Ahhh the Holidays......

Ahhh the holidays.

That special time of year where everyone debates the true meaning of Christmas and criticizes everyone else's choice of words as they attempt to spread holiday cheer.

As if when someone says "Happy Holidays" they obviously mean "fuck Jesus" and can't possibly be saying "hey, enjoy this time of year which includes Christmas and New Years and also other holidays like Hanukkah and Kwanza."

The Jesus is the Reason for the Season and Keep Christ in Christmas posts as well as the I say Merry Christmas and so should you or you're going to hell memes are as entertaining as ever. Funny thing is that, even though I'm not particularly religious, I have always mostly said Merry Christmas. Sometimes I do say happy holidays, not for fear of insulting someone, but I think this time of year is magical and not just about Christmas. We have Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years back to back and I kind of lump them all together in one greeting. Plus there's Yom Kippur, Hanukkah, Kwanza and Chinese New Year. I'm too lazy to call them each by name. As a matter of fact, if I were Santa, I would probably simply yell "yo, reindeer, let's go!"

Sadly, this year's proper holiday greeting argument was overshadowed by the tragedy in Connecticut. I won't even offer my two cents or chime in on the issue. It's simply a horrific tragedy that should never have happened and we are all forever scarred because of it.

But the holidays wouldn't be the holidays if people weren't arguing about something. You know what I'm talking about. If it's not the which in-laws to spend the holidays with debate, it's the how much to spend on the kids, or we're getting a Frazier fir this year because last year you got to pick the Noble and it's my turn. (The last one was mine and Wiener's annual argument for years. True story.) 

So this year's holiday-time hot button argument is gun control. I won't delve too much into this either as it gets me fired up, no pun intended, but I will say this: My 'conservative' friends are saying "it's my second amendment right to bear arms, you can't take that away" and "the answer is to put God back in schools." My 'liberal' friends are saying "let's talk about the issue and open a dialogue about mental health and gun safety and look into options to preventing further tragedies." 

I haven't seen any posts calling for a ban on guns. Not that people aren't saying that, I just haven't seen them. Frankly, I have no problem with people owning guns. I would just like to see some more safeguards like mandatory gun safety and training classes, required licensing and registration and required gun safes for all owners. But I would also like to pee without a toddler and pre-teen audience and I don't see anyone rushing to make that dream a reality either.

I have more holiday fodder to share with you but I will save it for another post. The natives are getting restless, and by natives I mean the evil minions, and by restless I mean they are arguing about fruit. And by fruit I do not mean vodka soaked melon balls which I so wish I had right now.

Fucking Christmas Cards

Every year people try to create the perfect Christmas card, displaying their angelic children or how wonderful their lives are. In recent years the trend of sending photo cards has gone to the extreme. To some it is a competition of who has the most artful pictures on the most luxurious paper. To others it's an opportunity to brag about their lives and children in one of those dreaded holiday letters. Gone are the days of simply picking up a cute pack of cards at the drug store and scribbling a quick note then mailing them.

I don't know why, but every year I think it will be so quick and easy to take a snapshot of the minions and slap it on a pre-made design then, voila! Pick them up at Walgreen's and go. That's much easier said than done.

This year's card fiasco began when I decided to throw dresses on the girls and run into the yard for a quick photo shoot. We spend a few minutes brushing hair and applying a few curls for an extra finishing touch. Fifi adds a dab of lip gloss for the perfectly polished pout, then we head outside.

I'm by no stretch of the imagination a photographer, but with my handy DSLR camera and some fancy dresses on the kids, the pictures are usually pretty good. Unless one is sick and every picture features a huge snot string dangling down her nose and the other is grumpy and uncooperative because she doesn't like sitting in the yard with the bugs.

Devil Baby won't look at the camera and Fifi is trying to do her version of the coy cocked-head model smile, which just makes her look like she's having some sort of seizure. When Devil Baby does look towards me for a split second, Fifi is distracted by an invisible flying bug. When Fifi finally flashes her normal gorgeous, glowing smile, Devil Baby throws her head into Fifi's lap and starts sucking her thumb. I get upset, yell profanities ('tis the season), the kids start pouting, I snap some pics of the pouty faces and threaten to put them on the cards, the kids start giggling and finally I capture the perfect giggly, smiley picture reserved for the best Norman Rockwell paintings. Except for the snot string. Damn it!

When I finally have one or two pictures worthy of center stage on my card I peruse the designs at Shutterfly. I create two or ten of my favorite layouts. Then I cannot decide which one I like best. Wiener, of course, does not like any of my selections- we have very different tastes. I flip flop on the designs and can't pick one. Maybe I'll order two or three different layouts. But how to decide who to send which one to? I delay some more and the coupon codes expire. Do I need to spend this much on stupid Christmas cards, I wonder? I throw together some designs on the Walgreen's site, but I love the look of the matte paper instead of the glossy.

Jeezus, you'd think my house would be immaculate as anal retentive as I'm being about fucking Christmas cards that people will glance at for two seconds and toss in the trash. Maybe I'll just scrap the whole concept of sending out Christmas cards. This way I'll have more cash to spend on what's really important this time of year. That's right, vodka. You know me so well...

Some features must be changed to protect the innocent.
 See, I wasn't lying about the snot string.
Now she looks like a bandit zombie with a snot string.

