I am IM'POTENT.....or at least in my own mind

So first off, apparently I was awarded a Liebsters Blog Award from Britt over at Polkadot Clovers  

Apparently, I have fooled that bitch into thinking that I am a funny and witty new blogger.  MUAHHHAHAHAHA…….(evil ringing of hands here), little does she know that it is just a jedi mind trick.

Really, I would like to thank Little Miss Britt for the honors, I am merely watching the world around me and providing incredibly snarky commentary on what I see.  I am a mere hack compared to some of these other peeps, and I am incredibly grateful for each and every one of you that stops by to read what I have to say.  Heartfelt thanks to you all! 

So the rules of the Liebster Blog Award, must the followed (YO) or you will break the chain and the crazy Chinese Lady will totally NO AND THEN YOU!  

Rules as follows:

If you are awarded the Liebster Blog Award, here are the rules you “have” to follow.

1.        Link back to the person who gave you the award.  Yes, you must thank this bitch for thinking that you are pretty witty and/or awesome and/or I had no one else to nominate and/or I think your pretty and/or that dress looks nice on you and/or aahh…fuck it….I think your cool!

2.       Pick five other deserving bloggers to give the Liebster Blog Award to who have less than 200 followers.  You must also say nice things and tell them why they are the fucking bomb.  Which is easy because I only have kool friends!

And I bestow the funky chicken statues tooooooooooooo………………………….

Charity at Metamorphosis  You know when you talk to someone and you hear Angels Singing, like this was meant to be?  Well, when I first met Charity is was so not like that (kidding).  Charity and I are cut from the same cloth.  Opinionated, frank, slightly fucked up, seriously fucked up sense of humor, and the ability to piss people off and make them love you at the same time.  Peas in a Blog.

Jenn at the Pondering Pisces   Jenn and I have known each other IRL (In Real Life for you slow bitches) for almost 12 years.  Jenn might heckle me about calling other girls “besties” but there is only one true best friend that I have and that is Jenn.  She is dynamic, funny, beautiful, witty, and snarky all wrapped up into one fabulous package.  I should tell her more often how much I love her, but since her birthday is coming up and we are going out…..I will just have to post the pictures to prove it!  (PS – R if you are reading….you’re  coming with us…YO…it will be EPIC)

Mandi at Atypically Relevant  Fucking Mandi – I knew that we were soul sisters the moment you posted about making your own dildo…..You are fucking RAD.

The one, the only, Ninja that fends off fucktards and can keep the whores in check, all in one night Front Desk Ninja    Holy Shit, I want to spend just one day hanging out with her at the front desk.  I promise to amuse her with my witty commentary if she lets me hang with her at the Front Desk.  She’s brutal, dynamic, and funny as hell.

And last, but certainly not least…that Dirty Hooker Monica……how can you not love a blog called Dirty Hooker.  Monica is my kind of girl!  From tacky Jesus pictures to that god damn Marquis De Sade painting…girl…..you fucking kill me.

And now, I would like to share some reasons with you all as to why I am so incredibly talented.....

See, this is my parents.....kind of explains it huh......

And the offspring that they produced (meaning me) takes the same amusing pictures

Here is my grandfather, the sign says "Beware of the Orange Baron", he used to mow the grass in his Air Force flight suit....fucking hilarious.  I also included nice pictures of my grandparents....they were my best friends

These are two of my favorite pictures of my grandparents.  My grandfather never left the house without his martini.....the drive from their house in Hawaii to dinner were always the most interesting in my life.  And who else gets taken to Europe over the summer and gets to live in a house on the French Riveria...Yeah, me Bitches!!















Now then, we arrive to my formative years of why the hell I am so crazy......maybe that because we always thought it was funny to take pictures of the "private moments"  Like when Dad is peeing in the lake.











Or when your brother is "busy" sleeping

High School....were we tied a tampon to the car antenna just to see who would notice....

                                                                                                         Or dared each other to stick stuff up our noses.....like bracelets....

College......and our neighbors fridge....says it all

And wouldn't you know that I would meet a man...who's first baby picture shows him giving everyone the bird.....man....I love him.

And a special shout out to our dogs.....who drank tequilla, ate weed, and would lie on their backs while we got drunk playing board games.....just to amuse us!

 So one day, I hope to look like this, since this is my Mom.  59 years old......and who is known to throw out the ole "I used to party like a rock star before there were rock stars....biotches".  I kid you not.













