Worst Mother EVER.

So it all started when Becca had a friend named Destiny. I would hear someone at our front door and I'd say, "Becca! Destiny's knocking!" Then I'd laugh and laugh. And she'd stlower at me (that's across between a stare, a glare & a glower, you know). As always, I took the joke too far, what with "Destiny's calling", "Have you touched bases with destiny today?", and, my favorite, "Did you live up to destiny's expectations today?"

Eventually, we grew tired of the Destiny jokes. I mean, they never got old for ME, but Becca threatened to run away from home if I didn't stop saying, "Your destiny sure knows how to keep you in line."

But now. Oh now I have a new and horrible way to torment the Becca. She came home from school with "I Love Jesus" written on her arm. Don't ask me why. She's 14. Anyway, I said, very sternly, "I don't think it's appropriate that you have I love Jesus written on your arm, since everyone knows it's supposed to be written all over your face." And then I laughed and laughed. And she stlowered at me. Oh, the jokes go on and on: Becca, were you touched by Jesus today? Should I call the police? etc....

Before you decide I'm the worst mother ever, know this: Becca always gets me back. One time, she switched all the dustjackets on all my books around so my entire bookshelf was TOTALLY wrong. It took me several tries to finally figure THAT puzzle out. And another time she glued the ends of the toilet paper roll so I couldn't unwind it. I struggled for many frustrating minutes to figure that out, as well. Good thing it was after the "fact" so there wasn't too much "urgency".

Oh, we go back and forth, do Becca and I. ChiChi says she's my payback. For what, I've never known. I do NOT remember EVER messing with my mom's toilet paper.

Ok, I'm sorry but...

...Hot Rod is the best movie ever in the history of movies. I mean, movies of a lower standard. Anyways...

Remember when I pondered the mystery of how something gets put on a list as the best something ever? Now I know. One Mike's Hard Cranberry, two Simply Sleeps and satellite TV. That is how all Best of lists are made. Mystery solved. I can now go back to punch dancing and silent laughing.

Wait. Just one more thing. The safety word is Hwisky. Richard. You know of hwhat I speak.

SLMAO (silent laughing my ass off!)

That's MISTER Wayne, to you, pilgrim.

Watchin' "The Comancheros" - has there ever been a manlier man than John Wayne? I mean, seriously. He didn't smoke cigarettes; he scared 'em so bad they just self-destructed. The sun wasn't brave enough to even THINK about fading his red work shirt. The only person who could've kicked his ass was...HIM. He makes Wolverine look like Hello Kitty, and with just one glare, he could make Chuck Norris start crying like a little girl in ringlets.

I imagine, back in the day, the testicles of men who found themselves in his presence actually hid their little, wrinkled faces in shame for being...NOT his.

Heck. I think I'm growing chest hair just watching this movie.

Oldster

Matthew says I can smell a toot before it happens. Except he doesn't say "toot". In fact, when I call it a "toot", he giggles. Of course, he calls it something completely different. I think you gets the drift.

When the kids are late for school, I say, "You're tardy." They think THAT'S hilarious, too. What is wrong with these kids of mine? I call things what I've always called things, and they treat me like I'm some kind of silly, senile oldster, longing for the good old days when pantaloons were sexy and townies wore spats.

I call CDs "albums" and when I say I need a new pair of thongs, they look at me like I just said I'm installing a stripper's pole in the dining room. That they think I need a PAIR of thongs probably makes their imaginations run pure, buck wild. Mental scars for days, I guess.

I say "Stay off my lawn, you hooligans!" Matthew says, "You hooligans stay off my mom!"

Is this what's called a failure to communicate?

Is it wrong?

Is it wrong to have a visceral reaction to Home Depot...just because I associate it with Tony Stewart, who I find to be repulsive and...and...just plain oogey?

There's literally in intersection in our town where if you turn left, you go to Lowe's, if you turn right, you go to Home Depot. I never even consider turning right.

Last time I hit town, I got to thinking, why is that? After all, they're practically the same store, just different logos. I doubted I'd save a penny on 16 penny nails at one and not the other. So why, when I tried to turn my car right, I gagged and started shouting, "ick ick ick" and wanted to drive my family truckster through the front of Home Depot?

Tony Stewart. Jowly, hairy, greasy, thick-rubbery lipped, whiny-crybaby ICK. He even makes me wanna hate the color orange.

Now before somebody points out to me that he no longer drives the Home Depot car...just let me have my bias. Please. 'Cuz red is my favorite color and my dad wears Old Spice, so I just can't hate his new car. But I can still hate HIM.

GooGoo for GaGa

I just KNEW I was gonna love Lady Gaga as soon as I realized she says "glue-gunning" in one of her songs.

I can't get enough. Though I don't relate in ANY way, shape, or form to her luxury goods, leather underwear, glittery sunglasses & chrome makeup schtick, I just love car dancing to her songs. But only when I'm alone. If I do it when the kids are in the car, I get withering looks from them and Becca says, "Mom. No."

I bought her CD and I can't stop listening to it. 'Cuz you all know I'm a total slave to high fashion & being dirty rich beautiful.

Sometimes I put the CD player on shuffle and get to listen to "Let Her In" by John Travolta, followed by "Pokerface" by Gaga, then "Sailing" by Christofer Cross. Don't be envious; if you'd like, I can make you a playlist. Just ask.

Listology, page 55

Ways You've Change Since Your Teens

Got fat
Grew mustache
Cut hair
Realized childhood dreams aren't really for real life.

The Fellowship of the Twinge

The Fellowship has made a pact. They formed in My Lower Back: Shrieking, Stabbing, Throbbing, Aching. Four there were. Four there still are. Four are KICKING MY ASS. Somebody needs to find me some longbottom leaf and soon.

Oh my gosh. I think I just let everyone in the world know that I've not only seen, but memorized the LOTR. Now I'm never gonna get laid.

Dang it.

My husband is SO getting some of these boots.

Ignore the fact that it's OJ Simpson, who first screwed justice & then totally became Karma's bitch. Ignore the polyester blue "jeans". Ignore the smarmy fist-under-chin, 3rd grade portrait pose. Ignore all of this...and focus on the fact that if you wear these boots, you grow a third leg.

My husband is SO getting some of these boots.

Listology, page 12

Guilty Pleasures

Dove chocolate
PerezHilton.com
Family Guy
Archy McNally books