One word... Poop.

Post Script addition:  I often exaggerate...  immensly in this blog.  Please do not take me seriously when I say things like I yelled at my kids.  Raising my voice slightly is a more accurate discription.  Again, this is a humor blog...  a requirement for reading this blog is that you must have a fully functioning sense of humor.

Occasionally I get a question about this blog and why I never post it on facebook anymore and I always answer that it's because I have a few religious friends and they might get offended by the things I say, even though I do not mean ANYTHING I say on here in seriousness (except as otherwise explicitly stated in the fine print, blah, blah, blah...) AKA, I don't really give a shit what you think but I'm trying to pose as a nice person because maybe it will get me a date one day... People won't say, she's a mean bitch and she makes fun of Mormons, they will say, "Oh what a nice girl with her two sweet children..."  (I know you all know the truth)

And one of those "sweet children" is the subject of tonight's blog-oh-rama. Poop. Yes, poop.

So I was blabbing away on Facebook tonight about how I never post anymore on my funny blog and thinking to myself, "Geez, I just don't seem to be finding the material anymore...  Either that or I'm just turning into a complete douche bag and don't have a sense of humor at this stage in life."  And then...  it happened...  yes, my karma came to me...

I was typing away on the computer after I cooked a lovely steak dinner, chatting on facebook and texting like a high-schooler.  I had put a movie on for the kids, as I often do in the evenings after dinner and I assumed the little "Sweetie Sweetums" was playing in her room.  Blah, blah, blah, and what do I hear...  the toilet lid.  Now, for those of you that are parents of a potty-training child, or have been at one time, this can either spell D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R or it can spell success.  But which word comes first in the dictionary?!  Yes, that's right folks, the big D!

I called her name, of course she never responds to this, and saw that the light was out in the bathroom, but there was a suspicious smell telling me something was still going on.  I flipped on the light just to catch her dropping a big chunk of poop into the toilet with her bare hands!  KER-PLOP!

My immediate reaction was to yell, of course, because I am mother of the year, and so I yelled, "What the HELL are you doing?!" with all my great parenting skills to back me.  Sweetie Sweetums just looked at me like, "Yeah, eff you...  I feel fantastic, I just pooped a redwood-sized log."  I ran into the bedroom and saw the discarded diaper on the floor and then frantically ran back to the bathroom.  At this point she had already run her hands through her hair.  Panicked, I picked her up under her armpits and set her in the tub, smearing more poop on the way.  I yelled, "Don't move!!" (I'm pretty sure the veins were popping out of my forehead at this point and I was giving my best "evil mommy" glare) and I yelled for the 5 year old to bring me the wipes so I could at least wipe off the poop smears from the side of the tub and the ones she had left on the cabinets.  Of course, because Jebus hates me for writing this irreverent blog, he suddenly couldn't remember where to find them.  Screaming in disgust at this point, because I am a completely patient person when I have poop all over my hands, the floor, the walls, my 2 1/2 year old, the cabinets, and just about everything else I stormed out of the bathroom to get the wipes myself.

Needless to say, I maintained complete composure during the whole debacle (and I will be going to hell for lying, among other things).  After several rinses, a little bit of gagging, and some good solid sham-POOing, I think I got the situation under control  (this sort of control is just an illusion because there's always the chance of another random poop smearing, diarrhea explosion, barfing, or any other disgusting bodily function, likely to get all over the carpet, walls, car, car-seats, clothes, etc.).

I have learned my lesson in all of this.  Never ask for humor material, because you will SURELY get it, and not in the way that you want it...  I'm not quite laughing about this yet, but I figured everyone else would.  So go ahead, laugh it up, Chuckles!  I'll be walking around my house all night so afraid to touch anything for fear of there being some poop on a door handle or something that I missed.  Do you think there's such a thing as a poop-bomb for your house, like a flea-bomb??  I pretty sure I'm going to have a nightmare about poop tonight...

There are no words...

Laughing. So. Hard.

Cannot. Stop.

Crying.

I won't pass on that aggression... because you think you are superior...

So have I ever mentioned that I can't frigging stand passive aggressiveness??  Now of course, I'm guilty of it all the time, but what I can't stand is when other people do it.  Actually, I sort of feel gross when I do passive aggressive things, but obviously I just don't care enough to stop.