And here is my costume that I made for Halloween last year, that's right y'all.  I was the "Naughty Spottie" while hubby wore his fire turn outs.  And you know what that bastard did, when I was good and drunk....he managed to clip a leash on me....fucker....for the rest of the night everyone was stepping on my leash and I was gasping and choking.  Fucking Retards....

 And our offspring making the Gene Simmons "Kiss" Face.

Until next time BIOTCHES

Genie, you bitch, give me what I want!

There are moments in my life when I just wish that I had my own personal Genie with unlimited wish supplies.  And I swear that I would only use the wishes for good, never for evil…..well, never for like super evil bad purposes and I would never hurt anyone, well I would never hurt anyone who DIDN’T deserve it….if you are a douchebag you are going down. 

For instance, the other day, I picked up my girls from school and there is roughly a 30 minute wait in between when Ankle Biter #1 and Ankle Biter #2 get out of school.  So, our usual M.O. is to go to the park right by the school and wait for #1 to get out of class.  It’s at said park where the Mom’s all gather around and rummage through the kids backpacks to discover a few things.....

• Why the hell didn’t you eat the lunch I packed you?  Jesus H. Christ, I fucking made you that sandwich and you didn’t eat it……or the snack?  Because you what??  You bought a fucking donut at recess time with your hot lunch account??  What the HELL…..Arrrgghhh...... (You are too young for me to be closing accounts because of bad spending habits)
• Crap your teacher writes a huge weekly summary and I get exhausted reading all the things that I am supposed to be doing at home with you.  Thank God for Nanny……if I have to do multiplication with you one more time and you tell me that I don’t know what 2 times 2 is….I will bang my head repeatedly.
• How do you end up with seven socks in your backpack?  Did you put them in here?  Are they yours?  Did you have a sock puppet show and tell day? Or what???  My god, this must be the other side of the sock black hole that enters through my washing machine and exits out into your backpack….EUREAKA….I found a match!
• The Park Moms are bitchy and I want to stab them in the eyes.   Oh, I am sorry that I was in your way and you felt the need to hustle me out of the way because I was in “your spot”.  I didn’t realize that your name was emblazoned on the park bench and that your precious spot next to your “park” bestie was in danger due to my fat ass sitting here.  Yeah, and I loved the “huffing” noises that you made while turning your back away from me to craw about how difficult it is for your child to be in first grade.  And boy was I ever excited when all your “besties” left you that I would be so privileged for you to look down your nose and finally talk to me.  I guess my rolling my eyes at you and walking away, cemented my status as the outkast of the “Park Biotch Club”.     F-U-C-K         Y-O-U. 

So, it was out of this angst that I started daydreaming my Genie Wish list…..in between clapping for my little Mary Lou Retten on the monkey bars.

In no particular order…..

I wish that Carrot Top would just go away, every time his picture appears on the internet or on TV, I get very nervous.  He looks like he eats people in a Peppermint Patty crossed with Silence of the Lambs kind of way.  I could just imagine him saying that he wants to cook you with carrots and brown sugar in the microwave, Clarisse….fffffttttt.

I wish I could freeze time, like this one show that used to be on when I was a kid.  I can’t remember the name of the show, but he could totally freeze time with this really cool old fashioned pocket watch (apparently Google knows what I am talking about because it was called, “The Girl, the gold watch and everything” and it had Pam Dawber in it)   Who the hell doesn’t love Pam Dawber…..I kind of hate her because I have a slight crush on Gibbs and she has been married to him ….like FOREVER.  Anyway, I would totally freeze time and draw mustaches on those park biotches.

I wish that I had a money tree in the backyard that bloomed whenever Nordstrom’s was having its ½ Yearly Sale.  That way, I could get whatever I wanted totally GUILT FREE and its ALL ON SALE!  DOUBLE POINTS

I wish that Pandora would always be on in my head.  That way, whenever I needed music to motivate me, it’s there.  For instance, who wouldn’t want to hear “Bottoms Up” by Trey Songz while you are guzzling champagne and dancing around the house?  Perfecto…..   Or belt out Little Lion Man and all the rest of the awesome songs from Mumford and Sons while you are stomping around.  ‘Cause they fucking rock.  Or you want a little makin whoopee music….some Barry White or a little Red Light Special….for you know…da mood.  Or when you need a good dose of the Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Lenny Kravitz, Garth Brooks, Colbie, Robin Thicke, Sugarland and all the other artists that I love in random genre’s.

