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See that picture up there. Yeah, take a good look. See those black statues around the base. Well the other day I was walking out of work and I thought, for a nanosecond, that they were giant flying monkeys. I’m dead serious.

I know, I know. That’s the kind of crazy that is only reserved for…well, the crazy. But, in my defense, I had worked really hard that day and was kind of tired. Still, flying monkeys is nuts. My heart actually skipped a beat in fear. Yes, but only for a nanosecond.

Well, my younger sister (the one who just had a baby) almost lost her baby because her mother called child protective services. Her mother, the prostitute and drug addict and my abusive ex-stepmother, tried to get her daughter’s child taken away because her daughter is addicted to drugs. We find out that my sister, her daughter, is addicted to drugs because her mother is a sick bitch who pressures her own children to take drugs or else she does things like try to get their kids taken away.

Seriously, the reason for her calling to have the baby taken was because my sister moved in with my dad to get away from her. Thank goodness my dad is a cop. He was able to talk to the case manager and now has temporary custody of the baby until my sister gets out of rehab. She’s going away for 6 months to a facility that she can’t sign herself out of. Only my dad can sign her out per a court order the case manager obtained. Best news ever. The baby is still in the hospital and is coming home next week sometime.

Oh, and my sister is also getting a restraining order on her mother.

Ugh.

One of my babies was sick yesterday. Little Nina was vomiting and squirting the whole day. Baby girl was so upset. Thankfully, I don’t get grossed out easily. I made her drink lots of water and after a few hours of wondering what the hell was going on, it dawned on me that the kittens were eating Stella’s Fancy Feast (Stella won’t eat any other food…I’ve tried). I think the food was too rich for her belly. I got her eating kitten food and she’s been right as rain since.

But, I was scared for a few hours. She’s tiny and only 8 weeks old.

Even more scared than when I saw the giant flying monkeys.

And finally, hold onto your asses…because this is fucking cute. Roslin thinks she thinks she’s the mommy. And Nina and Hayden are going right along with it. Stella Marie is still pissed.*

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*My friend Jason has sympathized with Stella Marie and asked me, “What if one day Stella Marie came home with 3 Debbies? How would you feel?” Point taken. Poor Stella Marie. But she’ll eventually get over it.

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I’m very hungover today. Very very very hungover. I got in this morning at 5 AM. That’s right, 5 AM.

I went to a Cinco de Mayo BBQ last night at my parent’s friend’s house. I’m friends with their daughter, who lives next door to her parents. The party was held in their backyards, they don’t have a fence, and about 50 people attended. There wasn’t one Mexican there, so my mother’s friend Joe (who is Irish), wearing his Ireland soccer jersey, held up his home brewed lager and toasts Mexico and it’s wonderful resorts. His Scottish wife, who I’ve spoken about here, yells, “Oy Oy Oy” and we all drink.

Somewhere around 10 PM, we young people start playing flip cup. After a few games, the parents wanted to play and they form their own team. At midnight, a full blown tournament starts with 8 teams. At 3 AM, the tournament heats up and there is some serious smack talking going down. At 3:30 AM, I think, someone suggests I stand on the corner of the table and pull my shirt down to display my cleavage to distract our friend Ron at the end of the table. I go one further (can you say drunk) by bending over and shaking my ass while displaying my cleavage. This works, I chug my beer and make a perfect flip on one try. This leads to everyone screaming, “That ain’t right.” We go on to the final round, where I was told we would be disqualified for any cleavage showing high jinks. I called them all crybabies.

We fucking won.

And, that’s all I really remember. I was fucked up drunk. I woke up on my couch with my pants halfway down my legs, my panties twisted in a very uncomfortable way, one sock pulled over my sneaker and the other sneaker off, and drool running down my face. My friend tells me later that she drove me home around 5 AM and while climbing my stairs, I yelled to her that I had to take a break cause they were too steep.

I’m surprised I didn’t write a post. Hmm.

I almost fell down walking to the bathroom. I showered, cause I smelled like beer. I looked at the time. 9 AM. I had the shakes. My mouth was seriously dry. I guzzled about 10 glasses of water. I fucking collapsed on my bed.

It was suddenly 3 PM. Like magic. I lost 6 hours of my life. Didn’t hear a fucking thing. Didn’t move. My back hurts, my neck hurts. I feel like a train hit me.

In other news…..um, there is no other news. I’ve been watching Little Britain all day. Brilliant. Fucking hilarious.

Yup, that’s all I got.

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For all of you who have been with me for a while, you may remember me mentioning that I want to be a ninja. Yeah, how cool am I?

Not a real ninja though. That’s ridiculous. I want to be a superhero cartoon kind of ninja. For some reason that isn’t as ridiculous as being a real ninja.

Anyhow, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought (well not that much though but enough to write this post) and these are some of the ideas I’ve come up with to make my ninja form different than other ninjas out there.

