Crimson Tidal Wear

Dear People, 

WTF is wrong with you? That's a rhetorical question because I'm pretty sure you don't have the faintest idea what your problem is...

On two separate shopping excursions in the last six months I came across a pair of (oh how shall I put this delicately) sullied ladies undergarments. Or in other words, for those who don't speak gentile southern slang, period bloodied underwear. That is correct. Underwear. With. Period. Blood. On. Them. Hanging on a rack for sale. Technically, one was a bathing suit bottom, but for argument's sake we'll say it is an undergarment of sorts.

So I get that no underwear brand fits the same and sometimes you need a trial run. Not everyone chooses to wear holey underwear from 1996 like me in order to avoid having to find a new brand that is comfortable. But do people (women) really try on underwear while in the throws of their monthly bloody curse? At the most, one should buy the underwear that will be the most likely to fit and take it home and if it doesn't work, return it or use it as a car washing chamois. At the least, one should never, ever, ever and perhaps even NEVER try on under-things while they are on their period unless they double and triple check there is no chance of leakage. And even then, they should probably just not try on undergarments at that time of the month, period.

And then what if it does happen? You are stealthily trying on unmentionables during the visit from your monthly flow. (My god, people, it only lasts a few days- can't the panty shopping wait?) You feel confident that your super- plus absorbent tampon is fresh and ready to keep absorbing the flow for a few more hours. Then you look down and WHAM! There's a splotch of blood on the white granny panties you just tried on. Oh. Snap. What do you do? You take a deep breath and think "It's cool, I got this." As you gingerly slip the panty back onto its delicate plastic hanger, you wait for the person in the next stall to leave so you can exit the dressing room un-noticed. You quickly glance around the store as you exit the stall and make a graceful beeline back to the underwear rack and casually hang it a few items back. There! Operation Avoid Embarrassing Bloody Mess successfully executed.

I get that confessing and taking the item you ruined to the front and sheepishly paying for it is something reserved for those of us with steel ladyballs. But actually going through the motions of placing the item on a hanger and displaying it back on the rack in all of its crimson glory is just beyond all measure of comprehension. Do you think someone will actually want to buy it? Maybe they'll get an extra discount since it's a damaged item. Actually, you probably did the next customer a favor and saved them a few bucks. How thoughtful of you.  

While I haven't done extensive or even any research at all on this (I'm simply pulling these figures out of my ass) I would say 4 out of 5 women who encountered this situation would leave the item balled up on the floor under a pile of other items and high tail it directly out of the store without making eye contact or conversation with another human being for the next several hours. But then again, these 4 women would also probably not being trying on undergarments during the menses in the first place. It's pretty much gotta be that 1 woman going from store to store every month trying on undies. 

Bloody Granny Panties front and center. 

I was not shopping for these underwear.
The blood on the white undies caught my eye. Swear.

Oh maybe they won't notice the blood
since the bathing suit is red. Not.

Clean up on aisle five.

And while bleeding on new underwear in a department store is pretty gross, it is not lost on me that I was the person taking pictures of other people's blood on undergarments in a department store. I never said I wasn't crazy.

More Devil Baby Serial Killer

It's been a while since I've shared any children fodder so I thought I'd update you on a few of Devil Baby's recent antics.

Devil Baby's handy work.

One night, she had a group of four small Disney characters in the bathtub with her. Mickey, Minnie, Goofy and Pete. I'm sitting in there with her, minding my own business, when I look over and she has them all submerged in a tupperware dish full of water and bubbles trapped under something heavy to hold them down. As I watched her "play" she was talking to them and I swear to God she growled "you'll never get out again, mwahahaha." Poor Mickey and the gang. 

When picking Devil Baby up from school one afternoon the teacher told me an interesting story. She said a boy in her class slept past the end of nap time and the teacher gently tried to coax him awake with no luck. Devil Baby then said to the teacher "he's dead." I of course, found this hilarious though somewhat disturbing, but I had to keep my composure in class as she tells me she then had to explain to Devil Baby "no honey, he's not dead, just super tired." Oops.

You better sleep with one eye open, Timmy...

One afternoon while helping me put away dishes, and by helping me, I mean helping her sister because ain't no-one got time for dishes, Devil Baby grabbed some tongs and walked up to me and said "I'm going to cut your brains out."

Which brings me to one night while putting her to bed and snugging while singing goodnight songs like you are my sunshine and itsy bitsy spider, Devil Baby leaned over and said "I'm going to eat your brains." Too much Walking Dead perhaps?

Shut your wine hole mom,
I'm fucking cleaning! 