You know the kind of thing I'm talking about.  It's like that guy at work that picks his nose when he thinks no one is looking and that you swear steals chips out of your chip bag when you leave for a meeting but you aren't sure, so you can't outright blame him for it, but you swear he does it just to make you second guess your own sanity.  Or when your girlfriend purposefully leaves that glob of toothpaste in the sink but claims she can't see it when she takes her contacts out.  And you lie awake tossing and turning and wondering if she does it just because you pissed her off by leaving your dirty socks all balled up in the laundry so she has to touch all that "stinky" to unball them.  Passive aggressiveness can come in many forms and those are just a couple examples.  (C'mon, you know you've done things like that before... be honest...  Jebus knows the truth...)

Tonight I did something passive aggressive and I'm actually quite proud of it.  Once again, the @ssholes that like to hog the laundry room were taking up two machines again.  But the really stupid thing this time was that they decided to utilize two dryers at once, while my clothes sat in the washing machine, still wet.  They happened to beat me in there by about ten minutes and stuffed a huge sleeping bag in the dryer I would have used. 

Now, I've mentioned this situation in a previous blog post, but did I mention that I absolutely have no tolerance what-so-ever, not even an itsy bitsy smudge of tolerance for self-centered people that do things like hog two dryers so that I can't get my already washed clothes dry in a timely manner??  Nothing in this world pisses me off more than inconsideration like that.  Seriously.  These people are always the ones in traffic that zoom by you in the right lane, knowing full well that the right lane ends and they need to merge into the left, but they "pretend" they didn't realize the lane was ending and cut in front of you at the last second and clog up traffic!  These people may as well just wear a sign that says, "I feel that I am a superior human being.  Therefore I will cut in front of you and use the first dryer available, even if it's your turn because I deserve it."  Just like traffic laws that prohibit passing on the right or cutting people off, they should make it illegal to hog two machines in ANY laundromat across the entire nation.  Make it a federal law.

I would like to take a fog horn and stand outside on the front porch of these people's apartment at 3am and blab to the world how inconsiderate they are... and that they must have their heads inserted so far up their @sses that they are in serious need of an expert proctologist to reverse their craniumupglutimous syndrome.  And then I would like to hang a neon sign in their window that reads "inconsiderate pricks that like to wear pink tutus live here and drive gay little cars."  But alas, I cannot do that. 

So, I resorted to leaving a peeved off nasty note.  I REALLY wanted to write an entire letter stating how I could assist them in removing their lovely heads from their spectacular arses and how I could help them to gain understanding and consideration of their fellow man by tying them to a tree upside down, shaving them bald, and beating them for hours with bags of rotten fish heads, but unfortunately my sticky notes just weren't big enough.  I had to write something like this:

"Thanks for hogging both dryers.  I love staying up late.  U-R-RUDE!"

Pretty tame really.  I'm proud of myself for keeping those thoughts in my head that needed to stay in my head.  I could have written a note about how I would like to leave a flaming bag of dog shit for them every year, every day, for the rest of their lives!!!  I will find them!!  I will egg their houses!!!  I will...  okay I guess you get the picture.

So here I am...  up late...  blogging away while my laundry dries.  I threw the sleeping bag out of the dryer when it was finished and didn't even fold it up for them!  HA!  Take THAT!  I just tossed it on the counter in a wrinkled heap!  How's that for passive aggressive?!

Ponies, Aliens and a happy dance.

So, I admit, I haven't posted much at all the last couple of months...  okay three months...  and I doubt that anyone noticed...  but honestly I've been a little shaky on my humor confidence lately.  I get online all the time and check out you people's lovely HILARIOUS blogs and I just feel inadequate!!  Gosh darn it!  Why can't I be funny all the time?!

But at the risk of having a mini meltdown here, let's all recite together that Richard Simmons or was it Gene Simmons chant or whatever pony man it was that said it:

"I am beautiful!  I am successful!  And gosh darn it, people like me!"  (now prance like a little pony that stepped in a beehive... that's right, Tippy toe!  Tippy toe!  Now smack your own a...  okay maybe that's going overboard...)

I don't usually give a shout out to other blogs, just because I'm not famous enough for anyone to actually read this and for the blogs to get any benefit from me plugging them, but today I would like to take the opportunity to give a shout out to Little White Lion.  Find them on facebook.  Funniest Beotches I've come across in for-ev-er.  Okay, maybe not forever, but like...  a long time.  Click below for some gut wrenching laughter.  Seriously.  Do it.  NOW.  Do it...  and then come back to my blog and make me feel better about myself.

http://www.facebook.com/LittleWhiteLionz

(ten years later)  Okay, you done with them?  Right.  Back to me.