How Kids Ruin Your Day

No one really tells you kids ruin your life. They may tell you how much things will change and how hard it will be. But we know those sentiments are mostly ignored.

Someone needs to start an in your face boot camp for doe-eyed expecant parents and slap some sense into them so they really know what it will be like.

I had lunch today with some of my wine o'clock moms and we were discussing how one of their siblings was handling being a new parent. CeeCee explained that the first time parents hadn't been alone with the new baby until he was at least five weeks old. They had grandmas and relatives from both sides staying with them for weeks on end and even persuaded one grandma to come back from out of state for several more weeks. Now this was as normal of a delivery as there can be- no major medical issues, etc. The new parents were just completely overwhelmed with their new little bundle, expecting him to arrive potty trained and sleeping through the night. Bahahahaaahaa!

Point is, no matter how ready you think you are, how much advice you receive or reading you do will prepare you for the harsh reality that smacks you in the face once the demon spawn spring from your loins. And it's not just the initial hell of post childbirth that is stitches and ice packs and goo oozing from everywhere, it's how your life is irreversibly changed for all of eternity.    

In other words, it's not just a few sleepless nights and babyproofing. Some things to consider before having kids:

You will no longer be able to have sushi and vodka lunches at your whim.

You will not sleep for at least 20 years, if even then.

Your home will NEVER be clean. And if it is, stop taking your kid's ADHD meds.

They piss and shit everywhere.

They do not pick up after themselves.

You will become a referee for deathboxing matches.

They don't fucking listen.

You will never have a shred of privacy again.

You will become suddenly embarrassed of your body as they will say things like 'you have a hairy butt' or 'you have poo poo' when referring to your private bits.

Now before you send me hate mail calling me a cold heartless bitch, please know that I love my evil minions with all my heart. But that doesn't change the fact that they can be fucking annoying and are the primary reason I'm developing a drinking problem. Wine softens the blow.

I used to have a life.
Then  I had kids.

Poop Rage

So I must have eaten five times my weight in turkey with trimmings this Thanksgiving because I can't seem to get out of the bathroom. Gross, huh! Not that I have an upset stomach, it's the regular type of number two, just a lot of it. TMI?

Lest you think I'm only good for complaining about political hi-jinks, I felt it necessary to share some non political fodder.  

When not raging, I strive to find humor in everyday life. Kids are especially good at saying ridiculous things that are easy to make fun of. Just be sure to do it behind their backs (or on an anonymous public blog for all the world to see) to save them from embarrassment.

Here are some recent musings:

While out with Fifi, we passed a big dude on a Harley whose bike was adorned with metal rivets. It was very bad ass. Fifi said "omgosh his motorcycle is bedazzled." Thank God the windows were up.

The other day I was driving with Devil Baby when she asked me something that I swear was "let's go to the liquor store."  Turns out she wanted me to sing twinkle twinkle little star.  I was quite disappointed. 

Fifi announced the other day that a girl should always be cuter than their husband or boyfriend so he'll never leave HER. She also said "a boyfriend that has a sense of humor and can make you laugh- now that's the killer." And that she hates "clingy boys." Jeez. Where does she get these things? I feel sorry for the poor bastard that marries her already.

Devil Baby is very into poop and butt humor these days. She likes to call people "poo poo booty face." She also likes to threaten to "I fawt on you!" Totally hilarious. I don't know where she gets her potty mouth.

Poor kid. Must have gone potty after I was in there-
hence the noxious fumes.

Also my dear, sweet, aging cat decide to take a ginormous dump on one of our formal dining chairs the day before Thanksgiving. I was worried she might be getting sick or have a terminal illness as this has never happened before. But since it was a one time thing, I decided she must be jealous of all the time I have been spending in the bathroom. Either that or she was staking her claim to her place at the dinner table, because no one wants to sit in that chair now no matter how many times it has been scrubbed with harsh abrasive chemicals.

Well played evil cat, well played.

Yep, Everyone's Still Stupid

Well the big Presidential election is over, so it is somewhat safe to venture back onto social media. Or so I thought. 

The first few days following the election, everyone was busy complaining about people on welfare and the throngs of moochers living on the government's dime. I wonder if they realize trying to get as many questionable tax breaks as they can or claiming a personal receipt at a restaurant was a "business dinner, hardy har har" is basically the same thing as what some welfare recipients do- they're both taking advantage of the system for their benefit and financial gain. But since they have jobs I guess their self entitlement super cedes anyone else's need for basic food and shelter.

And now residents of my home state, among others, are leading the charge and asking for secession from the United States since they do not like or agree with election results or some of the programs and laws the government has put into place. I guess they don't realize how much we rely on the US government for funding and support and we will in essence become the very same scourge of society and aliens they complain about.

True post on my Facebook feed.
Maybe they learned English at a college or something and not the
 middle school she maybe dropped out of after being knocked up.
At least she's honest enough to call herself by what she is.

With that I shall once again withdraw into a post election buffer zone waiting for the self righteous and entitled to cool their jets. I only hope when Texas becomes its own nation I can still get my hands on some fine Russian vodka without paying exorbitant taxes, because I would not be down with throwing my Cape Cod into the Gulf of Mexico and calling it the Mexico Vodka Party. That would just be a waste.