GAC Gospel Hour!

Bestill my beating heart. Becca, in that tunnel vision, narrow focus, pinpoint laser beam of attention that 14 year old girls have, is currently totally enraptured of her youth group and Top 40s country music. (She is also absolutely physically addicted to the Twilight vampire series of books, but the irony of this seems to be lost on her).

Anyway, she just loves the weepy sounds of songs such as "Jesus Take the Wheel" (no, I'm not kidding") and the uber-tragic, two-hanky "Whiskey Lullaby".

Instead of shoving a knitting needle into my eardrum until all I hear is the hissing of air escaping, I just ask her to please turn it down. I'm afraid the neighbors will hear & if there's ever an apocalypse, I just KNOW country-music fans will be the first to be eaten when food runs out.

While every day with Becca is a holy-rollin', sh*t-kickin' time, today was even MORE so.

She's bigger than me, so getting the tv remote from her is something I gave up on long ago and she pretty much rules what's on tv. Normally, I can tune it out, with a combination of ear plugs & vodka, but this afternoon, I felt a great disturbance in the force. As though a million voices cried out, and were suddenly silenced...only to be replaced with yodeling and twangy guitars.

Turns out Becca had the TV tuned to the Great American Country Gospel Hour and when I realized that what I was hearing was NOT a million voices crying out in fear, but 27 D-list country singers sitting in a big circle around a fake fire, taking turns singing gospel "hits", my brain literally imploded. Ker-splat.

I scooped up what was left of my frontal lobe and wandered away from the horror, wondering if the parents who are raising my real child ever wonder why their coon dogs & their prissy daughter just don't get along.

Bacon dipped in bacon

So this is the link to the recipe:

http://foodproof.com/photos/full/bacon-cheese-roll-1290

and this is my reaction:

oh. my. god. so THAT'S what happened to Jessica Simpson!



you're welcome.

one last thing...

...before I say goodnight. Didja hear about the lady who birthed 8 babies yesterday? That's a LITTER. That's not a birth; that's a jumbo order. There were only supposed to be 7, but the 8th popped out, SURPRISE! I assume the shock of that 8th baby is what caused the mother to decide to BREASTFEED all 8 of them. She was so shocked and thus totally berserk. I wondered exactly how she'd accomplish such a feat. In fact, it kinda kept me up last night. It seems physically impossible. I mean, did she grow an udder while she was pregnant?

Today, the answer. I wish I'd never read it. I. Wish. I'd. Never. Read. It. The hospital announced today that "Five of the newborns are already feeding from bottles of donated breast-milk." Let me repeat that, in case you didn't catch it the first time: "...DONATED BREAST-MILK."

Ponder THAT. Gah.

my dotr r smart

my dotr r smart. m o o n that spells smart. straight A's. but she's ugly, so I guess she breaks even. (just kidding - i only said that 'cuz she was standing over my shoulder. gotta keep her in her place, y'know.)

ya, so she's smart and with far less attitude than most 14 year olds. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I tell her dope makes you stupid and sex makes you pregnant so do one or the other, but not both. that's what I call good parentin'.

i'm kinky

my back is kinky. kinked. in the act of kinking. So. I'm officially kinky. Bleh.

positive is hard

Stinking Steven. I told him I'd try to be more positive but writing positive is WAY harder than writing negative. Would it help if I started each entry with "no offense, but..." or "don't take this the wrong way..."? Doesn't that excuse ANYTHING I could possibly say?

"No offense, but do you realize you're not fooling anybody by wearing white on your wedding day?"
or
"Don't take this the wrong way, but your taste in men is almost as bad as your taste in clothes."

See? It just takes the sting right out of it!

I'm gonna start every sentence that way from now on.

I'm positive

Super Steven read my blog and told me I need to be more positive. He says I need to find more positive things to write about & stop making such fun of other people. This is my response:

I am positive I love him despite the fact that he bought me a laptop, then had me download & install poker on it so I really just get to borrow it from him.

I am positive I'm not making fun of anybody who doesn't really really really deserve it.

I am positive my family makes me laugh, and yes, sometimes I'm laughing at them & not with them.

I am positive that if someone tries to interfere with the happiness of my loved ones, I am not afraid to run them down with my Family Truckster.

Is that enough positive for one night?

GAH my EEEEEYES!

There is such a thing as growing old gracefully. See: Sophia Lauren, Barbara Eden, my little Gramma. And then there's the much longer list of women who are no where near the same stratosphere of graceful. See: Cher, Priscilla Presley, Joan Rivers.

And then there's Madonna.

In Madonna's world, she is sexy, chic and just so much eye candy for her legions of fans. At least, that's what she forces her employees to chant while they spray her down with the tears of virgin school-girls every morning, before sitting down to a breakfast of baby harp seal cutlets and poached American bald eagle eggs.

The reality is this:



GAH. Since when are white support hose sexy? She looks like a character from Silent Hill. Like a bleached piece of jerky left out in the cold too long.

There aren't enough virgin school-girls, harp seals OR American bald eagle eggs in the entire infinite universe to make this look even next door to good.

Filth flarn filth

You know it's gonna be an interesting day when you have to brace yourself to leave your bedroom in the morning. I knew what awaited me in the rest of the house. Pig sty. Matthew's overnight hanging out with the guys thingy has taken over the entire house & has sent Rudy to hide behind the couch. There are boys covering every inch of furniture & wherever there isn't a boy, there's a mountain of pop cans.

I also have a feeling they played some sick game of double dog dare ya in the kitchen last night. There's a congealed concoction in a cup on the counter that looks like toxic waste but smells like chocolate syrup & Worcestershire sauce. I didn't even bother to ask any questions. I just plugged my nose & dumped it out.

There's a good chance it'd be easier to move out of our house than it will be to clean it.

I should've stayed in bed and refused to come out until all the kids who didn't come out of me are gone.

are any of them hot?

I talked on the phone to my 10 year old niece tonight. I told her Matthew has six of his friends over tonight to play video games. She asked how old his friends are. I said twelve. She asked "Are any of them hot?"

I have two problems with this: #1) isn't it illegal to try to decide if your 12 year old son's 12 year old friends are "hot"? And B) she's TEN. She should still be playing Barbie and dress up and friggin' tea party with her damn stuffed rhinoceros or something. Watching re-runs of flippin' Winnie the Pooh. Gah.

Matthew is most definitely GIRL CRAZY. He classifies his "relationships" with girls as such:
"just flirting", which to him means batting his eyelashes, and to the girls it means setting up a glowing Matthew shrine in the back of their closet.

"just texting", which to him means sending text messagess like "idk, brb, lol" or something, crap I don't know, but as far as the girl is concerned, he's saying, I would like very much to meet your father and ask for your hand in marriage in the very near future.

And then there's the "she's hot" - this results in him talking on the phone for HOURS at a time, taking his phone in his room & texting until dawn, and "taking a walk", which takes him RIGHT PAST the hot girl's house, back and forth, back and forth, until she notices him and comes out to visit. He came into my room tonight and said, Mom. Evelyn's parents said that tomorrow they might let me come inside.

A wedding can't be far off.