And finally, this is less about Devil Baby becoming a serial killer and more of a cautionary tale about using profanities around your kids so often they begin to think swear words are every day adjectives. I caught Devil Baby in the bathroom with a bottle of windex and paper towels. I asked her what she was doing and she said as clear as day "I'm fucking cleaning." Excellent. Apparently, as everyone messes things up around the house after I have cleaned, I have the tendency to yell "What are you doing?! I just fucking cleaned that!" Or "Stop throwing water all over the bathroom Wiener, I was in here all day fucking cleaning." Well, as long as they're helping I guess I don't care what they fucking call it! 

Happy Anniversary Wiener- Unless You're Gay, Then We Can't Be Married...

If you oppose same sex marriage, this
video may change your mind.

Wiener and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary a few weeks ago. Damn I feel old. It happened right around the time the Supreme Court was discussing same sex marriage. In light of that, I felt compelled to share my thoughts...

We have been married 17 years, been together for 20, and it is FUCKING HARD. During the course of our marriage there have been the good and bad times. We have been blissfully happy, wanted to murder each other and wanted to throw in the towel. But we made it this far.

We don't need a piece of paper to tell us we are married or to let others know we are committed and love each other.

But apparently you DO need a piece of paper to be treated equally in the eyes of the law. For example- regarding filing taxes jointly, covering one another on health insurance, addressing parental issues and even visiting a sick or dying partner in the hospital.

There are some that say marriage is between a man and a woman and God. To that I say- not anymore. And we made it that way. We as a nation have evolved to a place where marriage is more about different withholding rates, child income credits and astronomical health insurance premiums than the original intention of merging families for a dowry and procreating. If two people love each other and are dedicated to spending their lives together through the good, bad, ugly and fucking hard times, who are we to say no? No, you aren't good enough to reap these benefits. How dare we?

Why is it ok for men and women to marry and divorce and treat marriage like a disposable novelty, reaping benefits of marriage only to turn around and destroy each other in divorce with hate and child custody battles and evading child support? To be fair, many marriages are successful, but why are so many allowed to make mockery of it with divorce and spiteful antics while other dedicated, loving couples aren't given a chance simply because they share the same anatomy?

If your child wanted to try out for a team and was told no because she is a girl, you would scream sexism. Not equal. If you thought your ethnicity prevented you from accomplishing something, you would scream racism. Not equal.  If you were told you couldn't vote because you are a woman, marry because you are white and your fiance is black, sit in a diner with people of other races and ethnicities or sit where you please on a freaking bus, you would say---> N O T   E Q U A L!!!   How can we claim liberty and justice for all while intentionally excluding a group of citizens from being allowed to participate in and benefit from the laws of our nation?

Fortunately, history is on the side of people fighting in support of same sex marriage. It is the natural progression of things. It is the right thing to do. Allowing same sex couples to marry will not impact my marriage in any way. If anything, I feel a sense of shame that I am privy to rights that my fellow humans are not.

Word to your mother.

Still, some oppose it and mostly cite religious beliefs. And if that's how they feel and they think same sex marriage is wrong, or being gay altogether is wrong, that's their right to believe. But let's not forget this country was founded by people who wanted to practice religion as they wished- so why is it not ok to persecute them for their religious beliefs, but it is ok to persecute people for their feelings and deny them their inalienable human and civil rights? IT'S NOT OK. You can't have it both ways. Perhaps there needs to be biblical marriage for all those who view marriage as a religious union between man, woman and God and legal marriage for those who want government recognition and equality in tax filings and insurance coverage, etc. Those choosing a biblical marriage can keep their godly union, but pay the higher single tax rate and not reap any lawful benefits.

There is separation of church and state specifically so these types of issues don't arise. So religious rules and beliefs do not guide lawful and government decisions to negatively impact our citizens. And that's something traditional marriage proponents don't understand. They don't have a say in the matter. The constitution provides them with freedom of religion and to believe as they choose- it does not provide them with the right to define marriage to our lawmakers.

Making this point even more- churches do not pay any taxes. No federal or local taxes on their income. No property taxes on their churches or fellowship halls. All these mega-churches building huge, obnoxious buildings on vast amounts of land, filling them with state of the art electronics and technologies, paying celebrities and the like to speak and entice more followers into the church.... pay no taxes. Yes, pastors and church employees pay income tax on any salaries they receive, but as an organization, income received or properties owned are not taxable. So why then are church organizations allowed to lobby and dictate to our government what laws and rights its citizens are entitled to? Last time I checked, citizens paid income and property taxes to the government so shouldn't they be entitled to the same rights as the rest of the nation's residents?

