Girlz Gone Wild? (Or just an idiot…)

Well, I’ve had one hell of a Girls’ Night Out.  It’s been a blast…  We’ve had so much fun!  Funny stories, good times, a few vodka tonics…  Pedicures, pajamas and some running into cars… 

Yep…  Pajamas and “some running into cars”…

Because that’s what we call a good girls’ night out, bitch.  Hellz yeaaaaah. 

(Dana – where are you?!?!)

Did you really get that?  Yeah.  Some literally running into some parked carz… Good timez.  Hellz yeaaaaaah.

Nothing says girls’ night out like when you have to call your husband and say, “Honey, um….  I went to get some beer and took off the side of Laura’s car…”

No… LITERALLY!

ETA: 

UPDATE FROM THE VILLAGE IDIOT…

The above post is all true.  The Mister is out of town, and Laura came over to hang out and spend the night (you know, to help keep the boogie man away…  because she’d be oh so helpful if he did come…)  I seriously was heading to the store last night after the kids went to bed, hopped in my car, starting backing out and heard “CAAAARRRRRUUUUNNNNNNCH.”

I hit her car.  In my very own driveway.  Now that’s a Girls’ Night. 

Laura’s car:

My car (my NEW car):

The Mister is going to just loooove this.

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Still Being Puked On…

Just wanted you to know I’m still here.  I haven’t run away.  Yet.  (Poor Henry.)

Thank you, Dr. G, for the “mother’s little helper.”  Could you hear my eye twitching over the phone?  I hate to deplete your supply, even by one, on the very day your little Princess has a tonsillectomy.  (But, not enough to not take you up on the offer.)  I’ll supply you with wine.  Or vodka.  Or both.

That’s what friends are for. 

Here’s to the little man being spew free tomorrow and to Princess Sophie’s speedy recovery. 

Or we’ll need a lot more booze and pills…

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Happy Tuesday…

Nothing says fun like a puking two-and-a-half-year-old.  Add a little diarrhea to the mix and you’ve got yourself a party.

Thanks, Mom.

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Happy ERD!

That would be a giant ass cup full of The Vodka.  With diet tonic, so just like drinking water…  Because my self-induced bought with anorexia has commenced and is in full swing.

 

Happy Friday, guys!  Crazy is coming to town, oops, I mean Mom (for the weekend…, I need a lot more vodka…,) and the Mister and I are going O-U-T tonight.  We were going to a schmancy dinner, but we rescheduled that for next week and are going to the movies instead.  I cannot wait!   (Although, don’t tell the Mister this, but lobster and a nice bottle of wine sounds waaaay better than Avatar…)  

Tonight, though, I’m thinking I won’t be the only one that’ll need to get piss poor drunk knock the edge off with some hooch.  Crazy Mom will probably need a heaping help of alcohol to go along with her pills…  She’s going to have my three, one of which is Hurricane Henry, and my ten-year-old nephew, who Avery bugs the ever living shit out of constantly to play Princess with her…  She really quit babysitting when I had two, much less THREE…  Then throw a fourth in there?!?!  And a fourth that, for some reason, doesn’t want to play Princess with my Princess obsessed four-and-a-half-year-old… 

Oh.MY.GOD. the woman will be a wreck.  It would not surprise me to find her in a pill-induced stupor wandering the neighborhood in a tiara when we get back home. 

Hope you all have an ultra, super fab weekend!  Because I’m gonna try my damndest…  Maybe she’ll fork over some happy pills.

Now, let me get back to the business at hand…  The Vodka.

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And the Dumbass of the Day Award Goes To Me…

I blew the category away…  About like Shaun White did in the snowboarding half-pipe last night…

Are you ready for this?

I don’t think you are…

Wait for it…  Wait for it…

……………..

…………….

…………….

Okay…  Ready?

I went out in public with my pants on backwards. 

Let that sink in for a moment….

……………..

…………….

…………….

Yes.  I went out in public with my pants on backwards.   Read that sentence again and visualize it…  Who does that?!?!  (Except maybe Mema.  She’s taking to eating everything with a spoon these days, by the way…  Hamburger?  Eat it with a spoon…  Crackers?  Try to pick them up and eat the crumbly mess with a spoon…  Sandwich?  No problem, dig a whole in the middle of it with a spoon…)  At least they were pull on pants.  If they had had a zipper, that’d be seriously messed up. 

