If I Had Known We Were Going to Have a Bomb Threat

... I would have worn more comfortable shoes!

We were evacuated from school and sent down the street to another building for 3 hours. On the day of the TAKS science test. Which the poor kids had to come back and finish after having been cooped up in a dreary stuffy building all that time! They had to finish the test - why? Because TEA is off the deep end with this testing shi+, that's why.

Pretty much my kids made up all kinds of stories about why we were being evacuated: swine flu, gas leak, fire -- the best being that the plastic flamingos had taken over the school and were holding my tiara and rubber chicken for ransom!

So, I was dog-a$$ tired this afternoon. Sat in my massage chair in my classroom and waited for 4:00 to arrive then headed to go tan/nap. Let's just say dinner involved wine - not only because of the day I'd had, but also because MyPoolBoy's ex-girlfriend from high school has been all over his Facebook lately (like every time he posts, she is responding) and I guess he figured I wasn't happy about it and something got said or whatever and she deleted him from her friends list. But not before leaving a message that simply read: So long! If I had had ONE MORE glass of wine tonight, I was gonna click that little thumbs-up sign that says your name and then posts "Likes This"

Batteries Not Included

There are times when I KNOW that some of you think that I make shi+ up. I swear, though, HAND TO GAWD that this is a true and factual representation of the "trophy" made entirely from recycled materials that will be presented by our Student Council to the class that recycles the most before May 22.

As you can see, there are plenty of inappropriate comments just waiting to be uttered:

1) Which student council "member" designed this trophy?

2) This picture was on a poster that needs to be "hung" in our classrooms to promote the recycling drive.

3) It was admitted that they might need to re-"tool" the design before the trophy is actually presented.

4) Is one of the recycled materials by any chance "wood?"

5) One of the Ethels asked "Are batteries included?"





The answer to #5 is no, by the way.

This Was Supposed to Be a Draft

And it posted anyway -- weird. So I'm updating it and making it make a little more sense to people besides me. Here goes:

During one of our neverendingfacultymeetings, they sent over all the insurance reps to tell us exactly how much more we will be paying in premiums next year. One of the plans had deductibles so high I told Felix you might as well die and use your life insurance to cover the funeral costs instead of shelling out money for the deductible and the other 20% it would cost to keep you alive.

Then on page 30something of the booklet it compares plans' costs of having a baby vs. a heart bypass vs. gall bladder surgery or some bull shi+. H3ll, f I found out I was having a baby at this point I would need the bypass, too! Felix was telling me to shut up at this point.

One more thing: There were numerous dress code violations on some of the little girls today, but the most memorable were the words on little girls shirt "If you've got the tricks, I've got the treats"
Not just inappropriate in its double-entendre, but the 5th grade boys would want to read with their finger to track under the words. Or ask for a colored overlay if they were dyslexic and then want to hold the overlay over the words by themselves.

Age Discrimination

So PseudoGrandUrchin/Howler Monkey #1 (TheDivaMonster) is turning 3 tomorrow and we are having birthday dinner and cupcakes tonight at our house. Sitting around and wearing tiaras cuz she wants a princess birthday. H3ll, Ill take any excuse to wear a tiara.

2 incidents of particular note have occurred: PseudoGrandUrchin/Howler Monkey #2 (1 year old - Snotface) ate 2 chocolate cupcakes and proceeded to jump on the trampoline. Ralphed them both up and then went back to playing. Also, TheDivaMonster tried on her new little princess tutu and was walking around lifting it up and showing her shorts underneath.

Why is it when little kids throw up and lift their skirts everyone says they are adorable but when I do it everyone says I'm drunk?

Double Cross

How did I manage to find the church that has the biggest bucket o' crazy that Mullet County has to offer? If you remember a couple of weeks ago, the MusicMan "called me out" about my music/hymn opinions in front of the congregation during the service. After a couple of weeks of cooling-off period (I think I understand handgun laws a little more, now) and some soul-searching, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, suck it up and put on my big girl panties and go back to church to let it all go. Forgive and forget and all that.

Fast forward to yesterday - Easter Sunday. Easter was always a big deal since I was little with the whole new dress thing and all thanks to my grandma, so I was excited. What better day to make my comeback appearance? It would give me a chance to wear my new Lilly Pulitzer bargain dress. I probably should note here that I am usually the ONLY one who ever wears a dress to church. The rest all wear pants or jeans. Which makes what transpired even all the more insane.

