Friday, July 14, 2006

Have You Hugged a Bitch Today?

Man was I ever feeling bitch- aayyy today. The heat, and humidity when combined with monthly hormonal fluctuations caused great internal distress for me. See, we bitches can't help it. It is totally out of our hands and we are just reacting to the idiots all around us who get in our way. Do I hear an Amen, sistas'? No, I have not been drinking.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

What the 'h' is going on?

It's a pretty typical night at the Youngs house. The males are camped in front of the tv, alternately fighting over the remote or the computer, glad I don't have that problem anymore. They are watching some show about the real pirates of the Caribbean. I never get that damn remote anymore. It's always some show about war, or turkey hunting (incredibly booorrring) or chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhhh my h just popped off my NEW freakin keyboard. WTF? I was gonna say chopper show. Ok my h is all better now.

I have something to bitch about. It is nothing new, actually a previous post touched on this situation. It is my bathroom. Every, and I do mean every, e v e r y time I go in there (and I am usually doing the pee dance...) I have to clean the seat. WHY, oh WHY is this so? I worked very diligently with these boys with the whole aiming thing, lifting the seat etc when they were little lads learning how to go. My oldest is off the hook as is my husband, so that leaves 3 suspects and their friends. I may install a security camera or somethhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh there goes my h again. This time I think I fixed it for real. I thought also about "sprinkling" something on the seat next time I'm in there and a boy is pounding on the door yelling he has to "deuce". Vaseline? That would fix there little asses. I do really love them but this must end. The worst is when I have been gone for the day and I return of course really needing to go and somebody not only sprinkled the seat, but they didn't flush a steaming deuce. No fan going either so you open the door and its been dutch ovening in there for God knows how long. Alright, that was really gross, but its true. It's my life, the sad, sad reality of my life. This is what is has come down to. Me, writing about poop.

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