I kept thinking all morning they felt funny…  Got home, walked by the mirror to check out my unusually large ass and saw front pockets.  They’re jeans (maternity,  still….,) so they have very defined pockets.  When I lifted up my shirt to check out the front, with a “What the????” expression on my face, there were the back pockets.  It was a nice look.

I’m retarded.   

P.S.  And for some good reads, and a blast from Where Is My Mind past, here are some more Mema stories for ya.  Enjoy.  Be sure to click the link in the body of this entry as well.  Bless her heart.  She’s really bad now.  It’s amazing how fast her dementia has progressed.  Even her doctor says that he’s never seen a patient go down hill so quickly.  It’s hard to imagine that next month, she may not have a clue who I am.

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Liquid Courage…

In a tipsy, late night computer session, I did something a little bizarre…  But, something that I’ve always wanted to do…  I sent in an application to a local paranormal investigation team. 

Those of you that have read my blog long enough know my love for all things paranormal and my spooky experiences in the house and elsewhere…  It has always, always fascinated me.  

But…  What if they call?!?!?  Holy shit.  I’d be so excited, but how funny would that be?!?!  I would be shocked as hell if I got a response.  And I haven’t even told the Mister…   He’s going to laugh his ass off.  And I can see my father-in-law’s face now.  “You joined WHAT?”  He’s of the old Southern school of anything new-fangled or new-age is sort of ridiculous.  If Mema didn’t have dementia, I’m sure it would give her a heart attack.  Anything paranormal or occultish freaks her the fuck out.  Or used to…  Poor thing.  Harry Potter used to freak her out.  Seriously.  Good thing I’ve rarely shared my views on the paranormal or any “occult” issues with her.  She would have had me on her church’s prayer list so fast, my head would spin.

We’ll see what happens.  Shannie, The New Ghost Buster.  Maybe I could get my own show.  The drunken ghost detective…  It could work.  A bit of tipsy humor mixed in with paranormal research…  Maybe Haunted Happy Hour…  Or, Spirits with Shannie…  Yes?

I’ll keep you posted. 

P.S.  I’ve got the Disney post all written out, I just have to go through the few little pictures, only a thousand, I have and pick some out.  It may take me another day or two.  Especially after my Fat Tuesday GNO.  Joie de vivre, my friends!  CHEERS!

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Happy Valentine’s Day!

And as a special Day of Love treat, please see yesterday’s post. 

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 V

A little eye candy for you.  Some sweetness.  Some yummy goodness…  Something to make you go “Mmmm….” 

We don’t really do much for Valentine’s Day.  We give the kids a little something and do cards, that’s about it.  Not a big day for celebration in the Shannie Household.  (But, a very good excuse to drink some wine…)  Sometimes I might decorate for the kids.  However, having just gotten back from Disney and returning home to a freak winter snow storm (in SOUTH GEORGIA,) we have done no V-tine’s shopping. 

So…………………..  We are considering telling the kids that Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.  We can get out today and buy up all the half-priced candy and pick over the shitty cards that are left.  But, at least we’ll have something. 

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to drool over yesterday’s post. 

Hope you all have the Valentine’s Day you wish for.  Maybe Robward will show up on my doorstep wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and that sexy crooked smile.  Mmmmmm…..  One can dream.

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You’re Welcome…

P.S.  Stay tuned for the Disney play-by-play.

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Disney or Bust…

Or maybe Disney AND bust…

My mother-in-law and I are soooo planning on doing this. 

Tomorrow, my friends, we leave!  I cannot freaking WAIT.  I still have a zillion, trillion and one million things to do to get us ready to get the hell out of here, though.  Packing a family of five, one of which is a baby, requiring a whole house full of baby paraphernalia, is going to prove to be a bit tricky.  The Big Bitch will be packed to the gills.  We’re gonna look like the Clampetts. 

(Now I can’t get the Beverly Hillbillies theme song out of my head.  Guess it could be worse…  I could be singing  that “Taxi, taxi…  Riding in the backseat…  Roll the window up, roll the window down…”  song.  You moms know what I’m talking about…  Oh, shit.  Now I am singing it…)

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