And then Deuce and I decided that we should wear hats to church. We set out shopping for her and Heathen an Easter bonnet (I already had plans to wear my straw boater with a pink ribbon). Once we had that done, I felt a little better about going back. I had a bit of tossing and turning with the anticipation of what I would say to MusicMan, but I felt like it was time for me to deal with it. So. We go to church and MusicMan is not there. I relaxed a bit - and let my guard down - like a FOOL.

All was going well, I was glad to be back. Believe it or not, y'all I actually LIKE church - or at least I used to. About 15 minutes before the service was over, Deuce took Heathen and Snotface outside, and Heathen left her little hat in the pew. (This is important for later)

We were literally 10 minutes from it all being over and me escaping an entire church service unscathed and thus restoring my faith in the ability to attend a house of worship without being slammed in front of everyone. And then it happened again. This time by the preacher. He went into his Easter message and as he started to wind down and wrap it up, he talked about remembering the true meaning of Easter, it's not all baskets and eggs... Then he went on about how his kids never had the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus because they wanted them to know the TRUTH, etc. etc. etc. He said "you ladies look very nice in your hats but you should not be following the ways of the world and celebrating with your Easter bonnets either." Yes. Dissing me in front of everyone - over a hat.

At that moment I will have to say that I was extremely proud of my reaction. I didn't sit there all lady-like and nod sheepishly, and I didn't swallow hard and remove my hat to appease him. Somewhere in the course of the past few weeks, I got ballsy and bitchy enough that I didn't care WHERE I was, I was going to really stand up for myself. It was one of those dramatic moments like in a movie, you know, what you always later WISH you had done but were too chicken-shi+ to do or didn't think of doing at the time. I shot MyPoolBoy a "I-can't-believe-this-just-happened-AGAIN" look, snapped my Bible shut, stood up, walked to the aisle, picked up the hat that Heathen left in her pew, and WALKED OUT OF CHURCH!

I guess I'm going to h3ll, people. Over hats.

The Eyes Have It

There is a little chicky in line at the bakery this morning and I think she should sue whoever did the unfortunate tweezing or waxing on her eyebrows. They are severely PLUCKED UP.

Let's just say that they are angular enough to be used as a referential teaching tool for the Pythagorean theorem.

I'm not nice. I know. And I've even had coffee!

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I Love a Parade

So. The county seat of Mullet County is having a big festival this weekend and one of the attractions is a pet parade for the kids. The premise is that the kiddos dress their poor unsuspecting furry family members in a ridiculous costume of some sort and march them down through the town square on a leash for the joyous opportunity to be admired/humiliated by the masses that gather along the streets.

Please note that I am not even going to address the concept of dressing up a cat for such an event. Cats are smarter and have enough sense to know when their humans are trying to cause them undue embarrassment. I know of not one single person who has ever successfully decorated a cat in any manner and survived the ordeal without a trip to the minor emergency for severe lacerations and several rounds of antibiotics.

Now I know some people claim their dogs "like it"when they get all gussied up with painted toenails and bows and doggy sweaters, but not so with our little Weezie. Here's the thing... not only does she detest having you touch her paws - she is exceptionally freakazoid when it comes to her toenails. We can hardly trim them, much less paint them. We got one of those doggy dremel kinds of nail-filing thingys for her so she runs when she even hears the blender now cuz she thinks its someone after her toenails. And dressing her up is out of the question as well. MonsterInLaw gave us some old poodle sweaters (now we've resorted to hand me downs for the dog, no less) and when you put them on Weasel she lays down on her back with all 4 legs in the air as if she has died and is awaiting someone to place a lily upon her chest.

So - no pet parade for us... I can envision the Weeze with one toenail painted, frozen from whatever costume we place on her, laying on her back like a crack whore - legs in the air -- and us pulling the leash just dragging her down the road.

Help - I've Fallen

So I FELL OUT OF BED after drinking too much red wine Saturday night. MyPoolBoy laughed at me (because that is how he demonstrates his dire concern for my safety and well-being) and then asked me if I fell.

He says that I pulled my hands and head up over the edge of the mattress a la Kilroy Was Here, and replied "yep." Then he asked if I was ok. "Yep." Finally, he wanted to know if I needed any help - "nope." So he let me crawl my way back into the bed and like the true loving man that he is... grabbed the back of the t-shirt I was sleeping in to keep me from doing it again!

More Powerful Than a Speeding Bullet

Bulletproof weave. I feel much safer with my extensions in...
Attractive, yet functional.

Edited to add: Felix offered to shoot me in the head to see if it works - I better get some Kevlar extensions and a LOT more vodka before we try it

To the Curb

Seriously. Driving home from school today, I pass a house that has its trash set at the curb and beside the dumpster is a myriad of boxes and crates with mens' shoes, boots, clothes, etc. in them.

