Some Rules Should Never Be Broken!

I have an issue being here in the new house. See I don't have the essentials here, like say a sharp knife of any kind. Cut the kids chicken with scissors, wasn't my greatest moment let me tell you. I also don't have a laptop or desktop, or a washer and dryer. That's what led to our latest adventure. Anyone with kids knows how vital a washer and dryer are.

So we made a happy little trip to the laundry mat. No biggie, two basket and two comforters- we should be in and out in a jiffy! Ha Ha on me. More like almost 5 hours because:

1. Had to wait for empty machines.
2. Machines only took powder detergent and all I had was liquid.
3. NO ATM. Seriously? What, do you think normal people walk around with 20 bucks in quarters in their pockets?
4. Had to load kids back into car for an ATM run.
5. Realize that the dang washers cost FOUR DOLLARS and .50 per load. Screw starting a llama farm, we are gonna open a laundry mat!!
6. Had to wait for dryers, and once clothes were dry there was the folding.

All this with two Punky Punks? It was almost too much for me. What really put me over the top was CREEPY DUDE staring at me the whole time I was folding clothes. I couldn't figure it out, did I have a booger hanging? Was he in awe that I was trying to get a 3 year old to help match socks? I tried the evil eye a few times with no success. What was his deal?

Yeah, I looked down at my pile of clothes and saw a matching bra and panty set laying out for the world, and Creepy Dude, to see. CD, didn't anyone explain the laundry mat rules to you? Allow me! Never, ever, stare at a Foxy Lady's undergarments unless they don't match, or have crazy holes in them, or unless they are granny panties (cause then your just asking for it). Don't openly stare at a perfectly normal stripey, not even Vicky Secret but more like the Target knock off brand, undergarment sets! Its rude, and it almost earned you a roundhouse kick to the face.

And so, the moral of the story is that when C gets here in 2 days he gets to do the next laundry run. Let CD try staring at my undies then! And if you are one of the other patrons at the Mat yesterday, I'm sorry for my kids. They've never met a stranger, and littlest didn't mean to consume your tasty beverage- she thought it was mine. Get over it already, I bought you a new one!

Living in the New

We finally made it to our new home!! Just days before Christmas the kids, Chubaca and I drove on up to TN and our log cabin house. Christmas was fun- but we are still missing our Dadda so if felt incomplete.

I thought I would share some useless nonsense this evening, just because I can.

1. I'm posting from my blackberry cause C has the laptop with him I'm Montana so I'm not sure how this will turn out, but its worth a try!

2. Dear Lighting Companies near Clarksville- Please help shop owners in this area! The Bass Shop light is missing its "B" and scandalized my oldest punk. The Long Branch is missing its "N" in Long and makes the place seem repetitive. What's the difference between a log and a branch anyways?

3. Always fun to meet the neighbors and find that the hubby owns his own tatoo studio. Lots of places I could go with that one, but my Mom reads this blog so I won't!

4.I always pictured TN as the land of old pick up trucks, old dogs, and cowboys. So far the only old anything around here is me. And maybe Chubaca if we are counting in dog years.

5. While returning to the car today in a crowded parking lot an SUV rolled by booming too much bass and rattling everyones windows. What does my punkiest punk do? Pull her hand from mine and immediately start shaking what her Momma gave her. In the middle of the parking lot. She stopped traffic with her sweet moves and stirring rendition of "I Like to Move It Move It." Madagascar 2 was prolly not the best stocking stuffer. She is too easily swayed by the jams.

So now that the punks are tucked away in their beds its shower time! Been having lots of baths cause I forgot the shower curtains in GA and I was too lazy to go to the store for more. Until today that is, and you can see by #5 how well going out in public flies with my Punks. Maybe I should burry them in a hole till they reach adulthood.

The Long Awaited. Hope You Didn't Hold Your Breath!

Wow, what a week. It was such a week that "WOW" doesn't quite sum it up enough. Lets get on with it.

