Men's vs. Women's

(Playboy + Penthouse) + 15 minutes/6-pack = Guy Porn + dinner = relaxing evening

(Fanfic Twilight smutfest + 1 laptop + 1 hour alone) x +/- 1 glass wine > 6 loads of laundry + complaining children + needy husband + needed groceries






Sometimes you just get through the day anyway you can.

How do you know when it's time to go to bed?

It's a very simple question. For most folks.

The answer for most people is... when they get tired and/or sleepy... duh!

I wish it were that easy for me.

Sleep is an elusive thing for me. Without the aid of a handful of vitamin supplements, multi-vitamin, calcium, l-tryptophan, black cohosh (subject for a whole nuther blog) and melatonin... I'm not sure I could go to sleep after a normal day's activities. I probably could if someone hitched a plow to me and forced me to plow the lower 50.

The thing is, I can be physically exhausted, but if central control is still online, I'm screwed. And more often than not, it's always online. If by chance I am able to sleep but get up in the middle of the night to pee and the husband is awake as well, he's not allowed to talk to me. If he speaks, and I answer, everything boots up, and I'm toast.

So here I am, laying in bed, physically tired, took my supplements, I've caught up on all my favorite websites, checked emails, blogs, etc. but I keep surfing. All because my brain is wanting some sort of stimulation. Kind of jacked up.

Advice to new bloggers

IF you choose to write a blog for the sole purpose of having a place to put all the bizarre, inappropriate things that are prone to fly out of your mouth because otherwise your head would blow up I offer these suggestions...

1. Do NOT casually mention at a meeting with the youth minister and attending youth that you blog. Because it seems that EVERYONE blogs and wants to follow yours. It's like adding friends on myspace or facebook. A follower doesn't count as a real friend.

2. Do NOT tell them the name of the blog. For gawd's sake don't tell them the name of the blog! Because you WILL forget that you casually mentioned something about flicking the bean two posts back. Try to remember that you will see these people at church, and they will know what you do, and think, and say. They may even tell others... Even worse, they may tell your husband about your blog... And then the jig is truly up. I mean caput! Over! Take your ass off the grill because you are done! You will find yourself censoring yourself again, and then you are back to square one with a charred spot where your head used to be.

3. TRY to remember that your blog is your happy place... a place where you are free to be, do and say anything you like... If you make the stupid mistake of telling someone the name, you will have to enter the blogger witness protection program which involves packing up all your dainty ladylike thoughts and expletives onto a thumbdrive and learning a whole new website/format. Do you really want that? Especially not after you just figured out how to put little applets in.

3. LIE about your blog name. If you are going to lie about something, and I'm certainly not advocating lying, but if you were to lie about something, your blog name would be a real good one to lie about. Make something up. Have it ready, just in case you forget that you don't want people to know that you blog. I would suggest something along the lines of:

• Crazy cat lady blog
• Crazy for compost
• 1001 uses for lint
• My favorite canned soup recipes

You get the idea.

4. PROMISE to blog about them, with pictures attached, if they even attempt to follow your blog publicly. Or worse yet, tell other friends/acquaintances that know you. This is not the time to be nice or Christ-like. I personally advocate a scorched earth policy here. Even if it is the youth minister. This is not the time to back down... stare him down and remind him that volunteers are hard to come by, especially in dealing with teenagers.

Word.

Drama of preteen boys.

Where I got the idea that boys were supposed to be free of hormonal draaahhhhmmmmaaaaa, I don't know. I expected boys become the quiet sullen type. But, the whole flinging themselves on their bed, crying, overreacting to the least little request to make their bed, practice their band instrument over spring break?

I am a cruel mother, I expect things of them. Just a few things like contributing to the functioning of the house, throwing trash away, helping with bringing in the groceries, keeping their shit in their room.

I'm sure it's because I'm too easy on him. Or it could be because he is 12.

All I know is this, I have a new video camera that shoots in web format and he is about to become YouTube/blog fodder.

I am torn... I mean really torn..

Should I let my 12 yr old male child watch the dvd version of the Osbournes or not?

It's quite the delimma.

On the one hand, you have a family man that obviously loves his children with a passion.

And on the other, has quite the potty mouth. With his children.

What is a potty mouth parent to do?

I admit it. I have a mouth. I can string a bunch of dainty expletives together like no one's business. So I GET the Osbornes. Or is it Osbournes? I also have Irish friends so I also understand that the f-bomb is much like salt and pepper... just something you use to add flavor. It's not REALLY cussing, it's just normal language.

But try explaining THAT to my husband.

For GOD'S sake... he considers the word FART a cuss word! (how the hell did I end up married to him?... incredible intelligence, sense of humor... I repeat it over and over) I tried explaining that it's just part of the culture. but to him... f-u-c-k means the "act"....

I'm starting to consider immersion therapy.

Kind of like 'A Clockwork Orange" . where they pry your eyes open and give you drugs to affect your reaction to it.

But back to the Osbornes's .
I love trainwreck television. I love watching the Girls Next Door... I would so love to party with them. Except that I would be a fat cow compared to them.

And I love the Osbornes's. Not for the cussing. but because of how amusing and how it resembles my own trainwreck... except for the mansion in Beverly Hills, and the dog shi**ing on the couch, and the money, and the ... well.. you gett the picture.

So should I let my 12 yr old watch, against the husband's wishes because of the language or just buy the dvds and give them to him on his 16th birthday?

Keeping my mouth shut and my total inability to do so.

I guess that's the reason I'm doing this... blogging, that is.

I've tried blogging on political/social issues, only to receive responses ranging from pissed off to a polite "thank you for stating the obvious". I took away from that little experience that I'm never going to raise anyone's social conscience nor will I be a force for social change.

But most other times that I open my mouth inane, random, bizarre & socially awkward things come boiling out. Like the time that I loudly asked a group of girlfriends over happy hour margaritas (we had just started so I can't blame the demon alcohol) who or what they fantasized about while... um, flicking the bean. Then there are also the one-too-many-glasses-of-wine-I-really-need-to-email-somebody kinds of things. I usually get a response like "what?!" or "oh-kaaay."

So I figure, since I find it impossible to keep my mouth shut and have never shied away from showing my ass in public (see profile photo) I might as well drop my drawers down to my cankles and do it publicly on the internet. Yes, I'll probably embarrass the crap out of my husband and kids but I figure he knew what he was getting himself into and the kids will eventually need therapy anyway. This will just give them something to talk about while going through regression therapy. That's the worst case.

The best case is that I can use this as a behavior-modification tool. Yep, public embarrassment, is very effective for getting your kids to behave. My kids know that any woman that has the tits enough to parade down Main St. Jackson MS in a blue, sequined dress equipped with motorized, spinning propellers on her heavily augmented bosoms, a 5" tiara on her big-haired head will not hesitate to stand on the nearest table and loudly sing a new composition (of her own impromptu creation) extolling the virtues of well behaved children.

So there you have it.