I wish that I push a mute button on people.  You know those people, the ones that open their mouths and its like nails on a chalkboard.  For no particular reason, you hate them.  Hate the way they talk, hate the way they shuffle paper on their desk, hate their squeaky shoes, and hate how they try to interact with you when they know that you hate them.  MUTE….it solves so many problems.

I wish that my Office Voodoo Kit really worked.

And last but not least, I wish that my friend Jenn and I could always work together. She is the best! I miss her……she will always be my one hope.  (PS - I'm trying to upload our video....)   done

Gasp, I have been shunned from the Juicy Club

The majority of days, I can totally relate to Emma Stone in the movie “Easy A”, and not because of all of the fake whoring around, I did all my real whoring around in College.  (Sorry, Mommy, if you are reading just ignore the last part it was dramatic prose)

There are just days that I feel like the Hester Prynne of my daughter’s elementary school.  (For those of you unfamiliar with Nathanial Hawthorne’s novel “The Scarlet Letter”,  I will boil it down to the following nugget, “Woman acts like a man, refuses to name baby daddy, get shunned and branded with the letter A, is really the heroine (duh)”.  If for any reason you think that you should watch the movie with Demi Moore, I would check yourself before you wreck yourself.  Watch Easy A – it just feels more like Hester)

So back to the As the Elementary World Turns, I apparently do not fit in with the “cool” kids.  I don’t wear the appropriate Stepford Wives uniform, nor do I frequent the gym and hook up with my professional trainer (hence the pitying looks for my fat ass), nor do I go every day to my daughter’s classroom to help out, I (occasionally) miss my daughter’s school parties (where other parents feel the need to adopt my child since no one should be left behind), and OMG GASP GASP CHOKE CHOKE, I commit the GREATEST sin of ALL MANKIND……(are you ready)….I…..I…..I….I….work (FOR SHAME).

OH THE HUMANITY, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT….HOLISHIT BALLS BATMAN….WHAT A HORRIBLE MOTHER…..  Yes, my friends, I work.  I have a full time job.  Now before any of my friends who are stay at home Mom’s that are reading my blog get their panties all wadded up in their bachina.  I am not talking about you guys, nor am I in any way dissing those Moms’s that stay home.  I am dissing those Moms who have taken staying at home to a whole new High School Musical level.

 I wish I could stay at home with my girls (sometimes), but I also need the second income and I enjoying working outside of my home.  I always (and I do mean always) give props to my friends that stay home with their kids.  They have a much more difficult job than me, there are no breaks, no salary increases or bonus, their husbands are sometimes away a little more often (Holla to R & H) and for the most part, their jobs are thankless from others but wonderful for their kids.

My youngest daughter once told me when I was working on a deadline that she hoped that I got fired because that would mean that I could be with her at home always.  Now, that shit tears up my heart.  But the crazy crap that really makes me feel like I should be branded with the letter A for “Abnormal” and forced to wear scarlet instead of the Stepford Wives uniform of Juicy Couture, is when one of those Juicy Club Moms gives me “the tone”. 

And here is a selection of actual shit that gets said to me…

“Oh, you are (insert Ankle Biters name) Mom, oh, I didn’t know who you were because I only see your nanny.”  (Bitch please, you saw me last week dropping the kids off)

“Oh, I can tell that you work, I have never see you at the school”

“Oh, you work huh, boy, it shows, (long suffering juicy sigh) I just could never be away from my child for that long, I just want to be here to fulfill every one of their needs and make every day the best possible day that they could ever have, it must be hard not to do that, huh.”  (Bitch, I want to cunt punch you so bad right now…..I could actually brand you with a scarlet letter…..”T” for Twatwaffle.

“Oh, we were going out to coffee after the gym, Jana, do you want to go?  Oh, no, that right, you work.” (SMACK YOU NOW)

Then, then I have to listen to the drivel that comes out of their mouths…….they must think that I have an eye tick because I am constantly rolling my eyes.

The best part is when I am actually trying to have a conversation with them and they then see someone else who is much higher in the Juicy Twatwaffle Social ladder and they leave you, mid conversation, to SQUEEE…….OMG…..BESTIE……You look so great today…..OMG……Jonny (come on…you know you’ve seen the new spelling of kids names)  was like totally acting up today and I was like….BOY….I’m gonna smack you…..and my hubby….OMG…..he doesn’t do anything.   Gym later…SQUEE…then we will like totally have to go to the wine bar on Friday…cause….SQUEEE….I so need a break.