1. In process of moving. Like to another state. To Tennessee to be exact.
2. We are moving into a LOG CABIN. A log cabin that has wood paneling all over EVERY wall. And wood floors. These people seriously like wood.
3. I drove myself to TN to get the house set up, and to take a load of our crap. Sans kids and dog.
4. I turned around the next day and drove back (to Georgia). To pick up said kids and dog.
5. Party hardy with the fam, decorated cookies, walk of shame ensued. Happens every year. Usually twice.
6. Sickness happened, yep- to me. Ear infected. Super OWIE! Not bad now, just sloshing my way around. You know the feeling when your swimming or taking a shower or something and you get water in your ear? Thats what I'm living with. No amount of antibiotics or decongestants have helped ease the slosh.
7. Rest of fam flew out to Utah. Here in GA alone with the kids and dog. We are leaving tomorrow for TN. Hope the sloshing stops soon.

So, to get back to the whole "walk of shame" issue...

We were all jamming out to They Might Be Giants "Flood" album while decorating cookies at Bert's house. This happens every year- and has happened since Bert introduced us to They Might Be Giants way back in the 90's. They were cool then, and they are cool now. Don't hate!

I was assigned to the role of "Cookie Picker-Upper" which is to say I had to keep the table around my hubby and the TrueFather clear of already decorated cookies so they could assembly line this process. And by assembly line I mean slap on a bit of icing, throw on some Red Hots, and move along to the next one. FYI, Red Hots are the only reason to eat sugar cookies, try it and thank me later.

See!?! I'm starting to get in the groove. Yeah Baby, yeah!

I was returning to the kitchen with a tray of assembly lined cookies. I was jamming out to "Whistling in the Dark," and something bad happened. See, I have what is known as a Ghetto Booty. Sometimes this ghetto booty has a mind of its own. Once I set it in motion there is no telling where it will stop. Picture Flubber, with a side of Jello and a pinch of Big Momma. On this night I lost control, I didn't keep the booty in check. It decided to keep on swinging one way while I tried walking in a totally different direction. I'm not sure what that dance move is called, but its a doozie. I should totally patent it. We could call it the "B-Dub Booty Shake" or something.

Ooops, I did it again....

Only it made me drop the ENTIRE tray of cookies. I, B-Dub, am personally responsible for wasting Red Hot covered cookie goodness. It's shameful. Perhaps it was my ghetto booty's was of telling me that I shouldn't eat any more of the cookies. Perhaps it was a cry for help. QUIET DOWN Ghetto Booty, I will deal with you after the holidays!!!

Walk of Shame. Or should I say, Clean Up of Shame?

And then, like five minutes later my dear sweet hubby decided his head was cold. I did what I could, if only for a few minutes. Personally, I think he just wanted a snuggle and didn't know how to say so in front of the TrueFather. We've only been married for what? 6 years. He prolly knows there is something going on with the two of us by now. I did have your babies and all. No reason to still be scared, if he was gonna have you iced he would have done it before now....

My issue with this picture is that my arm looks really fat. I guess I am gonna need a diet after all. And can you say "Serious bad hair day?" I obviously used a sub-par flat iron, and it was totally raining. Yeah, thats it! Rain.

I like this one better anyways.

Except I still look fat. And C looks goofy.

Bert and Me

I have a sister named Bert. She used to be Ber, or to some Ber-Ber (which always made me wanna throw up, just a little, in my mouth), then my littlest Punk came around. Ber turned to Bert, and my sis took one for the Team and ran with it. Now she has passed the point of no return and will forever be known as Bert. Which isn't as bad as my lot. I'm Mimi. And Mimi is like GRANDMA. Only I got the name when I was a whopping 22. It stuck, and my self esteem flew right out the window.

Orange flowers for the lining, brown corduroy for the "outside part"

Bert is teaching me how to sew some stuff. And that is really and truly dangerous Webby Friends, dangerous. Because they don't call me "Grace" for nothin! This one time, when I was small, I sewed my baby brother's index finger because I didn't realize that the machine would GO REALLY FAST when you stomped with all your might step lightly on the super sweet, looks like a race car, pedal. It wasn't my fault- he just didn't move his hand out of the way fast enough. Geesh, Slow Poke!

