Archive for September, 2005

Published by PaintingChef on 30 Sep 2005

There is a distinct possibility that sometimes I bitch too much.

Planning ahead usually bites me in the ass. I sort of had it in the back of my head yesterday afternoon that today Patrick and I might play hookey. Well…I’M playing hookey; he worked 19 hours in one day yesterday so he DESERVES a relaxation day.

You see, I had just heard some news yesterday afternoon that had quite an effect on me and so naturally, I started venting and I’ll share that post soon, I’m sure. But not today.

I came up here to just pop that post up here really quick (and find if Amalah had gone into labor yet and YES!!! SHE HAS!!!) and as I was reading over it I realized something. While when I was writing it, I was horribly upset, defeated, and just generally feeling sorry for myself. Today…not so much.

I sat here for a second and took stock of the day. This beautiful Friday where I woke up in bed surrounded by the things I love the most and cherish more than anything. My amazing and wonderful husband who saves me from myself daily and our adorable and precious Belle and Luna. This is my family and I…even now…there are no words to describe the grateful and fulfilled feeling I had as I sat up and looked at the three peaceful sleepers in the bed with me. (I also once again blessed the gods of furniture for creating the king size bed because DAMN…that dog can sprawl!)

And as we sat on the couch and had a lazy breakfast, watched Blue Planet, cuddled with each other, played footsie, watched the cat tear around the living room like a wild animal on SERIOUS LSD and I fed the dog leftover omlette from a fork I got a little more warm and fuzzy in the heart and fell just a little more in love with my husband.

So you know…maybe our family will grow, maybe it won’t. But I can’t let the uncertainty block out what I already have. A really fucking fantastic life.

Published by PaintingChef on 29 Sep 2005

Proof that sometimes it really is better to just stay in bed.

I think I almost died this morning. I’m not positive, but the signs all point to a near death experience…

Let’s take it from the top, shall we?

So the phone rings at about a quarter past the butt crack and its Patrick’s work calling for help with the Big Scary Machines. So off to the shower and then to work he goes. Poor Patrick I think as I strrreeeetch out across the big king size bead and immediately commence snoring drooling and dreaming. (I’m so going to hell for that one…sorry baby.)

BEEEEEEEEEEEPP. BEEEEEEEEEEEPP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEPP!!!!!!!

What? The hell? Oh. What a sweetie, he set the alarm for me. Six fucking thirty in the morning. DAMN! Off to the shower I go, quickly and all proud of my ass because normally when the alarm goes off at six thirty in the morning I stretch and moan and bitch and take stock of all my vitals hoping and praaaying for a little cough or twitch in the throat that will prevent me from dragging my ass out of bed and going to work to deal with the army of non-hat wearing non-flashing lights using dumbasses.

So to re-cap – 6:30 a.m. and I’m in the shower doing all the showerly things, washing hair, shaving neglected legs, et cetera et cetera.

Well possibly in the et cetera is where the problem arose because I get out of the shower and it is SEVEN FIFTEEN IN THE FUCKING MORNING. Forty-five minutes? Really? Was I building a time machine? Solving world hunger? Constructing an ark?

No. I was fucking SLEEPING. In the SHOWER.

I almost drowned this morning but by god, my hair would have been washed and my legs would have been clean shaven.

Published by PaintingChef on 28 Sep 2005

Search Party

Dear strange internet people who are looking for all kinds of crazy shit:

Hello. I am so sorry to disappoint you in your desperate search for Kelly Ripa’s feet or alien pregnancy pictures. You will find none of those here. I can’t help you with your foot fetish regarding overly perky and uber-fertile (bitch) morning talk show hosts however I can tell you that aliens only grow from the mythical youfuckingidiot tree on the fifth Thursday of every month. There are no alien pregnancies.

In addition, you will not find pictures of boys in pajamas being spanked. You moron. Do you really think that boys who like to be spanked wear pajamas? Not unless they are in trouble for drawing on the walls with crayons in the middle of the fucking night. And if that’s what you’re looking for…I’m afraid you are too far gone for me to help you.

For the person looking for good naked party games…duh…knitting mittens. All the cool kids are doing it.

Oh, and the searcher whose mother dreamt she was pregnant and she’s only 15, the only thing you need to know is that your mother is probably afraid you are a dirty pirate hooker. And also, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that your mother is not the one who is 15.

And finally my very favorite…punk my ovaries. Really? You want to punk your ovaries? Because I need to share a little secret with you. Don’t piss those bitches off because they will fuck with your world if you do.

Come on people…

Loving Regards,
P to the C.

To the poor unfortunate soul looking for Sephora in Augusta…seriously…A-U-G-U-S-T-A. Dream on.

Published by PaintingChef on 27 Sep 2005

Rollin’ out the welcome wagon for the new guy.

Hey. New Guy. I overheard you say the following things at lunch and guess what? We are NOT going to get along.

“Those damn switch hitters are the ones who gave everyone AIDS. I hope they all die because then the world would be so much better.”

“I have to go to a Klan meeting with my dad but maybe we could have dinner another night.”

“You do know how they kill cows in a slaughterhouse right? I just think it’s an interesting thing to know because its really non-violent.”

“Those hurricanes hit New Orleans because of Mardi Gras, you know.”

I just wanted to let you know so that when you open your mouth again and I shove the better part of my right arm inside, yank your tongue out, wrap it around your throat and strangle you with your own ignorant, bigoted, asshole tongue you wouldn’t be confused. M’kay?

Oh…and for those of you playing along at home…Crazy Psycho Clomid Wife’s arrival was delayed by the moody indecisiveness of the punk ass ovaries but I’m pretty sure she’ll be landing with a bang sometime in the very near future…

Published by PaintingChef on 26 Sep 2005

Georgia…you’re wrong and you’re stupid.

Georgia is the dumbest state in all of the land. And here’s why my friends.

So what with all the hurricanes and natural disasters going on, fuel conservation is going to be…as Martha Stewart would say…a good thing. And we here in the state of Georgia are going to do our part. Yes ladies and gentlemen, in order to conserve fuel, we’re going to CLOSE SCHOOLS FOR TWO DAYS.

What. The fuck?

So, let me see if I understand this. While yes, it IS true that there will be much fuel consumption avoided without the running of the school buses and the carpooling of the children and such, these children WILL, in fact, still have to go SOMEWHERE. As in, many of their parents work. So they are going to have to go to daycare or babysitters or dark alleys where they can play with drug dealers and run with scissors or SOMETHING. Right?

Now, instead of the fuel used by ONE school bus and the ONE parent driving each carpool, EVERY SINGLE parent who isn’t able to stay at home with the kid is going to have to DRIVE them somewhere. Or a babysitter is going to have to DRIVE to their house.

Is it just me or does this not make one fucking drop of sense?

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