Popping Boobies, Sugar Daddies, and calling it like we see it!

The barf apocalypse didn’t hit!  Hubby was all worried that with me going away on my “teambuilding” event that the girls were going to explode like Linda Blair.    Since we have debunked that myth, poor hubby did get stuck shuttling them around, heating up my premade dinners, and having to do their hair for picture day.    

According to the girls, he did drop the “F” bomb on them a couple of times, something along the lines of, “I am not your FUCKING mother, I will not tolerate this SHIT.” 

All worries aside, home made it through three days with no ankle biters revolting.

I, on the other hand had issues.  (Shut up bitches)  I had “work” related issues with injuries:

I had to build a boat out of cardboard and paddle it in a nasty green lake.

I had to “team build” with a bunch of engineers who were very clicky.  (which, at the end, I have to say, ended up being kind of fun)

I fell.  In the shower.  I swirlied myself around the shower.  And then landed.  On my boob.  The noise was so deafening, I think that the others in my “bunkhouse” thought there was an earthquake in Oregon.  I did not cry.  I whimpered (quietly).  As I was twirling around the shower, I jacked up my knee (it looked like I had two kneecaps) and my boob was so hard and blue/green that I was a tad bit afraid.  I was afraid I might have gangrene and/or I popped something inside.  (After note:  Visit to the doctor only resulted in medal winner for fall, no permanent damage)

I flew a puddle jumper from Bend to Portland and almost died.  Hand to God - 

the little old Abeula next to me was clutching her rosary with many, many Madre De Dios’s later, we finally landed in Portland.

Where the airport had no air conditioning, and it was over 100.  Outside the airport.  Inside the terminal it was 150 degrees with 120% humidity and 1000% filled with funk.  Fail Portland, fail.

So this past week of working away at the soul sucking office, I have noticed a few trends that I would like to share with you all.

Regarding my spam mail – Why do I have 82 emails in less than 72 hours?

Apparently, I am full of moles (you CAN remove them easily, whew), I can mingle with the Christians (no booze, no swearing = no fun), I can look at photos of senior people (ack ack ack), I can blast my belly fat with cheap auto insurance, all this to go along with a psychology program.  If this isn’t my cup-o-tea, then I can look at a truck driving career, where I can use my AARP Membership (seriously you FUCKERS, I am not even 40 yet), eat delicious lobster while checking out the scooter store.  

If all else fails in my marriage I can always date those Millionaires in the Sugar Daddy Club.   82 shitty e-mails, thank goodness for delete all.

I honestly think the end of the world is coming - between these jackasses in the news killing people lately, to the POLICE shooting tourists in NYC, to the crazy drivers only concerned with themselves, and the general douchebaggery of the public - its APOCALYPSE ON BITCHES.

And in closing, I wanted to give a huge shout out to  Kelli  at Improperly Forward.  Her little some e-cards photo on facebook made my fucking day.  After calling my MIL on her bullshit comments (over due and LONG WARRANTED) There was a lot of angst on her end for being called on the carpet.   Kelli – you are my hero!