I went to this site and checked out all of the gear and shit they had there. They have swords, throwing stars, dragons, and kick ass uniforms. It’s awesome. But then I starting thinking that I could probably come up with a better uniform than what they offered. Something a bit more deadly and sneaky. And fashionable. I’m still a woman. Then I thought, how fucking incredible would it be to have a uniform made from materials that utilized the same chemical processes a chameleon has. Then I could be deadlier because I would just blend in with the scenery, but not just one kind….all fucking scenery. Like Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak except I wouldn’t be a wizard.

Wait, a ninja wizard would be fucking fierce. Instead of a sword I’d have a wand. Yeah, so cool.

Okay, I should focus. Just the ninja stuff for now.

I went ahead and bought the book, REAL Ultimate Power: The Official Ninja Book. They had so many ideas for how to make your uniforms and how to flip out in such a way that people wouldn’t come near you forever. But, I didn’t want to be that kind of ninja. I wanted to be the super sneaky kind that could chop off a head without anyone even knowing I was in the room, except for the faint smell of lavender. That would be a my calling card….lavender. I would be the lavender invisible ninja.

While ordering the book, I saw The Batman Handbook: The Ultimate Training Manual and thought, “Hell yeah.” What was I to do? Batman or Ninja? Ninja of course, but I felt I needed to give the Batman idea a chance and I ordered the book. I now think that my superhero lavender smelling camouflage ninja self could use sidekick. Someone way less cooler than me, but still able to deal with the amazing super ninja I’m going to be.

But then I saw The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead and I was like, “Ohhhhhh nooooo” cause you all know how I’m deeply afraid of zombies. Vampires, mummies, werewolves, demons, gremlins, Freddy, Jason….I piss from laughing at them. Zombies will make me shit myself. It’s because I really believe that out of all the possible horror movie things that could happen in real life, zombies are one of them. I can’t watch zombie movies because I get so scared I can’t sleep for days. I even have nightmares about them, which I’ve posted here. So, of course I had to buy this fucking book. I knew deep in my soul that this book would prove itself useful and one day those who laugh at my zombie fear will come running to me because I alone have the key to defeating the army of zombies created from a crazy virus that the monkeys brought here from the jungle we cut down. I don’t want to talk about zombies anymore cause I’m getting scared.

I felt that my quest to become a ninja was getting sidetracked and since I was confident I had what I needed to purchase my ninja goods, make my own uniforms (except the chameleon technology—can anyone help an aspiring ninja out), and hire a sidekick….I felt I needed something more. I needed a mentor or sage ninja to guide me in my journey.

I started listening to the podcast, Ask a Ninja, and I knew that I had found the one that would lead me down the right path.

Now, all of you can rest easily knowing that I’m on my way to be the coolest and fiercest ninja ever.

I have to think up a good ninja name.

And be happy that I will be able to protect myself when the zombies finally attack. Cause they’re going to.

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I went out last Friday with my friend Tim, his younger sister, and a bunch of her friends. We went to a bar I would normally avoid, but Tim and I wanted a good laugh so we didn’t mind. Besides, we both wanted to see if my new haircut added to or diminished my fierceness. His words, not mine.

Oh, didn’t I tell you. No? That’s right, now I remember….I was taking a vacation from blogging. Well, I chopped my hair off. It’s now chin length and I love it. It’s so blissfully easy to fix my hair in the morning, I’m thinking of never having long hair again. And no, you’re not seeing a picture just yet because I need to lose a few pounds. I don’t know what happened to me this winter but I’m not happy at all. Tim has assured me that it’s hardly noticable, but I feel heavier and it’s bothering me. So, you’ll see my new hair when I feel attractive again.

Anyhow, back to the story. Since Tim thinks I’m as fierce as I’ve ever been, I get all dolled up to go to the cheesy bar. The bar had a very small dancefloor and a DJ with the biggest afro I’ve ever seen on a white person in this century. As I ordered my first drink, the song “In da club” starts up and everyone is screaming and all of the hos…erm I mean women…run onto the dancefloor like it’s the only song they’ve ever learned to dance to. I gulped my first glass of wine and then gulped the second right away. By the time I was sipping the third glass, I was feeling extremely loose.

We were sitting near the dancefloor so we had a nice show to watch. Tim and I were laughing our asses off. We see this guy staring at us. He starts hopping over to me and thrusting his pelvis at the same time. I laughed so hard in my wine that I got some up my nose. He then started making these strange movements. I thought he was doing the butt, very badly.

Tim and I turned back to the bar laughing. About 10 minutes went by and I’m being tapped on the shoulder by a woman who looked like this flatchested Elvira looking chick. I hear Tim guffawing next to me and I’m trying to keep a straight face. She tells me that her friend thinks I’m pretty and I’m amazed. No, not that her friend thinks I’m pretty, but that she has friends that have agreed to come out in public with her looking like she did. She had a beehive.