Now. It COULD be that someone cleaned out their closet, or that someone died.... but my first thought was that someone got kicked out!!!!!!!!

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Yes, I'm a Little Bit Evil

Played an unusually hilarious and semi-elaborate April Fools' Day prank on our principal today. Got law enforcement and central office personnel involved, even. Can't really say too much else except that we are MEAN.

I was the soul who was brave enough to go to c/o and ask for them to play along. Was told that I have no fear, do I?

Nope, it's more like I have no shame.

Also remarked during a grade-level meeting today that we could get rid of a body out front where they demo'd the old building because there's a big ol' hole out there. Everyone is agreeing and thinking of other holes around the creek, etc. that we could use for body disposal. I stopped them. No. Y'all don't get it -- they are going to PAVE over that hole out there....

The assistant principal said that I scare her.

Gone to the Dogs

Here are the results of a Facebook quiz I took a little while ago. This explains a lot:

WTP completed the quiz "If You Were A Dog, What Dog Would You Be..." with the result Jack Russell.
You are extremely hyper and always running around. Your friends adore you, but at the same time, if they get too much of you they will become very irritated. . Take the quiz! about a minute ago · Comment · LikeUnlike · Take the quiz! · Create a Quiz.

My Comments: I am MOLLY! I am Felix's Killer Ear-Eating dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Waxing Poetic (or at least waxing my legs)

Apple martinis sometimes can be the catalyst for the BEST ideas! So. I have decided that I need to wax my legs, but I have never been one to go to salons for anything except an occasional pedicure and pretty much have always bought strips at Wally World and be my own beauty operator when it comes to depilatory services.

I was sitting here this afternoon thinking I MIGHT could use duct tape to achieve my goal (remember, y'all there is vodka involved here!) So I decided that I would log my progress, conclusions, and findings here for all of you to use for future reference (or for me to use for future reference in case I sober up and need to remember what the h3ll happened to my legs).

Trial #1

Preparatory Step 1.1: Mix apple martini using a formula of 2 parts appletini mix to 1 part vodka. Drink an entire glass to achieve desired buzz effect that provides my brain with enough lubricant to come up with a brilliant idea such as this. Kill enough brain cells to decrease my genius IQ down to average so that I can't tell myself that it is, in fact, NOT a brilliant idea.

Preparatory Step 1.2: Acquire duct tape. Not an easy feat, since it is used A LOT around here due to the fact that not only is WTP white trash, but almost every male in the kingdom is also genetically white trash by at least 50% on a Punnett square. Discover duct tape in Lurch's room - probably left over from prom (duct tape tuxedo). Hopefully has not been used in any major crimes that would necessitate its confiscation by law enforcement thereby making me a wrongfully accused suspect through fingerprinting process.

Preparatory Step 1.3: Insert outdoor speaker jack into headphone hole (what the h3ll do you call that little hole???) and blast Rick Springfield loud enough to sufficiently to cover any anticipated screams and/or expletives that would cause the neighbors to think that domestic violence was taking place.

Preparatory Step 1.4: Log in to blog (You are HERE .) and begin process of explaining my intentions for the experiment. Hyposthesis: Duct tape, long known to have a million and one household uses, will now be able to tout the existence of the million and twoth household use -- hair removal. (I KNOW that twoth is not a real word but it sounds so goshdarn funny!)

Preparatory Step 1.5: Refill martini glass. Dayum! Did I already finish one? Constant in this concoction is the 1 part vodka. Change the amount of appletini mix to a variable of 1 part instead of 2.

Procedural Step 1.1: (finally!) Tear off a strip of duct tape measuring approximately 8 inches in length - does anyone know what that converts to in centimeters for the European readers to grasp this concept?

Procedural Step 1.2: Apply strip of duct tape in the direction of hair growth (I should write directions for personal care products, shouldn't I?).

Procedural Step 1.3: Take a deep breath. No. Seriously. Take a really deep mutha-effing breath.

Procedural Step 1.4: Pull tape quickly in opposite direction of hair growth.

Data Findings 1: Nothing. Tape didn't really stick for shi+ and forget pulling any hair off.

Conclusion 1: I forgot that I put lotion on my legs this morning. Will need to wash said lotion from my skin and refill my martini glass before proceeding any further.

Trial #2

Procedural Step 2.1: Go back inside to make another apple martini using the previous measure of 1 part appletini mix to 1-ish parts vodka. Answer MyPoolBoy's question of what the h3ll am I doing. Ignore his eye roll. Use the excursion inside to also procure a wet washcloth to wipe the lotion from my legs. (Hey, at least I remember what I was going inside for in the first place!)

