, and by changing that, I wouldn't have my husband or my daughter. Certainly not a risk I would take.

Anyway, I realize a bit over the top, but it's been an interesting week.

So, what about you? Would you go back? And if so, what would you change?


Mistaken Identity Stumble Upon Digg It! Add to Delicious Add to Technorati


Bath time is usually the best time to get information out of my daughter. She's contained in one spot and has to get past me - wet and naked - to escape. Bath time is where I learned she has two new best friends that she 'misses forever', named Charlotte and Michael. It's also where I learned that apparently Santa Claus will be joining us on our beach trip in August.

Last night was no different - I learned that the President of the United States is George Bizet.

Personally, I don't see the similarities.

I have to give her props though for actually retaining some information out of the cartoon that shall not be named.

In other news, that stupid vulture was back at my office this morning when I got here. I'm starting to believe that he's trying to tell me something. It can't be a good sign when vultures are circling my real estate office. I think I should name him. Any ideas?

My husband and I were able to drop the kid off at my Mom's on Saturday night for a few hours. A friend of ours was having a kegger (I'm really not kidding) and we went to go check out the scene. Having a babysitter is sometimes a good thing when it comes to parties. You only have a few hours - so you get out before things really start to get ugly. Right as we were leaving the beer pong table came out - and there were a couple people with a beer bong. And even though I wasn't half as drunk as most of the people there - I still managed to fall UP the stairs and kiss a woman on the mouth.

Both completely by accident, I assure you.

Yet another fantastic little tidbit about what a dynamite mother I am.

Over the last couple of weeks I've been transferring paper work from her old school to her new school, and filling out the additional 130 forms needed. In addition, I was informed that they would need a copy of her birth certificate.

No problem, right?

Yea, well, apparently I don't HAVE a birth certificate for her. I have this official looking letter from the hospital, signed by the nurse that I'm still convinced was trying to kill me. It even has a raised stamp and everything.

I've been informed that even though Nurse Ratchet and an official looking seal from the hospital is nice, they actually need the real thing.

Off to the OFFICE OF VITAL STATISTICS (.com)! You can even order it on line. Technology is great I say! I'll even pay the extra $20 to have it here in 2 weeks, as opposed to 6. Just simply fill out these forms - and they'll send me a piece of paper that proves that the small blond running around my house isn't a hallucination.

From the Office of Vital Statistics
We realize that the 2 weeks past your due date, 17 hours of labor and large scar on your private area is proof to YOU that you gave birth to this child, however, to ensure that you are who you SAY you are, please answer the following questions:

Question #1: Which of the following six phone numbers have you NEVER had.
Question #2: Which of the following six address' have you NEVER had.
Question #3: Which of the following cities have you lived in.
Question #4: In which state was your Mothers social security number issued in.
Question #5: One day Joe went to the horse races. Instead of counting the number of humans and horses, he counted 74 heads and 196 legs. How many human and horses are there?

Needless to say, I failed in qualifying that I am who I say I am. Considering that I've had about 4 apartments, and 4 different homes since the age of 20 - and probably about 15 different phone numbers, AND I was pretty much drunk between the ages of 21 to 27...

Hell, I don't even know what my home number is right now.

It will be interesting to see who's birth certificate shows up at my house in 2 to 4 weeks. I may need to change her name.


Mind Drippings Stumble Upon Digg It! Add to Delicious Add to Technorati


I really don't enough to write a whole post - or rather have so many small things running around my head that I can't compose ONE post about ONE thing. So, here are just a few of the things that I've had bouncing around.

My daughter loves Blues Clues....one of her favorite episodes is when Steve goes to college. She'll walk around the house and inform me that she's going to college...tomorrow. Yesterday in the car we had this small chat:

Her: Mama, I'm going to go to college.
Me: I certainly hope so.
Her: When I go to college I'm going to be a Mama
Me: Over my dead body
Her: Can I go to College and be a Daddy?
Me: You'll need to get a job pretty soon - Daddy and I can't afford college and surgery
Her: Mama is so silly


The verdict is in....The thing growing in my backyard is, in fact, a big ass mutant hibiscus.


Our Cicada Killing Wasps are back. While sitting on the patio the other night enjoying the summer air - and these horrid things were dive bombing my head - in a moment of panic I told my husband that I would give him $20 dollars if he would JUST KILL THE DAMN THING.

Always ready to protect his wife and child (and the idea of my money in his pocket) away he went with the broom.

His total is now somewhere around 6 of them (they don't die easily). I took the bet off the table when our preschool payment was in jeopardy.

In the beginning, there only seemed to be about three of them - our theory is that since he killed one of them - the others are pissed and are now gunning for him. They peck at the glass while we're watching tv.

