Monday, November 23, 2009

this is how today went.

Miss O's stupid evil God-awful black cat, Sully, slept on my head last night. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't just acquired THE FLEAS, and if I didn't have a hair appointment this afternoon. Thanks, cat.

Wee Man's preschool class celebrated Thanksgiving today, which involved short people sitting in three rows of 10 chairs, and sometimes singing a variety of preschool songs. It was exactly the same program we saw two years ago when Miss O was in preschool cute. Wee Man has been having a growth spurt of late, and is either eating, sleeping, or acting like a wackadoo. Naturally, during the "celebration", he chose wackadoo. Good work, kid.

The Electric Company sent the Asplundh Tree Service to our house today to remove the two enormous maples in our front yard. This is a happy/sad thing. I'm happy the trees won't fall on our house or vehicles, and The Mister is sad because he's a sentimental fella, and those trees have been there forever. Sorry, babe.

Sweets has discovered The Art of The Head Butt. And I think the bridge of my nose is broken. No, really. He performed the kind of move with his head that the fancy karate people use on boards when they want to bash them in half. I am in SO MUCH FACE PAIN right now that not even the lortabs help. You're advanced, karate-headed babeh.

I got a haircut tonight, because I was looking like some crazy, frizzed out, poorly dyed, bastard child of a mushroom and a loaf of bread. Now I'm looking nicey. Thanks, Tiff.

Whist sitting in the chair at the salon, because SALON is so much fabber than HAIRDRESSER, which makes me sound like an old lady or something, the junior salon girl pointed the hair dryer at my right ear drum and fired away for an hour, burnt both of my ears with the flat iron, also burnt my forehead with the flat iron, and sprayed me in the eyes with the spritzy stuff at least half a dozen times. You rock, junior salon girl.

But... I did get the diapers all washed and dried, the house is mostly cleaned, I remembered to make my contribution to the MOPS breakfast tomorrow, also baked a batch of bread, and The Mister and I made a grand pot of some seriously bad-ass bean soup.

And by BAD-ASS, I do not mean the kind of bean soup that gives you a bad ass.



  1. Ah, the head butt. My son busted my nose when he was about ten months old. It took awhile before I could stop sobbing and swearing.

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  3. Oh, I'd forgotten about the head-butt stage. Ouch.

    Bean soup. YUM.

  4. I'll echo what anonymous said . . .


    And salute for not shoving a flaming hot curling iron between Junior Salon Girl's buttocks.

  5. one of my students asked the other day why i was so tired. i replied, "because my cat slept on my head all night long. i think he likes sleeping on my pillow."
    she said, "why don't you just put another pillow on the bottom of your bed for him to sleep on?"
    hmmm ... how can a 2nd grader be smarter than me?

  6. freaking anonymous spambots make me dream about turning on the word verification.

  7. why are babies so freakishly strong, what with their head buts and eye gouges and hair pulls. mine also likes to try and pull my lips off my face. is awesome. stop being jerks, babies. we feed you and stuff.

  8. Isn't the wackadoo a type of bird?

    You may want to invest in some protective headgear, sort of like what boxers wear in training, but with a heat shield on it. Might make it tough to eat soup, though.

    Hey, speaking of soup, have any left? Could you send it to me? Yum...


talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.