Procedural Step 2.2: Wipe down legs with washcloth, taking care to remove all traces of aforementioned lotion from my legs. Remark to the cat that this sumbi+ch is sure cold since I let it set while I was typing on my blog.

Procedural Step 2.3: Wait for moisture on my legs to dry since I still have enough of my mental faculties to realize that if the duct tape wouldn't stick to lotioned legs, it sure as shi+ won't stick to wet legs. Drink a little more appletini. Remark to no one in particular that I need a pedicure.

Procedural Step 2.4: Repeat Procedural Steps 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, and 1.4.

Procedural Step 2.5: Yell motherf*&#$er as quietly as you can.

Data Findings 2: Success! A noticeable amount of hair was ripped from the delicate follicles of my legs and retained on the adhesive side of the tape. Note that a relatively miniscule amount of epithelial cells were removed in the process. Run into the house and yell at MyPoolBoy to get the camera. (Photos may be posted later. Or they may not be posted later. Who knows?)

Conclusion: Duct tape does, in fact, have a million and TWO household uses. Consider using duct tape to do a bikini wax. Scold myself for being so inebriated that I would consider such a thing. Allow some of the other voices in my head to scold me for not being inebriated enough to give it a try (chicken! Shut up you sadist! Oh yeah- if I'm a sadist - that'll make you a masochist!)

Postliminary Summation: Decide to screw it and go back inside to get another appletini, leaving legs only partially hair-free.

Cleavage

MyPoolBoy just got caught trying to throw sticks, leaves, rocks, etc. down my shirt.

Evidently he is under the mistaken impression that God put breasts on me for target practice. I told him that I COULD start going bra-less and therefore cause him to lower his aim -- like about waist-high or so.

How to Howl for Cheap

The Lucilles had wanted to resurrect our traditional pilgrimage to Howl at the Moon in San Antonio after TAKS was over this year. Unfortunately, scheduling for a weekend that we can get hotel vacancies is a nightmare because about 1/2 of us have something conflicting on every date that we have picked thus far. So we were talking and came to the conclusion that tonight would be the only feasible time that we could swing it.

On such short notice, though, we cannot get a hotel room -- then we figured we could crash at TrailerTrash's parents house, who live north of town. Alas, this is quite a trek from Howl at the Moon and as difficult as it is to drunkly stumble a few blocks back to the hotel and successfully harass firemen at the firehouse on the corner, there is absolutely no way we could walk (stumble) to TrailerTrash's parents - even sober.

A cab ride would be expensive and would necessitate dipping into the beer money - so that idea was immediately out. What we needed was a designated driver. And there were no volunteers to stay sober -- surprise surprise surprise.

Then it came to me - we could have one of the pregnant staff members do the driving... they cannot drink and thus would be forced to be the designated driver for obvious medical reasons. Since neither of them are Lucilles (or even Ethels), it would be necessary for us to stoop to the all-time low of kidnapping one of them with some kind of makeshift weapon... probably random construction debris of some sort that still litters the playground at school. How to hold them hostage for the remainder of the evening is the only fly in the ointment. Because if they escaped and left us in the lurch we would have no one to drive us AND no one to scrape up bail money if necessary.

Dayum. Plan thwarted.

Tan Your Hide

Thunderduck is working for a collection agency (a real one - no knee-cap breaking shi+, disappointing I know). One of the places he has to do calls for is a tanning salon. He just informed me that the tanning booths are frying the girls brains.

Deuce retorted that its not much of a stretch for them to get naked and lay on their back for 20 minutes so what was he so upset about?
BWAHAHAHAHA!

Octomom

What a backhand that doc has!
Jimmy Kimmel Live - made me snort my Aquafina.

Jerk

So. MyPoolBoy emailed me and asked how I thought Jamaican jerk barbecued ribs with mango-cilantro relish and Zatarains Red Beans & Rice sounded for dinner.

Seriously? WTF?

I emailed him back and asked him if he was aware that kidnapping Emeril would be a felony.

He replied that he got the recipe from Bobby Flay's website.

I told him he was a liar. It had to be Paula Deen or some shi+ like that - Mango-cilantro relish is not a man-word.

I'm still going to get jerk barbecue ribs for dinner tonight, though! A man that is cute AND that can cook! I loves me some PoolBoy!

Holy Moly

It takes a special kind of bi+ch to get pi$$ed off at church. I, my friends, am just such a bi+ch.

To quote Gladys off of the Ellen Show - "I love Jesus, but I drink a little" -- so admittedly I am not a perfect Christian, but it is purely by choice.


