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...

The Vegas Curse

I have spent the last week in a narcotic induced haze and I am just now piecing together all the details to share with you. I fear some parts may be true, while other memories a product of my hallucinatory imagination. But before you get all judgy and call Dr. Drew, you should know that the narcotics were legit and prescribed to me. For the most part.

January 11, 2013- a handful of friends and I were to depart on a weekend of debauchery in Las Vegas to celebrate multiple 40th birthdays. Not mine, of course, as I am the youngest of the gang. (I will be mentioning this a lot. Get used to it.) I was to leave with everyone Friday and Wiener was to join us Saturday for one night.

A week prior to our departure I slightly hurt my back while doing some minor housework- vacuuming etc. Now you know why my general rule of thumb is to never do housework and to stick to the bon bons and champagne. I had a week to recover and by the time the 11th rolled around I was good to go.

We made it to the airport on time. Wiener took us all in Lola's giant black XL SUV. Because that's how she likes things. Baby D, Lola, Pepe and I met Raquel and her husband Jake at the airport. I promptly tossed back a Valium with a vodka-cranberry chaser, 9:30 am be damned. I hate to fly. Despite statistics, I'm pretty sure it's still a 50/50 chance you'll make it alive to your destination.

Cheating death, we arrived and tried to check into the hotel. We had to wait until 3 pm so we wandered around. Once in our suite that we were sharing frat-house style, we relaxed until it was time to get ready to go to da club. Yes, I said da club. I'm not forty yet so I can say that. Lola had a local friend who got us the hookup with VIP entry, a table and bottle service. Da club did not open until 10:30, so we had plenty of time to get ready. As the hours passed, we began to question why it opened so late and if we could stay awake until then and considered calling it off. 

Word.

But that night was Lola's 40th so we had to soldier on. We got to the the hotel where the club was a bit early and enjoyed some gambling and cocktails while we waited for it to open. This gave the cigar chain smoking Asian next to us (I can say Asian- Wiener's got some Asian in him) the opportunity to send me over a drink that was most assuredly roofied and stop by to say, "That drink is for you because you're my Vegas girl." Okaaay? I frantically spent the next ten minutes trying to dispose of the roofied concoction without looking like an ungrateful bitch. Sticking it on the floor under the table was the perfect solution. As we left, he blew me a kiss and by the time I saw him heading towards us again standing near the bathroom I was in full Taken  panic mode convinced he was seeing if the roofie kicked in and he was ready to whisk me away to be sold into sex slavery to his Sheik boss. Why does this always happen to me? More on the Sheik another time. But I foiled his villainous plan and we made our way to the club.

In the club there was some wildly inappropriate and awesome behavior that I cannot share because of some bullshit rule about what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I can report that lap dances were involved. It was not a strip club. There was a shit ton of vodka. Raquel could not feel her teeth. Some 50 year old lady was solo Elaine dancing near us. (Foreshadowing the future us perhaps?) There were gay Germans dirty dancing with a member of our party. And let's just say that this happened: 

Just some innocent table dancing.

On the way out we met a merry band of brothers with British accents and somehow we began to refer to them as The Hobbits. To their faces. I'm pretty sure this was racist. It was a drunken nightmare. Raquel told them they should come to Dallas to visit because we shot JFK. I had to remind her we weren't alive when this happened, so technically we did not shoot him. Jake told them incorrectly to meet us the next night at the show we were seeing called Abstinence. Who would want to see that? It was called Absinthe. One Hobbit kept trying to kidnap Baby D and diversion tactics were employed to make our escape. We thought we made a clean getaway, but we ran into a Hobbit outside. Finally, the valet brought our car and as we drove off Raquel told the Hobbit to say hello to Gandalf for us. I'm pretty sure we're going to hell.

And did I mention that by 'on the way out' I meant on the way out at 3:30 am? And if you add the two hour time difference coming from Texas it was 5:30 am, so we'd been up 24 hours? Aw yeaaah- take that Vegas and fuck you 40! (I'm still 39) 

Not 40 yet, bitches!

So the next morning we were happily hung over and lounged in the room most of the day. I casually bent over to pick something up from my suit case and felt a sharp pain in my back. The last time I traveled to Vegas I was pregnant with Fifi and had a horrible case of sciatica right before that trip. And here I was again, never usually having back issues, in Vegas, the youngest of the group, (I'm milking it for all I can) with a thrown out back. Vegas hates me.

We had plans that evening for a nice birthday dinner and a show. Wiener was arriving at 2 pm so I sucked it up and slammed some wine and an erroneous hydrocodone. Dinner was great and the show was even better, especially after a double Malibu and cranberry. Malibu was substituted for Belvedere vodka after being told the vodka was $27 per shot. No thanks. I can buy a few entire bottles for that much. I was in excruciating pain and had to kill it somehow. We saw Absinthe at Caesar's and it was fucking hilarious. Completely raunchy and politically incorrect and right up our alley. 

Afterwards we roamed the Caesar's Palace casino where I have a vague recollection of talking to some Canadians about the show who wanted to know if there was nudity or visible side boob and I involuntarily said AY a lot. I'm also told that I kept demanding a hover round and at one point yelled at a legless man on a hover round "Hey! I need that!" Not my finest moment.

I'm sure this happened.

I also have foggy memories of playing blackjack with Lola and Wiener and discussing Cuban-American relations with our 24 year old newlywed dealer who was Cuban and has dual citizenship. I did this so no one noticed me counting on my fingers under the table to add up my cards. But somehow chips kept appearing so I must not have done too bad. Or Lola and Wiener kept putting them there for me. Or maybe it was the (gasp) Asian!!! Eventually we left and headed to Bellagio where we had some breakfast then back to our hotel.

By the next morning I was completely unable to move and in the worst pain of my life since childbirth. I tried relaxing and taking Advil and after feeling nauseous all day and still in pain I decided to throw in the towel and book a flight back home that night with Wiener. After a trip to the ER, where plenty of heavenly narcotics were dispensed, the doctor sent me to get an MRI which showed a herniated disc.

So although I may be the youngest in age, I'm certainly the oldest in body. How lame. Throwing my back out getting something out of my suitcase in Vegas. And that may be the true story known to you, dear reader, but in my real life the tale I shall tell is "I got a little out of control with my mad dance moves on the stripper pole during my encore performance."

You're welcome for that image. You cannot un-read that.