I was fascinated with her beehive. As she was telling me all about her friend, I got an overwhelming urge to test the strength of her beehive. It looked like it had a lot of structural support, but I needed to be sure. I wondered if she rolled a kneehigh stocking in there or maybe a bit of styrofoam. I needed to be sure. I lifted my hand to poke her beehive just when she turned her face back to me and I froze, finger in the air two inches from her head. She looked at me like I’m the weird one while Tim is now laughing so hard he’s choking. If there’s anyone on this earth who knows me, it’s Tim. He knew I was going to poke her in the head.

The woman tells me she’s going to get her friend and runs across the dancefloor. I wonder out loud to Tim if the friend is also in costume. Tim is now incapable of sitting up straight because of the laugh cramps in his stomach. The chick comes back and guess who her friend is? Yep. That idiot that was doing the butt with no real skills. He tells me his name is Charles and the following conversation takes place:

Me: “Oh, you were doing the butt earlier.”
Guy: “No I wasn’t. I was doing the krunk.”
Me: “Huh?”
Guy: “You know, I was krunk dancing.”
Me: “Are you gay?”
Guy: “No way. Why would you think that?”
Me: “I have exquisite gaydar. And I don’t know too many straight white men dressed for yacht sailing krunking at a club.”
Guy: “I have style, like Justin Timberlake.”
Me: “So gay. You mean to tell me you’ve never sucked a dick? I get the vibe that you have.”
Guy: “Yeah, I’ve sucked a few dicks in my life. But I’m not gay.”
Me: “Listen Chuck, you’re gay.”
Guy: “I’ve never taken anything up the butthole. I’m not gay.”
Me: “Really, Chuck. You just said butthole. And dude, you’ve sucked a dick. You’re gay.”
Guy: “Whatever bitch.”

So, they walk away and I’m in desperate need of another drink when Tim says, “He totally has taken it up the ass. He looks like the kind of fucker who would lick his own shit off of a guy’s dick.”

And then it happened……

I fell off of the stool and was on the floor laughing my fucking tits off.

Tim helped me up and out of nowhere the bouncer appears and tells us we would have to leave. Apparently, I was flagged. Tim’s sister wanted to stay, so the two of us came back to my house and drank ourselves silly with Tim dancing like Chuck every once in the while. I’m calling him ‘Krunk in the Trunk’ and he was calling me ‘Flagged hag’.

Alas, Tim left the next morning to meet up with his gorgeous boyfriend and I covered my head with my pillow and wished I had a gorgeous man to nurse my hangover.

Bastards.

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I’m getting over my cold. Thank you all for your well wishes. I appreciate it. I’m at the stage now where I’m constantly blowing my nose. I’m not sure where all of the snot is coming from, but I must have expelled a pound of it from my sinuses today. Gross? Yup. My cubicle neighbor, L, asked me what color it was at one point. I told her it was light yellow. She almost fell off her seat laughing. She didn’t expect me to tell her.

I’m extremely busy at work right now. In addition to my 3 monthly publications, I have 2 supplements that will be publishing in March. So, that’s 5 issues and 700 pages that I’m going to have to edit, manage, proof, and get published. That’s not including ad layouts and all of the questions and bullshit. And I love it.

I went to a diner with my mom tonight and as we were sitting there I got the overwhelming urge to pick up the squeeze bottle of ketchup and squirt it at someone. I told my mom and she looked worried. We both ordered chicken cheese steak wraps. As we’re eating, my mom asks me if I like it and I say, “Chicken, cheese, onions, peppers, and marshmallows. What could be bad about that?” My mom is looking more worried. I ask what’s the matter. “Marshmallows?” she says. I start giggling and say, “I did say marshmallows, didn’t I?” We start eating in silence and I get into a really good stare. You know, the kind where you’re not thinking about anything–you’re just staring. My mom says my name and I yell (it was pretty loud), “What’s going on, Mom?” She starts laughing at me. She asks if I’m okay and I say that I’m tired. This makes her feel a little better.

I got my first birthday presents this weekend. My friend Tim gave me a pair of pretty earrings and a bunch of really gorgeous fairy figurines. I also want to thank Danielle from Maryland for the book. It was really sweet of you to send me a present and I’m very happy you like this blog. I can’t wait to get reading that book. Thanks again.

I’m watching American Idol just now and I’m worried about Paula Abdul. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t even think she’s taking good drugs. Fucking space cadet. Aside from her, this is my favorite part of the show….the auditions. These people are great.

And what’s up with people saying like after every word they speak. I can’t even imitate it here because it irks me so much. And other thing, what’s up with all of the muffin tops I’ve been seeing lately. For those who don’t know what a muffin top is, click here. I see them everywhere. Just buy a bigger pair of pants. It’s got to be uncomfortable.

Okay, here’s what a contestant just said to the judges on why she should be picked after she acted like the Cowardly Lion and sang ‘If I Were King of the Forest” exactly like said lion, “Because I’m like the mostest different person here.” I worry. I do.

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