Here's the scenario -- we go to a really small church (by small I mean that my family with all my kids and their wives/girlfriends/girlfriends' kids make up over half the congregation). The music minister guy is from California and a really nice guy in an irritating holy-roller sort of way. The past few weeks he and the pastor (who is from North Dakota - so he's a Yankee, but I think God lets that slide) have been asking if there were any particular songs we would like to be singing during the service. And they kept asking and they kept asking and they kept asking. So finally I relented (like a fool) and mentioned to the pastor that I grew up with a lot of the old southern small town Baptist hymns like Old Rugged Cross, Amazing Grace, etc. (you know, pretty much anything off of an Elvis gospel album) and told them I would like to have one of those to sing once in a while. Well last week - the music minister guy was out of town and the pastor chose some music for us to sing that were "old hymns" to him. After the service he pulled me aside and asked if any of the songs he sang were ones that I was familiar with - I honestly told him that I didn't know any of them... maybe it was a regional thing and that us Southern Baptists just had way different stand-bys when it came to church songs.

So last week during the week MyPoolBoy gets a phone call from the pastor, then one from the MusicMan - who told MyPoolBoy that his "eyes had been opened" after he talked to the pastor, then the pastor comes OVER on Friday night to talk to him about what exactly kind of music I liked. At this point I'm telling MyPoolBoy that they are like 2 old women and if they don't have anything better to do except worry about what songs to sing on Sunday to appease me I could tell them plenty of other REAL problems that I have that they could be praying for to take their mind off of the music controversy. I don't know what the two of them were saying to each other to get each other so worked up, but I really didn't care and they were making a gigantic deal out of something really nitpicky and stupid.

So today we go to church -- last day of spring break -- getting ready to wind down before we start the downhill slide for the rest of the year. And the music service started and smack in the middle of all the other songs was "In the Garden." I'm thinking - cool. That'll hold me for a couple of weeks, maybe everybody is finally getting it, and they'll leave me alone.

no.

not at all.

Because obviously MusicMan doesn't respect the dead and he was going to beat a dead horse right there in God's house.

Service goes on -- and at the end the pastor usually opens up for praise or discussion or testimony before we all go home. MusicMan starts to tell about blessings he's received from some people when he lived in California for his music ministry there, and then he launches into how he knows his ministry can bless people no matter what songs he chooses to sing and that people need to open their hearts to a more "normal" way of worship, don't worry about the King James version, "thys and thous don't make it holy" blah blah blah. (Never mind that the people who spoke with thys and thous were the very people that came and founded this whole crazy idea of freedom of worship in this country 400 years ago so that HE would have the right to sing whatever he wanted) It was like he was peeing on the music portion of the service so that his territory was clearly marked. Everyone knew who he was talking to - I DID defend myself a little, just commenting that some of the older hymns are almost poetic - like the Psalms - and there is a traditional, historical value to them. That was about the end of it, then they did the service dismissal and I left VERY quickly.

Thunderduck noted that I was out the door and sitting in the truck yelling at no one before my seat in the pew had even gotten cool.

Here is where it is a good thing that we are Baptists and there is not any communion wine anywhere near me during worship-time (considering that I am a major lightweight and even a sip of alcohol puts my mouth in gear) because I did NOT:

*Stand up on the pew and tell him to Eff off
*Bi+ch slap him
*Throw a hymnal at him and tell him to pick a song and shut up
*Light the wooden cross in the churchyard on fire in an attempt to scare his hippie a$$ back to California
*Draw a line through the middle of the sanctuary for North vs. South so the yankees could have the front half with the musical instruments and sound system and us southerners could claim the back half of the pews so we can sit in the last row like good Baptists
*Toilet paper his house - yet (I'm thinking I could write the lyrics to a lot of songs/hymns on the paper before I wrap his house and he could learn them as he cleans it all up)

Thunderduck's girlfriend said later at lunch (right after I asked the waitress if she could bring me vodka straight up in a Mason jar) that she couldn't believe that he would poke a stick at the beehive like that (meaning our family - since we ARE about half of the congregation) - and for SURE couldn't believe he was stupid enough to poke at the QUEEN BEE.

(Sidenote: I'm thinking of calling her Deuce - as in 2 - cuz her nickname is the same as MyPoolBoy's name and if she and Thunderduck get married there will be two of them with the same name).

Thunderduck said I am the alpha male of the family and we could pay him a visit later - in the Sopranos sort of way, not in the Welcome Wagon with the iconic Protestant casserole dish in hand sort of way... unless I was gonna knock him upside the head with said casserole dish.

Corningware - the southern Baptist lady's weapon of choice.