Apparently, I'm in the Minority on this One

So the Hubby's and my ten year wedding anniversary is coming up next week.
One day, out of the blue, he asked me where I wanted to go for our anniversary.
I was all, like a family vacation?
And he was like, no, you and me for our anniversary.
To clarify, I asked, you mean without the girls?

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Sonofabitchen Holidays and Their Candy-licious Glory

You guys, I love holidays and gifts and traditions and such, but why oh why must candy be at the center of them all the time? I'm typing this as I pick jelly beans and Starbursts from my daughter's Easter basket and stuff my face with them. I do the same with Halloween buckets and Valentine's day bags and Fourth of July parade sacks. I even take the good stuff, the stuff my daughter totally likes like Snickers and Kit Kats and Twix bars and I don't feel one ounce of shame for eating a seven year old's candy. It's like an addiction that I can't break. Hell, I don't even want to break it.  How can it be wrong when it feels so right?

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Easter Greetings from Me to You

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A Tribute to My 69

Everyone remembers their first 69. 
It's really quite unforgettable.
Yesterday I made a public and shameless plea for someone to be my 69.
And lo and behold, someone stepped up the plate, did their duty as a democracy-lovin American (or Canadian?  Not sure.) and became my 69. So not only is she my 69, she's a true patriot.
Please welcome my 69, Maasiyat from Inside the Bipolar Mind.

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It's Like an Offer You Can't Refuse but Most Likely Will Because Only I Think It's Cool. I'm a Loser.

You guys? I love my readers, I so do. It's awesome to know people actually read my verbal vomit and lame attempts at humor.
But I noticed this morning that I've been at 68 followers for a while, and since I'm all sorts of immature, I'm dying to be able to log in and see that I have that magical number of 69 followers.
Come on now, who wouldn't want the distinction of being number 69???

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**UPDATED** The Time I Became a Tree Hugger Didn't Last Very Long Because the Tree and I Got Into a Nasty Fight. And I Think the Tree Won.

As of late, the weather here in Sarcasm Land has been amazing and perfect, so we've been outside a lot enjoying it.
I've found that the more I'm outside, the more I'm contemplating the beauty of nature.  I take more deep breaths, I stop and close my eyes and just feel the breeze.  I look at the different flowers in a new way.  I'm just loving nature this spring.

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The Hubby Wants My Life Insurance Money. Fact.

Why else would I get into my car and sit on a razor sharp blade?  Hell, why was this even IN my car on the driver's seat? 
Actually, the blade wasn't even out, and technically a slice to my lard butt wouldn't at all be fatal, but you see my point.  He's out for the money.
This must be why sometimes a random can of corn will fly off of a pantry shelf when I open the door, or a can of Pillsbury biscuits will fall out of the fridge at me. 

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The Time I Became a Tree Hugger Didn't Last Very Long Because the Tree and I Got Into a Nasty Fight. And I Think the Tree Won.

As of late, the weather here in Sarcasm Land has been amazing and perfect, so we've been outside a lot enjoying it.
I've found that the more I'm outside, the more I'm contemplating the beauty of nature.  I take more deep breaths, I stop and close my eyes and just feel the breeze.  I look at the different flowers in a new way.  I'm just loving nature this spring.

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I May Be Vain but I'm Also Not Very Smart So it Evens Itself Out in the Long Run

This morning I took a quick glance at myself out of the corner of my eye while passing a mirror and frantically getting ready for work.
My first thought upon seeing that quick glimpse of myself?  Awww. I'm such a cute pregnant woman!
My immediate, second thought? What. The. Fuck.  I'm not even pregnant.
So my own subconscious was saying to me, hey fatty.  You look six months pregnant and you haven't even been pregnant for over a year and a half.  Do a sit up here and there, lard ass.

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I Think It's Fairly Safe to Assume I'm Famous Because Now People Are Just Effing With Me. Also? The Facbook is On My Shit List.

It all started with  my Facebook account.  I attempted to link my last blog post onto my profile to share with all the ingrates, I mean, friends I have on there, and I received notification that my blog has been marked as "abusive" and "offensive" and FB can no longer allow me to link it.
WTF?
So I'm all frustrated, but not yet pissed, cuz clearly this has been some sort of mistake. And the Xanax is keeping me apathetic "calm" these days.

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I Don't See Dead People But I Smell Things That Aren't Even There So I'm Kind of a Psychic. Or Part Dog. Hard to Be Sure

This morning my shower smelled like burned popcorn when I turned on the water and one time the break room at work smelled like moth balls and no one else smells these things but me so clearly my psychic abilities manifest themselves through my sense of smell and I channeled Orville Redenbocker in my bathroom this morning, the pervert.
These odd smell moments are fairly frequent and I'm tempted to self diagnose with Google but I know I'll find out I have a brain tumor and that's not good for my hypochondria or my preference to be alive and the last thing I need is a brain tumor what with the shingles about to break out at any time because I don't floss my teeth everyday. I also don't want to become Izzy Stevens making out with her dead boyfriend. Thank the Lord I don't actually have a dead boyfriend. Yet.

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The Crap Inside My Head Scares Me Sometimes

Have you ever had a dream so inappropriate and frightening at the same time that your subconscious woke yourself up with a start and you were shocked and appalled and a little sickened, yet still strangely curious at what was literally just in your mind?
That happened to me last night.  I'm not going to go into details, but I will tell you that it involved a bathtub, nudity, random strangers, flowers, and a bus.

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Won't You Please NOT Be My Neighbor?

Peeps, I have a slight issue going on over here in Sarcasm Land, population 1.
There is the oddest little boy in the neighborhood who has decided that we are his bestest friends in the world and he waits across the street every day, stalking our every move and God help us if we step foot outside of our house because it's then that he pounces and I suddenly have gained an extra child that I can't for the life of me get rid of.

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**UPDATED** I Couldn't Fall Back Asleep Last Night So I Woke Up Late but I Couldn't Call in to Work Because "I Was Up Late Working on My Zombie Outbreak Preparedness Plan" isn't a "Valid" Excuse. Whatever.

About 2:20 am, princess Wee One decided that she was going to be awake.  Loudly awake.  It could've been her 18 month shots that had her feeling grumpy, I don't know, but she was up.  And pissed.  So I rocked her pretty little self back to sleep.
When I got her back in bed and set off towards my bedroom, the hallway was pitch black and I couldn't see.  I was scared of tripping and falling and ghosts pulling my hair, so after I blindly and anxiously felt my way back to bed, I whisper-yelled at the Hubby that the flashlight wasn't on (we turn a little one on when Wee One gets up so we don't have to turn on hallway or room lights.  Because that hurts the eyes.  Try it sometime.  Go from full on sleep in pitch black to full on lights blaring.  Not fun.)

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