And while we are on the subject of taxes- income tax was not implemented until 1913, so really before then one could argue marriage was primarily a religious union. But fast forward 100 years to 2013 and we now have more people marrying in civil ceremonies such as at the Justice of the Peace and by non-religious affiliated individuals certified by law to marry couples, with no mention of God or religion whatsoever. So with this information alone (people marrying in non religious-civil ceremonies) the argument can no longer be made that marriage is solely a godly union.

And I know it sounds like I'm raging on religion and churches. That's not my intention- my intention is to use satire and sarcasm to show how hypocritical and ridiculous the fact that two people who want to marry (and receive lawful recognition and benefits) cannot marry primarily because a large group says it is against their beliefs. God forbid the Atheists start trying to get rid of churches and religion stating it is against their beliefs.

So here's hoping the near future will bring true equality to all citizens and humanity. Because I'm all for equal rights and I love the idea of more people joining my personal hell also known as marriage. Suckers! 

Our Anniversary Cake. Run Wiener, run! 

Random Wiener

So this isn't a real post. I have many things I am working on but haven't found the time to fine tune them. And who can blame me with my wine drinking and avoiding laundry schedule? It's madness.

But I wanted to post something just for the hell of it so it doesn't look like I've abandoned the blog entirely. I promise to be back with some lengthier posts soon. 

That said, I am always entertained by Wiener (not that he's trying, I just contort everything he says and does into something amusing with my sick, twisted sense of humor) so I thought I would pick on him a bit more. If he doesn't like it, he needs to stop saying such overtly gay and entertaining things.

During the Superbowl there was an ad featuring super hot shirtless guys with ripped abs. Wiener said, "Dayum! - Calvin Klein ALWAYS gets the sexy guys." okayyyy???

Wiener's random thought: "I'd love to be a jewelry designer." Maybe not gay, but certainly not macho.

One chilly February day Wiener announced: "It's freezing in here. My balls just went up my ass." Wow.

And finally, here are some interesting texts from Wiener regarding our back to back ER visits in January. Me for my back and him for the flu. He just might be starting to catch on to this whole sense of humor thing. And of course I will be taking full credit.

Well played, Wiener. The student may
soon become the master. 

Way to rub it in. Let's see how fast
I share my pain meds next time your
kidney stones flare up.

Bloody Valentine

Sometimes Valentine's Day needs to FUCK OFF. And that title is not a hint about my monthly cycle, although the rage I am in could be due to estrogen build up of an impending time of the month episode.

I usually treat Valentine's Day like most others. Nothing special and I don't have any high expectations for sweeping romantic gestures or picture perfect plans. But sometimes shit just happens on Valentine's Day that makes me want to scream WHAT. THE. FUCK.

For instance a few years ago... Wait. Belay that. More like 10 years ago since Fifi wasn't born yet. I had made reservations for Wiener and I to enjoy a romantic Italian dinner then go home and open cards and have chocolate and snuggle time. When I got home from work in the late afternoon before him, I was greeted by a flood of water pouring out of the garage as I opened the door. Long story short, our water heater had overflown and was flooding water from the ceiling in the attic down to the hall and out the garage. Because who DOESN'T keep their hot water heater in the attic of a one story house so it can nearly fall through the ceiling and flood the entire house ruining every single shred of flooring and requiring its replacement? Everyone should experience this because it is such fun!

Fast forward several years later and I can't really think of any major Valentine's Day issues, but I do recall a few being just sucky in general for no particular reason. And today is no exception. I swear I didn't have any high hopes or even really care that it was Valentine's Day. Maybe the day I was born the February 14 gods were just like " for this one, every February 14 will be a shitastic day from henceforth." I did not get that memo.

So here we are today and I'm in an especially pissy mood due to some personal family stuff, which I shan't go into and whine about, but the icing on the cake is this: Transferring the kids laundry from the washer to the dryer, I come across some slimy gelatinous material which I quickly realize is the remnants of an old pull-up that must have gotten left in the hamper and thrown in the wash. Good times. NOT. So here I am spending Valentine's Day elbow deep in slimy goo that I can only hope will easily clean out of the washer and wash off the clothes, but I'm not holding my breath.

And when I'm done there, I guess I'll start slaving over the Valentine's Day dinner for my loving family who I'm sure will scarf it all down before I have nary a bite then begin demanding dessert. Ungrateful bastards.

Happy Fucking Valentine's Day, y'all!

Aw Yeah...