Why do people turn into such buttheads when they become famous? Someone I knew fairly well years ago went on to become a big fish in his particular pond and on more than one occasion, I have been standing within feet of him, within HEY-I-TOTALLY-KNOW-YOU distance and not a single word of acknowledgment from him.

Of course, I must seem like an asshole to famous people because I won’t fawn all over them—but why should I? If you sit on a toilet every day and take a crap, you’re no better than anyone else. End of story. So I guess being ignored was supposed to be some sort of punishment for my refusal to pee myself over being in his presence?

Whatevs. It was a long time ago. Amongst other things, I now raise children, the future of America—you know, the people who will be wiping our collective asses when we’re old and demented? I just can’t bring myself to care all that much about fame and celebrity.

Anyway, it so happens this person friend-requested me the other day on Facebook. I’m truly dumbfounded because what? NOW you want to be my friend? NOW you want to acknowledge my existence? Seriously?

Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re still a big doucher.

Friend request FAIL!

I’m curious…  Do ya’ll floss?

I do—religiously—and I’m always equal parts horrified and fascinated at what comes out of my teeth AFTER brushing. Seriously…who knew you could cram THAT MUCH stuff in there?

You may recall from my last post that I recently went out with my husband and an assortment of friends for his birthday. Can I just tell you…I saw a disturbing amount of tartar on the teeth of random strangers (and a few old acquaintances, too). Get thee to a dentist and scrape that shit off before you get gum disease, people!

Good dental hygiene is the cornerstone of my existence. I feel like flying around and handing out dental floss to the whole world. And yes, I know that’s a little weird.

Dear Body,

Happy belated Valentine’s Day. Yes, I was being facetious. You know I don’t subscribe to made-up holidays that leave at least half the population sad and depressed that they don’t have someone to give them some Hallmark-mandated love and a red velvet box of chocolates from the local Walgreens. I prefer my consumerism-on-steroids holidays to at least be FUN, like Halloween!

Anyway, I’m writing to let you know that I’m very disappointed in you today. No, it’s not that last seven pounds I’ve been trying to lose for, like, two years—although we do need to discuss that at some point. I’m actually talking about the hangover that you led me to believe I would NOT be having today. What the hell?

I know, I know…I don’t take you out drinking nearly enough and you’re probably not used to it but that’s no excuse for your behavior today. You had fair warning that when we went out to celebrate the huz’s birthday last night (it was a shitload of fun, no?) that it would be a late night. Christ, we had safe, dependable babysitters for the first time in three years (Thank you, MIL and SIL!) that would be keeping our kids overnight. What did you think I was going to do? Drink soda all night?

All things considered, I think I did pretty good. I took a sip of my first beer at 9pm and finished my last around 2:45am. All together, I probably consumed about four or five high quality beers AND I had some pizza. (Yes, I agree that it was ridiculously salty but I was powerless to stop. You know how hungry I get when I drink). Anyway, the point is that I really didn’t go overboard and I don’t think I abused you that badly. In fact, I observed last night, firsthand, what long term alcohol abuse can do to a body and I’m so glad I got married and stopped clubbing and partying in my mid twenties. I could seriously be a poster girl for the virtues of generally clean, albeit mostly exercise-free, living.

But I digress…What I wanted to know is WHY did you lead me to believe this morning that I had escaped the hangover I was fully expecting? Even my prim, proper and very Catholic mother-in-law remarked that we didn’t look hungover when she brought the kids home at noon (NOON!!! God bless that woman!) and other than being a bit fuzzy-headed, I felt great. I didn’t begin to feel betrayed by you until about 3pm when the headache and queasy stomach started to kick in. Eventually, I felt so crappy I had to take to my bed for several hours whilst the huz went to the grocery store, fed the kids AND took them out for ice cream. He’s a fricken rockstar dad and I’m the pathetic mom that’s still hungover at six in the evening.

WHY???

Don’t you know how damaging this was to my self-esteem? How loser-ish it made me feel?

I just don’t understand and I anxiously await your explanation.

Yours in suffering,
Janet

I was going to do the obligatory post-conference recap but really, other than to say I had got loads of lovely sleep, froze my ass off, ate way too much meat, had a lot of fun with my peeps from the “bad” table and beyond, met an awesomelicious new friend, enjoyed all the panels and got some cool stuff, what else is there that would hold your interest for more than two nanoseconds after reading the words “BlissDom09 Conference“? I’m going to take a wild guess and say…not much…because if you were there, you already know it was a good time and if you weren’t, you don’t want to know what you missed and/or don’t care. Am I right?