So I had this INSANE (that may be melodramatic, but I'm trying to get you excited here, so bear with me) dream the other night that I got abducted by aliens.  No seriously, I'm not kidding.  Okay so it's not an original theme, but what can I say?  I went to bed, and the next thing I knew my Dad and I were chopping wood in the backyard (don't ask...  I have no idea why) and this big fancy dark grey flying saucer lands in the backyard!  Dad shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh yeah, okay," and went back to work like it was nothing.  As I'm having a major aorta-ripping heart attack in the backyard (and Dad is acting all cavalier), the flying saucer busted open like a transformer, and opened up into this mushroom looking thing with piping and steam and all the corny stuff you see in the movies, but it's really the fantastic movie in my head!

Now I know what you're thinking here, what is the big freaking deal right?  The average person believes that they've been abducted by aliens while chopping wood all the time.  And you're thinking, "C'mon cornball, get to the punchline so I can get back to my beer and pretzels..." and quite frankly there is no punchline.  I just wanted to tell you about my freaky dream, so shut up and keep reading (please and thank you).

I woke up at this point.  Ava had fallen asleep in my bed and was kicking me.  I promptly shoved her over to the far side of the bed and went back to sleep.  Now this rarely happens to me, but occasionally I can go right back into the same dream, and this time I did.  Who wouldn't want to miss out on the mushroom-shaped alien spacecraft, right?  Hell yeah.  I wanted to see what happens next.  This shit is better than cowboys and aliens or whatever other crap Hollywood is spewing out at the moment.

So I fell back to sleep and slipped back into the dream.  I was back standing in the yard below the giant mushroom alien thing in seconds.  At some point in the dream my kids got taken away by the aliens and I had to go inside the mushroom ship and rescue them from the aliens.  I started to figure out that they were only abducting "really smart" people like doctors and lawyers and that's why I didn't really get abducted.  Their plan seemed to be that they were going to steal all the knowledge of the human race from these so-called smart people and figure out how to take over the planet, the greedy bastards.  Too bad the jokes on them, cause we all know, Doctors and Lawyers don't know shit most of the time.  I digress, but how many times have you been to the doctor for a mysterious "rash" and he shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders and says, "Well, these things happen all the time.  It could be any number of things.  Try baby-powder in your undies and buy another brand of lotion.  That'll be 300 bucks please."  And I'm thinking, "Really?  I paid 300 bucks for you to tell me to powder my ass when I could be dying of flesh eating herpes?"

Back to the aliens.  Their ship was made of this really soft metal that apparently could be bent all over the place like salty play-dough, and I managed to rip my screaming rugrats out of the ship through a tiny opening that was not even humanly possible to pass through even for a two-year-old, but alas, this is a dream and anything can happen as you "wood-chopping" folks have figured out.  I woke up several times in a cold sweat and fell back to sleep, knowing that I had to fight the aliens to the bitter end to rescue all the overpriced doctors and lawyers in the world so that we could continue to be a miserable penniless human race.

Towards the wee hours of the morning, I realized that my alarm was about to go off and I had managed to rip apart the alien ship.  I stood victorious over the smart-people-stealing villains (apparently they had stolen several hundred other people).  All was right with the world.  And I swear, I was not on drugs.

Have you ever woken up after a dream, or perhaps in the middle of the night and you think you've had a brilliant thought, so you write it down?  That was how I woke up this morning.  I thought to myself as I heard the buzzing of my alarm, "Man!  I need to turn this dream into a book!  Even better, I'll write a really long and pointless blog about it!"  Well of course now that I am sitting at my computer with my mental faculties fully awake, I realize that this was a very stupid idea.  And because you decided to read this blog all the way through, dear reader(s), you get the pleasure of knowing that I am doing a happy dance for you right now.  (I'm doing it, you just can't see it.  It resembles a pony that stepped in a beehive.  Tippy toe!  Tippy toe!)  And you can do a happy dance of your own choosing (but preferably involving some ass slapping) because this blog is OVER!!  Now go kick some alien butt in your own fantastic dreams!!  And a quick thanks to Samael for always nagging me to write more...  even when I don't feel "funny."  ;)

Dear Washington Summer,

I am trying to be extra thankful this year, so I made a list of things I'm thankful for with all this great weather you have sent us up here.  I know the folks in the Midwest won't be as charmed by this, but the Washingtonians will understand.  So here goes, the things that I think are great about Washington summers:

1. The tourism industry will decrease in the Seattle area since everyone will want to slit their wrists after a summer in Washington. This means no more waiting in lines at the Space Needle!

