Who the heck wants to eat Thanksgiving dinner once you’ve tasted dessert? Definitely NOT Tessa. Aunt Abby let Tessa lick the frosting bowl for the chocolate cake I made, wrong move Auntie. When faced with a plate of turkey and stuffing, Tessa pulled the only maneuver that might possibly work - the boo boo lip. Cue pitiful collective “AWWWWWWWW” We lousy adults could not contain our laugher resulting in an even sadder look Uncle Mark is a sucker and left his seat to go hug the pathetic munchkin. We warned him that she was wrapping him around her wee little finger, but he would hear none of it. To add to the droopy dog look she started to squeeze out some crocodile tears It was too much for Uncle Mark to take and he struck a boo boo lip pose of his own Uncle Mark, being older and more practiced at the boo boo lip managed to crack her manipulative facade . Tessa still refused to shovel any din din and was horrified when I served sister up a nice big slice of chocolate cake. Sly as a sneaky dog she slipped her hand onto sister’s plate and commandeered some cake of her own, who could blame her really? I mean don’t you want a slice?

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday all. I was thinking in honor of my dental visit that I would show you my pearly whites. Then I found out the estimated cost of bring mine and the Hubster’s smiles up to healthy.. Ouch. Quite frankly, it has left me nothing to smile about.

I go back in early December to have cavities filled and two teeth sealed. After that I have to consult with the oral surgeon about having my wisdom teeth extracted and my jaw broke. Like I said, NOTHING to smile about.

I have a dentist appointment this afternoon… Please pray for me.. Last time I visited the dentist I was 7 months pregnant with Tessa and they announced that I had 5 cavities - pregnancy absolutely kills teeth. Anyways, please pray that my dental hygenist isn’t a sadistic bitch who enjoys paining folks and making them bleed. I guess I’m also going to broach the subject of the looming jaw surgery that I need to have done. Find out how I can get it at least partially covered by insurance and so on. I fear I may need a root canal and my wisdom teeth removed… Really this will be NO FUN. Since I’m boring you all with my fears today why no click on my new renter Zazzafooky. She rocks, no really. I’ve been reading her blog since I started my own, I need to blogroll her but I am so damn lazy. Anyways head over and read all about getting felt up at the airport and the secret the f7 key holds for the government.

Since date night the Hubster has been kevetching about his intestinal rumblings; silly me I thought he was just being a baby. What can one who eats 7-11 sandwiches expect to happen? However, it seems to have spread to the girls. Poop factory is an understatement about what I have been dealing with. Tonight Mira even had an issue when she squat down to pick up her little seat that she slides on the potty, oops dropped a friend off too soon. MMMM, floor patty. Daddy got to clean that one up. In an act of retribution he ripped one while I was helping myself to mint cookie frozen yogurt. It was a cheek slapping, juicy sounding, pants splitting event. I actually felt the need to ask is he just SHARTED (shit farted for those not in the know). HA HA! I stopped breathing through my nose and considered myself immune to his ass emission. Oh how wrong I was. The smell, most foul, traveled to me. It thickened the air and creeped into my open mouth, making me gag. My tongue tried escaping my head causing me to retch and dry heave. Every time I caught my breath and tried to proclaim how foul it actually was, the smell seemed to find my mouth again and play hockey with my uvula, sending me into another dry heave. As if that wasn’t enough the dog got in on it. Standing in the kitchen a noisy one fled his furry ass, I was under serious ASSult. I grabbed my bowl and retreated to the far side of the house, where I now sit, amazed that the funk is making it’s way in here! I’ve opened the window, so be warned, it could be heading towards your house… I’m sorry.

Try this one out. Mine is totally on the mark how about you? I swiped this from Pink Kitty who had some complaints about her answers but honestly mine is pretty much dead on

Your Birthdate: May 30

You have the type of personality that people either love or hate. You’re opinionated, dramatic, intense, and very outspoken. And some people can’t get enough of you - they’re totally addicted. Others, well, they wish you were a little more reserved. Your strength: Your flair Your weakness: If you think it, you say it Your power color: Scarlet red Your power symbol: Inverted triangle Your power month: March

Why? WHY? WHY? I’m sure if I put forth a bit of effort I could learn to communicate through smoke signals or carrier pigeon. I hate H_A_T_E telemarketers with a passion, all of them. Yes, if you are a telemarketer I HATE YOU! Do not call my house and try to sell me something. If I decline politely count yourself blessed and hang up. Don’t push me. (fuck, phone brb)Telemarketer #12 for the day, the 3rd recording - who the fuck thinks they are going to sell ANYTHING by calling me and placing a cheesy recording “warning” me or “congratulations” for me? Who? I answer the phone for all calls because I do sweepstakes, oddly enough none of these calls are tied to my sweepstaking habits. They are all about cable tv, satellite tv, refinancing the house, and credit cards (our own credit card company does this to us and it infuriates me to no end).. Typically I rant, rave, lie, cry, blow a whistle, etc. My favorite was when we were getting calls daily for “runners” magazine. On the 356th or so call I broke down sobbing and told the telemarketer my legs had been amputated and that every time they called it would send me spiraling deeper into suicidal depression. The calls stopped. When the local paper would not stop calling I told them I couldn’t read them dadburned papers, them letter just never made sense to my simple mind. The guy asked if I was illiterate and I told him to stop cussing at me and hung up - yep, those calls stopped too. Next time someone calls asking me to refinance I think I’m going to tell them my house just burned down but I’ll be happy to refinance to get some equity out of it.