I guess that the long and short of this, is that while I miss my girls with a desperation that aches in my heart and at times makes me feel like I am the worst mother in the world, I like who I am.  I may not be the perfect Mom, I may not wear the perfect shade of juicy pink or have a pair of UGGS for each day of the week, or have the perfect size 6 body, or have all of the perfect friends on our perfect play date, or perfectly make dinner by 5 p.m. every day……instead…..I will brand myself as “A”…….for rocking the Absurdly Abnormal.

And to my small, yet scrappy, set of girls that join me in the abnormal world, I salute you.  Cause if I was around those Juicy Twatwaffles everyday........weaves would be a-flyin.  And if I don't tell you girls everyday, I love you, we might we a small group, but at least we have got each other.

Mandatory Blow Job Day

Well, it’s Valentine’s Day!  And while I love my hubby, I really hate the commercialism of Valentine’s Day, its quite re-cockulous.

So while I happily got nookie this morning (Holla)  

I was thinking that today of all days is the day that most women give blowjobs.  I wanted to know what the statistic were, however,  since I am still at work (and blogging, muthafuckers) I figured that googling “Blowjobs” might be a small hindrance to my career.  So instead, I am going to do this lame post and show you some pictures.

WOOOT WOOT – Hold yourselves back now!

Just a thought for after the morning coffee, or a place to put your tea bag?

For the one you love, fold card in half

But they do go quietly to their drawers and stay there

I think these are my new "thank you" cards

I think I just agreed to sleep with the homeless guy

For work, I commute into “the city”, for those of you not born, raised or currently living in the Bay Area, “the city” means San Francisco, we do not call it “Frisco” or “SF”, it is simply “the city”.   

Anyway, I often travel to the city and a lot of times to Occupy Oakland or if I am really lucky into the killing fields of 14^th and International (very bad part of Oakland).  Anyway, it is on these trips when I schlep from office to office that I get to experience the entertainment of the streets.  And before, all of you go all agro on me about why people are homeless, let’s just say that I know and I am sympathetic – I’ve bought them coffee, food, given them money and have listened patiently why they have told me their woes and yes, for those ones that weren’t too germy, I’ve even given a hug (once, then I poured an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on my clothes).

I even, albeit accidently told one that I would sleep with him.  You see it just came out, and this is where I could take my non-working filter out and smash it into oblivion.   I was minding my own business, trudging my ass down Spear Street, when I pass this homeless man in an alcove who is laying down with newspapers covering the majority of his body and part of his face.  I think that I stared at him longer than most, as I was passing by; I was wondering if he was dead or alive so I was totally floored when he opened his eyes and looked right at me.  Startled, we held eye contact. 

That’s when he yelled at me in his best Charlton Heston voice, “Imma gonna get ya, and Imma gonna fuck ya!”  Time froze, and everyone around me paused for a minute to see what I was going to say.  All that came out of my mouth was, “Dude, you are so on if you can catch me”.  Then the horrified feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, the suit passing by me totally gave me the look that said I either had big balls or was incredibly stupid.  I settled on big balls, but walked VERY QUICKLY to the next block. 

I called my husband on the phone as I hit the next intersection and he was cackling hysterically and said that he was glad that I didn’t cheat on him with the homeless man. 

I’ve been around the homeless in Manhattan when I was in my early 20’s and other than them being incredibly rude and following you demanding money, or when you offer them a coffee and hamburger, asking why you didn’t get them creamer and ketchup,  I wasn’t too impressed with their flair. 

In San Francisco, the homeless seem to have more flair. 

I once witnessed a guy falling to the concrete sidewalk where he was screaming and sobbing, as he picked up a nickel off the ground.  He looked at his nickel lovingly, and then yelled, “WHY DID YOU DO DAT?  WHAT DID I TELL YOU, STAY IN MA POCKET, I PUT YOU IN MA POCKET AND YOU DONE JUMPED OUT OF MA POCKET, STAY IN MA POCKET.”  He put the nickel back in his pocket, and continued down the street.

I have also seen some crazy shit go down in the City – I once saw a homeless man shoot another homeless man in the SOMA area (South of Market Area), I also had some crazy homeless man chase me down the street on his bike while he was yelling some crazy shit – thankfully it was midafternoon and I was able to walk into a coffee bar while he continued to harass other people. 

I also got stuck one time,  in the middle of the Eighth Street Parade (Pride Parade) and witnessed a standing ovation from the homeless people for the ladies with strap on’s as they passed by.

It’s a sad, twisted way to live, and when my girlies ask about it – I find it hard to figure out what to say. 

Except when they asked this guy, if he was gold all over – then I knew that I had to hustle them to safety before he showed us.