2. Risks of skin cancer will decrease with all the cloud cover, so I may get to keep my nose in old age after all. (so much for following the Michael Jackson look)

3. Drought? What drought? That happens in places like Africa.

4. Maybe some Californians will go home.

5. The moss growing industry will flourish, literally.

6. We all might sprout gills or spontaneously become mermaids, and who wouldn't want to be a mermaid?!

7. I'm really liking this vampire-like glow I have going on because diamond-skin is just sexy!

8. The Twilight fans will replace the Californians.

9. Forks will become the State Capital instead of boring old Olympia.

10. "Rust" will become the new pink.

11. Rain boots are better than high-heels any day.

12. I will get major usage out of my new umbrellas, and I have 3.  I consider that a really smart investment.

13. Blue tarps are not just cool in Belfair, they are cool everywhere, especially while camping!

14. I don't have to shave my legs, because they won't be seen anytime soon.

15. I can put my flip flops away this year and they store so nicely.

16. I will spend less money on clothing, because we can just throw the need for that summer wardrobe right out the window!

17. Plane tickets to Hawaii will sell out, Go Hawaii!!

18. Florida doesn't look so bad after all.

19. The more it rains, the more excuses I have not to do yard work or mow the lawn!

20. I won't need new sunglasses and who cares if I accidentally sit on them.

21. I will have lots of time to do that housework that I SO enjoy.

22. There won't be any danger of invasive cactus anytime soon.

23. My shade-plants will be Oh-So-Healthy!

24. The humidity makes my hair curl and frizz even MORE. I always wanted to look like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

25. Grey is a beautiful and neutral color, and the color of the sky is not actually blue. (I think it's a conspiracy that they keep teaching kids in school this information)

26. I love wool sweaters!

27. Fleece and rain parkas are the best inventions since sliced bread.

28. Investing in an Ark-like boat will not be considered certifiably crazy any longer.

29. Risks of dehydration and heat exhaustion will fall dramatically.

30. For you men, rain hats cover up bald spots just as well as a baseball cap! Woohoo!


So there's a few positives to start.  I'm sure I will think of more later!  See you next year, Summer!  Is July 10th to July 14th a good time for you?  I'll be counting on it!

Love, Danielle

I meant every word you wrote...

Dear Hallmark,

Thank you for creating this wonderfully awkward holiday where you have caused Americans to feel the need to purchase your witty cards that say things like "Happy Father's Day Old Fart" and "Way to go Daddio!" and all that cheesy shit.  Cause we all know, when we receive a card like that, it's really, REALLY sincere and straight from the heart.  I meant every word in the card you wrote.  What I would like to see is a card for my drunk uncle that says something like this:

"Hey Unc, so glad you were there for me all those years!  Love ya to pieces!  P.S. I really hope you enjoyed your breakfast Budweiser!  And be glad you didn't even come to my wedding, I got divorced anyways! (although you wouldn't have enjoyed it, since it was a 'dry' wedding).  Happy Father's Day!" 

I think we should all celebrate our dysfunction and just embrace it!

Okay, so don't get me wrong, Hallmark...  I appreciate my Dad more than anything in the world.  He's kind of a big deal.  What I can't stand is the rest of the family...  Well...  a few of them anyways...

Because of you, Gramps decided to get all the "kids" together this year on Father's Day.  Dad is one of four "kids" who are actually all just crazy dysFUNctional adults now (you can make the assumption that I'm not including my Dad in that generalization) and of course we had a big ol' barbecue like good ol' Washingtonians like to do...  even when it's cold and rainy...  cause when ELSE would we do it?  I really think you should make a card about that too, by the way.  It could be a 25 pack of invitations that read something like, "Come have some fun...  in our house..."  It's just a suggestion for marketing to the rainy-summer states.

So there we were, all packed in the house hogging down on some burgers like good and well trained Americans.  My drunk unc showed up, whom I haven't seen in about 5 years.  He looks like a bloated red-faced baboon (it's the beer...).  Naturally, he didn't even acknowledge me when I answered the door.  He probably didn't know who I was...  (Maybe you could make a card for that too, like "Hey I can't remember who you are, but thanks for letting us in, best wishes.")  And two of his kids came along, who never speak to me, and I actually had deleted from my facebook page not too long ago because I'm pretty sure they don't remember who I am anymore either.  I admit, it was a PETTY and passive aggressive thing to do, and obviously I was not above that.