I completed this card last night. The bird is colored pencil, the rest is paper collage. I have a creativity hangover today. I want to do more but the kids were in my supplies and driving me up the wall. Troy felt badly and made me dinner~ garlic butter shrimp, whipped sweet potato, and fresh asparagus (yum yum yum). I have a new renter, check her out at the top of the side bar. She young, she’s hip, she’s Brittish, she’s an 80’s lovin fool, here’s 10 things about her according to her husband:
She knows the VIN number of Kitt from Knightrider off by heart
She can win any argument
She was the first person I knew that could make a Korma from scratch
She loves ford escort’s
She is a great mother and an awesome wife
She’s a quick learner
She was so chuffed when our first flat was on (Lt.) Templeton (Faceman Peck) Avenue
I know that if she wanted to, she could be better than me at my job
Her ideal job would be a special detective (from the 80’s)
She’s a lot more attractive and gorgeous than she realises
Clicky, clicky

Come December my picture will be on the wall of the local library. It will have the feel of an 1800’s wanted poster complete with a bounty. Why? Until recently my local librarians loved me. My holds and inter-library loans have kept our small branch’s circulation hopping, this makes the librarians happy. When you turn in books late, this makes them sad. When you turn in books that the dog has chewed the cover off of, this makes them mad. And if you should turn in 5 or 6 books that your 2 year old took a permanent marker too… Well that is heart attack material

Oh the carnage! It wasn’t enough to decorate the covers of the books, nay. My darling had to open the books and periodically scribble and swirl across words and pictures. Entire paragraphs have been obliterated by the fat Sharpie marker. No one can account for where she found the marker. All we know is that it is not MY fault and Troy staunchly believes it is not HIS fault. We both thought the other had her in view. During the ensuing mayhem she not only damaged books but managed to refinish my night stand, the floor (no crying over this we are putting wood down soon), herself, the bed skirt, the DOG, the wall as well as several other things.

For now I am reading the pages I can, budgeting to buy the damaged books and preparing for my lending privileges to be revoked. How can something so sweet be so darn evil?

Snot, snot and more snot. It started around midnight a few days ago. Wailing, screeching crying. I ran into the room and found Tessa with a head full of snot. A sneeze had erupted into a mighty snot explosion rivaling the likes of Mt St Helens. Giant blobs of snot clung to her forehead, chin, cheeks, hair… There was a puddle on her pillow.. gah it was disgusting. Since then I’ve been tormented. There has been no appeasing her. Sleeping through the night? HA, not in my house. To add a cherry to my sundae the Hubster and I are now battling this mighty foe with our immune systems. That scratchy, overly dry feeling that fills your nose, the packed with cotton feelings in the sinuses around your eyes, hoarking up globs of unidentifiable gooze, sore tired eyes and a bitchy attitude.. Ah yes check check and check. We started downing Airborn last night and - holy shit it seems to be working. I awoke today feeling icky but not as I had expected. From the rapid decline I had yesterday I expected to wake today to crusted over eyes and the vague feeling that someone had repeatedly dropped an anvil on my head - Nope I just feel minorly ickified. Barely have a fever, I felt well enough to brave shopping. Can I just say Old Navy rocks my socks right now. They have my favorite basic tank top on 2 for $10 WOOHOO. I *heart* tank tops. I wear them year round, that is one of the privileges of living in Florida. Most companies have packed away anything resembling a tank top by the end of August - uh HELLO August in Florida temperature wise is comparable to the 6th ring of hell. Just because somewhere in Canada they are preparing to hibernate or what ever you do in cold weather, does not mean that we need suede jackets and mink leg warmers here. Due to this retail retardedness I have been hoarding tank tops like there is no tomorrow. If I find one that remotely fits I’ll buy it. Who cares that its puke green, it’s a tank top.. I could dye it black.. I COULD, not that I would, but I could. Ok I’m getting lost.. Where was I? OH OH OK so I left Old Navy $88 dollars poorer but for that I got 6 tank tops, a cute collared shirt, 2 shirts for the Hubster and a pair of pants for the Hubster - $88 fantastic! They had awesome clearance going on but I refuse to try on pants, my ass is to large right now. I’ve slacked off and gained back the weight I lost when I was turning myself inside out from Risperdal and Lexapro withdrawal.
And on to more toilet matters. We discussed hovering (2 posts below) and those who fessed up to hovering claim to be seat wipers.. But I’ll bet it’s like people who claim they always wash hands after going potty… Point, point, my point.. Ah yes. Flushing was brought up. Me? I flush with my foot 97% of the time. Some places it is just impossible to hike your foot up high enough to hit the flusher, when that is the case I use a toilet paper mitt to touch the flusher- I know I can be a little weird about that. However, now I feel justified. With the number of hoverers claiming to wipe up after themselves I’m glad I’m not making hand to hand contact with that flusher. Also, am I the only weird person who gets skeeved by the idea that someone else’s hand touch the toilet paper before me and then I am supposed to wipe my delicate woman flower with paper that has met with the unwashed hand of a stranger? I mean that area is a direct route to my insides! I break off the hanging paper, taking care not to touch near the tear and then proceed to get myself a new piece of paper to wipe with.. Am I the only one??

Thus far Half Nekkid Thursday has been all about me, tonight I’m going to change that. Why? Why mess with success right? Normally I would agree. HOWEVER!! However, from the second this picture displayed on my camera I knew it had to be shared. Every time I look at it I dissolve into a puddle-like giggling mess. Without further adieu I bring you Sad Monkey Face~~~

My poor poor baby didn’t like Daddy spinning the Dizzy Dragon ride so fast. The Sad Monkey Face shall now live on and torment her for years to come. I should have been a more understanding mom, I guess. When her little voice warbled “Daddy I scared”, a little piece of my heart broke. That was all quickly shoved aside when i noticed the great photo op… I think that sort of thought process is what truely makes me a Blogger. Happy Half Nekkid Thursday and if you are wondering what the hell I’m talking about, click the Half Nekkid button in my side bar.