The REAL unsung hero of Feb 5-8 is my husband. Seriously. Here’s why:

When I got home, my husband had the whole house clean. Like super clean.

And I was a cranky bitch. (in my defense, I started my period the next day)

Anyway, he gets total props because on Friday, he went to lock the door when leaving with the kids and the tumbler and associated screws, springs etc fell right out of the lock and onto the ground. This means he and the kids were locked out. Good times, right?

Before he could fix anything, he had to drop my daughter and son off at a friend’s house to play and then he had to go to Home Depot and get a new lock for the front door.

But before he could get back in the house, he had to break a lock on another door. Then he had to fix the front door lock and then go BACK to Home Depot to get a new (and MUCH BETTER) lock to replace the one he broke while breaking in and then come home and replace that one, too.

Then, same day, he had to pick up the kids, feed them dinner, bundle them up again and take my daughter to a Brownie meeting.

The next day he fixed the dryer which was broken and destined for the curb when I left. I was all ready to begrudgingly throw down for a new one but after some fiddling and general asspainery, he fixed it…for THIRTY BUCKS.

And then he cleaned the house so I wouldn’t have to come home to a disaster.

He dealt with all of that lock business without losing his shit AND fixed my dryer AND cleaned the house AND both kids were in tip top shape…no limbs missing or stitches or anything.

My husband rocks.

Thanks babe, just in case you’re reading this (even though you know you’re not allowed to read my blog :)

Oh. Mygod. I have to blog about this demented, idiotic woman that I encountered today, if only to be vindicated by the very smart and attractive people of the internet. I’ll try to keep it brief (although it bears repeating that brevity has never been my strong suit.)

Okay, so I’m driving down a neighborhood street and on the opposite side of the street, all these construction worker people have parallel parked their trucks so that lane is effectively blocked. As I get about halfway down the street, this car comes swinging out from behind one of the parked cars down the block and proceeds to come right at me. Not stopping. Just driving right up to my bumper.

Of course, I have stopped because I cannot comprehend the douchebaggery before my eyes. And, well, because I really don’t want to have a head on collision with the douchemobile speeding towards me. So there we are, bumper to bumper and the woman starts honking her horn over and over and gesturing to me that I should back up and I’m stunned that someone would actually have the nerve to demand I move when they are clearly in the wrong.  So naturally my response is something along the lines of “No fricken way! YOU back up!”

The logic behind my thinking is this… They are driving the wrong way in MY lane. I am in my lane, on the RIGHT side of the street and going in the proper direction. THEY are trying to pass parked cars and they are supposed to wait until the opposite lane is free of traffic, just like you would pass on ANY two lane road. Am I right?

So anyway, this crazy biznitch starts yelling and screaming and cussing at me and then she’s all “I have all day! I’m not moving!”  And I lean out the window and I’m like “YOU are in the wrong lane so YOU are supposed to move. Anyone who actually knows how to drive knows that!”

And she proceeds to scream at me “There are parked cars in my lane! Expletive! Expletive Expletive!” And I go “That’s not my problem! You’re not supposed to drive into oncoming traffic, you moron!”  And she blares her horn some more, like 40 times, and yells and screams and flips me off and says she’s going to kick my ass. This is a fifty something year old woman with a handicapped thing on her mirror so, of course, this makes me laugh, which just pisses her off more. Then her male passenger chimes in and starts cussing at me, too. Great. Now it’s crazy times 2.

At this point, there are now cars behind me and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, which I didn’t. So we sit there having this little standoff and I really just want to get out of my car and do something violent to her because my ice cream is starting to melt and it’s getting close to school dismissal time and I’m starting to feel a bit anxious. I don’t DO anxious. Not well, anyway.

But now I can’t move in either direction so I finally call the non-emergency police dispatch and a few minutes later a very annoyed cop comes, tells her she has to move because she’s in the wrong lane and tells me I shouldn’t taunt crazy people (I was taunting HER???) because 50% of drivers in Florida are carrying guns.

Oh.  *wondering why I am not part of that 50%*

By then the cars behind me have all backed up and left, so just to cheese her off, I back up and leave down a side street.

HA HA HAAAAA you crazy effing beeyotch! I was right and you were wrong! I was right and you were wrong!

(Leaving for Nashville/BlissDom tomorrow so this will be my last missive until probably Monday. You guys be good and keep the riff raff outta here for me, okay?)