Gotta love the joys of awkward holidays that you have created for us...  and of course, the old baby pictures had to come out.  I was saved by the need to go and pick up my daughter, however, so I simply ducked out the door after saying good-bye to my Dad.  Everyone else was busy with the baby pictures... Maybe I could have left some balloons for everyone in the shape of letters that spelled, "Too awkward to say Good-bye."  I'm just sayin...

So thank you for the holiday that reminds me that my Dad is pretty awesome, and that the rest of my family...  doesn't really remember who I am...

Sincerely,
Danielle

Matchy matchy matchmaker and the quest for online love...

So, I apologize, it's been way too long since I blogged a funny blog.  I have been ever so crazy busy (keyword "crazy"), but I have had some time to squeeze in some online dating.  Yes, I said it, online dating.

I admit, I have been VERY judgemental about this particular pastime.  I thought it was mostly for creeps, geeks, and the socially inept.... and it is....  myself included, and I am neither a geek or socially inept.

I have been pretty open about the fact that I am a baby-mama of two gorgeous rugrats, and so organic dating has been a bit of a difficulty, since I can't seem to get out anywhere without a kids menu and a playground in very close proximity.  My diet mostly consists of dino-nuggets and maybe a bud light lime when I can sneak it (it's a developed taste and only the most discerning pallets can appreciate it's subtle flavor - don't judge a mother).  Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.  Being a mom is very fulfilling, but...  there are times when I would like to string the little sweety-sweetums up by their toenails and have a night out to let my very short hair down and get sassy, ya know?

So I decided to start slow and try the free trials.  Well of course, they are "free" for a reason, there's really no point to them.  So I finally forked over the dough for one month on Match.com.  And WOWEE...

Now, my little disclaimer, there are truly a lot of lovely people doing the non-organic thing these days, but there are still those creepy ones!!  And as we already know, I've got a THING for attracting the CREEPIES!!  Wooohooo!!  Yep, I built the bridge, and they came running. 

If any of you have been on match before, you know that you can send winks.  Well I like to wink, so I was sending out winks right and left having a gay ol' time, until I realized that meant that I was inviting mass emails.  Before I knew it I had 800+ profile views and about 150 emails in a week.  I was receiving messages from the genuine baby-daddy to the "hey you wanna hang and get you drank on" which I received from a 22 year old "navy seal" (which is slang for "I'm too young and stupid so I'm pretty much a douche bag") (absolutely no offense to the beautiful brave men and women that defend our country, but when it comes to dating, a lot of you military folks quite frankly and literally suck).  I am 29 with two children.  I let him know that I didn't think this was an "appropriate" match.  Nothing personal...  Well that's not true...  it was personal.  I don't date outside my species.  But you get the idea.  I wish that it were legal to post some of these profiles on here.  And I might find a way to do it....  Cause there are some DOOZIES out there!

I'm sure I already sound like a judgemental beotch,  but seriously, wouldn't you think that if you had some trouble with spelling, that you might at least have a friend proofread it for you?  There was about 25% of the profiles that drove me up the wall for just horrid spelling, and I'm no grammar nazi either.  And seriously, put a picture up that isn't TOTALLY grainy!!  That is just so creepy-obvious.  We already know you're not good looking, just OWN it and rock it!!  Make your username "Fuglydude12345" or something like that.  If you were good looking or at least had money, you WOULDN'T BE ON MATCH!!!  You would have hundreds of gorgeous play bunny types knocking on your door and begging you to be their baby-daddy... especially if you have money.  That's another point, usernames.  YIKES.

But the real crux of this story I find pretty hilarious.  In my search for the poor fool, oops I mean search for my soul mate and all that crap, I discovered 4... count 'em 4 people that I WORK WITH!!!!  Granted, I work in a large local shipyard with around 10k employees, so yes the odds of that are probably relatively high....  but sheesh, I don't need another baby-daddy I work with, okay?  Needless to say, one of them I know personally and have worked in the same office with him.  Can we say Monday morning humiliation?  Fortunately I didn't run into him, but he sent me a wink, so I know he saw my profile on there!!!  UGH, I just can't catch a break.  Yard birds foreverrrrrrrrr!!!!

Damn I'm a classy dame.  Expect to see pics of me in about a year that resemble this one (yes that's actually me):

TOTALLY KIDDING BTW.  No more sweety-sweetums ruggy rats for me.