Archive for February, 2009

Happy ERD!


(And that’s number two.  I got distracted and forgot to take the picture…)

You’ll be happy to hear that today actually is an ERD!  (Early Release Day, for those of you that aren’t in the know.  It’s like the EVOO of Shannieland.  Except EVOO is stupid and ERD isn’t…  The Mister comes home early on Fridays…  Or he’s supposed to…  So, it’s my “early release day.”  Sort of like my time off of a jail sentence for good behavior…)  The Mister actually showed up around 4:00.  Yay, Mister!

So, Friday Search Term Fun will have to wait.  There are some crazy ones on there this week, too.  Like super, jacked up-beyond bizarro fucking crazy.

Cheers!  (I didn’t lie…  I said less beer.  Not no beer.  And I totally didn’t mean for that to include ERD.  Baby steps, people, baby steps…)


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Good As New…

Sort of.

*drumroll, please………………..*


That’s the after.  (Those are some mad repair skillz I’m rocking there, people.) 

Wait til you see the befores.  It’s just awful.  You may want to shield the eyes of any boob, or chicken breast, lover around you.  It’s that bad.



That slit under the “nipple” is where it exploded.  And then the whole other side of the thing is where the goo is missing.  Hmmm….  


It’s amazing the damage a 3.5 year old and a brush can inflict.  I have the sweet, angelic child on video declaring her innocence and demonstrating how she layed her little head on it like a pillow, if anyone’s interested.

Anyway, what’re gonna do?  (Fix that bitch with some tape is what!)  All’s well now.  As long as the Mister doesn’t squeeze them too hard. 

Happy ERD!  And stay tuned for some Friday Search Term Fun!

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Wow.  All this boob talk lately…  Boobs are the new “it” topic.  (Click here and here for more tittie talk.  My girls Coco and Shannon started the boobie blogging bandwagon.  Hop on board.  Boobs are cool.)

So, if you all have read this blog long enough, or clicked the above links and read the comments, you know that I could be the President of the Itty Bitty Tittie Committee.  I don’t even fill up an A cup.  Yes, you heard that right. 

If you have heard me talk about the above before, you’ve also probably heard me make mention of my “chicken cutlets,” aka bra inserts.  My kids know what they are and we in this house refer to them as my “boobies.”  Like if I leave them on the counter, Avery is likely to walk up to me with cutlets in hand saying, “Here Mommy, I found your boobies.”  Or something like that. 

That’s the backstory…  Fast forward to just about an hour ago…

I hear Avery in the bathroom making suspicious sounds.  She’s not allowed to play in the bathroom and normally tells me before she goes potty.  So, when she’s in the bathroom without telling me first, it usually means trouble.  With a capital T.

She’s in there with the door shut, banging around and I open the door and ask, “What are you doing in here?”

Avery:  “Nothing.”  *deer caught in headlights look*

Me:  “Nothing, huh?  Then what is that.”  *pointing to the clearish, jelly looking substance smeared all over her cheek and in her hair*

Avery:  “Nothing.”

Me:  “Nothing, huh?  Come here and let me see…”

She walks towards me, eyes wide, turning that side of her face as far away from me as she could, and hands a me a brush.

I inspect the brush and there’s nothing on it…  I automatically assume it’s lotion or vaseline or something.  And that maybe she was brushing it through her hair.  Especially since we played Princess Beauty Shop earlier and put on makeup and did our hair, etc…

Me:  “Avery, what is that on your face???”

Avery:  *more blank stares*  “Nothing.”

Me:  “Well, it’s something.  Please tell me what it is.” 

It almost looked like the gel inside a diaper…  You know, the gel shit that comes out when they explode.  I know I’m not the only one who has let a diaper explode…  Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about…

Avery:  “Reawy, it’s nothing.”  *blank stare*

Me:  “You aren’t in trouble, just show me what it is.”

Avery:  *hesitates*  “Okay…  But, I didn’t mean to do it.”

Oh shit.  This can’t be good, I think.  She leads me into her room and into her closet.  This can’t be good at all.  Hiding in closet to do something = very bad.  She climbs deep into her closet, disappears into the stuffed animals, then emerges holding something…  Something that looks an awful lot like a boob.  Like my boob. 

Me:  “Okay…  Why do you have my boob?  And what is that on your face?  Did you rub lotion on it?” 

I was a bit confused about what part in all of this the boob played… 

Avery:   “It is the boobie, Momma.”

Me:  *blank stare*  “What do you mean?”

Avery:  “On my face.”

Me:  *blank stare*

Avery:  “The boobie just expwoded.”

Me:  “The boobie just exploded.  On your face?”  *more blank stares*

Avery:  *starting to look panicked*  “Well, I didn’t mean for it to expwode, Momma!  I didn’t know!”

Me:  *more blank stares*

Avery:  “I’m sorry, Momma!  I’m sooooo sorry!  I’m sorry I made your boobie expwode!”

Me:  “Okay….  How did my boobie explode?  On your face?  Were you trying to brush my boobie???”

Avery:  “I was laying on it like a piwow.”

Me:  “Okay…  What were you doing with the brush?”

Avery:  “No, no, no.  I was just twying use the bwush to get the boobie off my face.  I didn’t bwush the boobie.  I just layed on the boobie.  You know, like a piwow…”

Me:  “You were using my boobie as a pillow and it just exploded on your face?  And then you were trying to get the boobie off your face with a brush?”