I may never go outside again.

I really don't want Lisa to be the Next Food Network Star.

If you've been following along, and seriously what else could you possibly be doing with your time, you know that I had pulled my daughter out of school - and put her in a private preschool.

All in all it's been fantastic!

Yesterday was her first 'field trip'. Big plans to go to the local petting zoo, ride the hay ride, see a really big ass turtle and possibly contract E Coli. Big Day - Big Day!

Now, me being a rookie 'field trip' Mom, I followed all the rules, checked and re-checked my 'to-do' list and went to sleep knowing that my daughter would embark on an adventure of a life time - simply because I'm a Rock Star Mom who allows her daughter to ride a bus and play with goat poop.

At about 10:00 the next morning I was informed that the field trip had been postponed until the following day because of rain AND that my daughter was not allowed to have her packed lunch.

Again, me being the rookie Mom.....it didn't even dawn on me that I can't send my kid to school with a peanut butter sandwich.

To make matters worse - I had even put little peanut butter cookies in her lunch box as well.

I might as well have lathered her hair in peanut oil and instructed her to lick everyone.

The staff was very understanding and sweet about my slight oversight (or my attempt to kill off half of the children at the school) and gave me an extra copy of the "School Guidelines" pamphlet.

I think I'll send her to school next week with a 12 pack of Miller Lite and some Lucky Strikes.

I mentioned in an earlier post that we had a retirement party for our Pastor...and since we collectively decided that just closing the doors of the church was a bad idea...We have something big going on with another local church.

Anyway, that being said - Sunday was the first day of a guest Pastor - so I went. For support. To check her out. But also because I promised I would.

I left my heathen husband and 'too young to have an opinion about a higher power' spawn at home.

I was gone from the house for about two hours I guess.

And I came home to THIS!!!

You see? Great things happen when you go to church! Your spouse will buy you a far too expensive gaming console with blue ray! Oh Happy Day!

You see, I'm not much of a 'girly girl'. I don't like bees, but I have no problem jabbing a hook up a worms ass. I had no idea what a Manolo Blahnik was (or how to spell it apparently) until I read it in another blog. I love football, hockey, a six pack and video games.

With the addition of my new PS3 - I do believe that my honorary penis grew a little.


Who's Knocking? Stumble Upon Digg It! Add to Delicious Add to Technorati


Today's post is for a few reasons.

One - A very odd thing happened trying to get into my office this morning.
Two - I wanted to have something other than crotch grabbing as the top story.

It was a typical Thursday morning in my house. Alarm goes off at 6:00, and I rush to get ready and have some alone time before the little one crashes into the bathroom and tries to paint the walls with my eye shadow and test the absorbency of Tampax tampons by putting them in the toilet.

Off to school - on time I might add - and while although there does appear to be a disagreement with what 'special' activity they are having at school today (water play vs. NO water play), she's there - settled and happy. Off I go - still on time - to work.

Leaving my daughter at school wearing a bathing suit, apparently for no reason at all.

So, I swing by Safeway for a bagel and coffee - still on time.

I pull into the parking lot of my building - still on time.

And see this.

I'm pretty damn sure that's a Vulture. Just walking around my building complex. PECKING at office doors.

I really don't know what to do with this information. It seems to ME, that a Vulture, chillin' in the vestibule is strange. Regardless, I felt it necessary to test fate and see how close I could get - and have a bit of a photo shoot with the random Vulture.

Hence, I was NOT on time for work.

Well...What do you know? I've found myself with a few moments to sit down and write something.

And I have absolutely nothing to say. Yea, Yea - I know....My husband is probably choking on his coffee right now.

I had a great weekend with family, that included a retirement celebration for our Pastor of 18 years. Lots of family members got up and spoke and/or sang, which was great. Probably one of the coolest things - was that my sister came into town for it and brought her youngest daughter.....which allowed ME to unload MY daughter on her for 2 whole days. Sweet! (we paid her afterwards....make the guilt less)

I drank my daughters weight in beer. (you guys are going to start thinking I'm a boozer....We just have a lot of reasons to drink. Family comes into town, Birthdays Parties, Tuesdays)

I disagreed with my mother on something pretty big, and she didn't throw anything at me.

I attempted to illustrate to my sister what Mick Fleetwood looked like 15 years ago, at the final concert, when he had electronic drums built INTO his suit...and essentially played his body. It did not translate well.

My mother and I tried to sing Gold Dust Woman...and STILL have no idea what the hell the words are.

I grabbed my sisters crotch. While she was driving. Apparently pretty hard. (I may explain this story one day - but for now - I think that's enough)

My weekend in a nutshell.

Pretty typical right? No? Really? What did YOU do this weekend?