Avery:  *blank stares*

I’m still not sure I buy it.  Any of it…  Who knows what really happened.  She really may have been simply laying her sweet, innocent little head on my boobie and it just exploded on her face, like she said…  Or maybe, since it really does look like a chicken breast, she took it into her closet to play chef and was beating the hell out of it, using the brush as a meat mallet, like she’s seen me do in the kitchen before.  (Okay, that’s a total lie.  I’ve never pounded out a chicken breast for anything in my life.  But, I do watch cooking shows where they do it, and I do in fact own a meat mallet…)  But, most likely, she took the boob, hid in her closet and used the brush to bust it open and then to pry out all of that cool jelly stuff… 

Whatever the real story is, she got really upset.  Especially when I scrubbed her face for ten minutes.  She hates having her face washed.  Hates it.  Plus that meant her makeup was being scrubbed off.  That was punishment enough…

And it literally took ten minutes, if not more, to get that crap off of her.  It was like a layer of gloppy, nasty, clear gelatinous fat stuck to her skin with vaseline.  I gave her the whole “it’s okay, you’re not in trouble, but, you need to remember not to play with things that aren’t toys” and the “those things cost money and you can’t just tear things up” lectures.  She knows how much my boobies mean to me.   She cried even harder saying she was sorry she knows I like them and that she didn’t know they were “spensive.” 

The Mister is going to be disappointed.  Of all the cutlets, these were the most realistic and while inside my bra, they actually felt real…  All warm and jiggly…  I have no clue if I can even find this kind anymore.  They were from Victoria’s Secret and they were purchased a good six or eight years ago… 

RIP, my old friend…  RIP.

Maybe I’ll be getting that boob job sooner rather than later.  Coco, you with me?  Tittiecation here I come…

ETA:  YAY!  I found them.  AND they’re on sale!  I needed new ones anyway…  Mine were looking more like old chicken boobs…  They were getting saggy and a bit wrinkly. 

And just for a visual… 


Don’t they look just like boneless, skinless chicken breasts???  The old ones even had nipples made into them.  Ew, though…  Totally icky looking, right?  You guys know my aversion to raw meat.  Especially chicken.  That makes me want to go wash my breasts and hands.

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Gotz A New Plan, Stan

And it’s to drink less, exercise more.  That’s it.  Sounds simple right?  So why am I scared as hell? 

I am seriously starting today.  No ifs, ands, or buts about it.  No more butts.  Nope.  I’m aiming for no butt at all. 

Today, my goal is to drink nothing.  Or at least no beer.  I can’t have just one.  They’re like Lays potato chips or Pringles.  Or bite-sized candy bars.  Vodka with diet tonic is going to be more of the norm around here at the House of Insanity. 

Okay, got it, less drinking…  Let’s move on to the exercise.  I hate it.  I loathe it.  I play tennis, but I can do that and drink.  Other forms of exercise suck.  Big donkey dicks.  However, I do enjoy walking.  A lot.  And I have the perfect neighborhood to do it in.  It’s not really that hard for me to lose weight, as long as I move my ass.  I can even push the kids in the stroller every day. 

So, no beer, (okay, let’s be realistic, less beer,) more vodka and lots of walking.  Starting today.  TODAY, people.  I’m going to do a daily check in with my progress.  Hold me to it. 

Disgusting muffin top – beer + exercise = svelte and sexy Shannie

Oh yeah, and I totally need to tell you about another new plan. The less beer, more vodka plan is the new new plan.  Let’s call this other older new plan The Win/Win Plan.  (Which needs a better name.)  Old New Plan and New New Plan would just be too confusing.

The Win/Win Plan is totally insane, but oh so brilliant at the same time.  And it’s all the amazingly cunning Dr. G’s idea, so I can only take credit for actually adopting it and rocking it.  Literally.  (You’ll see.)

Anyway, it should be called the Dr. G’s Life Plan To Get What the Hell You Want Whenever You Want It.  But that’s too long, so The Win/Win Plan it is, for now.  You guys can help me come up with something else.  It’s good.  But insanity, people…  INSANITY.

We’ll talk more about this later…  Right now, I need coffee.

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The Witching Hour…

Has begun.  About an hour and a half early today.  Yay.

Why couldn’t my wine shipment come early?

It’s been a great day thus far, it just has the potential for the afternoon to turn south.  Quickly.  However,  I told myself I wasn’t going to drink anything this week in an effort to lose some weight.  I think I’d rather just not eat.  Especially on a day when Henry is clinging to my leg, tantruming to be held and Avery is blowing a recorder and shaking a tambourine while singing as loudly as she can.  She’s a band.  Of course.  Right about time for my quiet afternoon internet time cleanup routine…. 

I am already eyeing the clock waiting for go-time.  I think go-time might make it about 30 minutes early today…  Eh, who needs food.

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Conversations With Avery…

A little history, in case I haven’t mentioned it, among many allergies, we discovered Henry is allergic to chocolate…  It’s not like he’s allergic as in need an epi-pen stat allergic, but certain foods make his severe eczema flare up.  Severe eczema is pretty bad.  So is being allergic to chocolate…  Hopefully, he’ll outgrow it.

So, we have to sneak it where Henry can’t see it.  I gave Avery some chocolate covered pretzels during his very brief nap and she hadn’t quite finished them when he woke up… 

I told her she needed to eat her snack up quickly and come to me to get her mouth wiped…  That she was covered in “you know what…”  You can’t say the word, because he knows it…  And she had chocolate all around her mouth and on her hands.

She gave me this blank look, so I said, “You know what is all over your face.  You need to hurry and come here.”

So she said, with a smirk, “What?  Does that mean Henry’s going to eat my head?”

She’s on a roll lately.  And thinks she’s a little comedian.  Just like her dad.

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I’ve been dreaming of Vampires lots lately, but last night’s dream takes the cake…

We were not only Vampires, we were Vampires at Disney..

Now, if they could only drink booze…  I’d be popping sleeping pills by 7pm.  A drunken romp with Edward in Cinderella’s Castle?  Mmmmm….  Hell, I may be popping them at 6…


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