The latest adventure is a corduroy dress thingy. And I say thingy because I've never been girly enough to learn what the different styles of dresses are. All I know about dresses is you better wear tights, Punk #2, cause otherwise we all get a great glimpse of your underpants. Which is an improvement over when she was potty training and didn't wear underpants for like 2 weeks. Nudie Patudie indeed. Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps. Baby steps to the door, baby steps out the door, baby steps to the underpants, baby steps put the underpants on.... Sorry, I was suddenly stuck in  a "What About Bob?" moment. If you haven't seen that movie, well, you should. Hysterical.

Bert sewing away. I always get the little people to do my work for me. 

Life is better that way.

Anywho, so Bert is showing me how to sew a dress. Only I can't actually cut fabric in straight lines. Oh, and I can't sew a straight line to save my life. But what I CAN do is pin fabric together. Now we are getting to the whole reason for this post! See, I have always been the Odd Egg of our family. Not quite fitting in here or there, not really fitting in anywhere. But, seeing as I got all the TOTALLY AWESOME genes I guess it works out.

Sewing, or should I say pinning fabric, brought out this contrast between my family and I once more. I like to point all sharp objects AWAY from my person. Bert likes pain, so does my Mother. They point the pins towards themselves. I mean really? How many times do you have to poke yourself before the light turns on and "OH! I could turn them around and not bleed all over this fabric!" And they think I'm weird. I also remove the pins just before that part of the fabric is sewn. Cause this one time I sewed over a needle and it broke and shot my eye out. Learned my lesson, yesserrriee Bob, learned it good. Remove pin = no flying shrapnel.

See how MY pins point IN!! No poking while sewing! Genius.

See how Bert's pins are just waiting to poke any finger that gets too near!!!!

Hurry B-Dub! Move your hand before the poking begins!!

Doh, too late.

I did ask Bert if she ever experienced the flying shrapnel. And she has, but still keeps on sewing right on over those pins. She isn't scared, bring it tiny metal fragments, bring - it - on! Some people will never learn. And that, Interweb Friends, is the perfect illustration of how I differ from the rest of the Quackers on the Quack Farm.

This nut fell far from the tree indeed. It is rather nice over here, on this side of the crazy line.

And here is Punk #2, in her new pretty poop brown dress. 

Closing her eyes cause if she can't see you, you can't see her.

And she didn't want to wear the poop brown. She wanted purple stripes. 

So, she is protesting. Closed eyes mean YOU CAN"T SEE HER EITHER!!! (did it work?)

And I think I made the dress a bit on the HOLY FREAKIN HUGE side. 

Social Darling Frock GROSGRAIN GIVEAWAY!!!!

Social Darling Frock GROSGRAIN GIVEAWAY!!!!

I seriously need this frock in celebration of the fact that we ARE APPROVED!!!! We have a place to move to! This, Interweb Friends, is freakin fantastic news. The last three houses didn't work out. But NOW we have one!! I really truly need this frock for move in day. Serious.

Christmas Parties are for Dorks.

I decided that Christmas Parties are only for people who know people. And we all know that people who know people are dorks. I know people, but the people I know are cool and none of them would be caught DEAD throwing a Christmas Party.

Or maybe, I know a few people and none of us have thought about throwing Christmas Parties. Maybe, if we were invited we would attend. Who says being a dork is a bad thing? I was informed that there is a Christmas Party at the local bar every night till the 25th. After that it turns into an "I ate too much and spent way too much- Regrets Party."

Probably, I would really like to attend any kind of party. It would give me an excuse to buy a sparkly outfit. Everyone needs an excuse to rock sparkles. I'm just sayin.

This year I can't party like it's 1999. I'm moving. And in the interim I'm hanging at the ol' parent's house. Not exactly your party like it's 1999 atmosphere. Not to mention that Charley isn't here. BUT HE WILL BE ON FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!! 7 months of separation will FINALLY come to an END! Whoot!

So lets review- because:

1. I'm a dork

2. I know people who know people

3. I had to move back in with my parents till our house is ready

4. I don't own any sparkle outfits

5. My hubby is almost here

6. I am the epitome of cool

It has been decided (by me, B-Dub) that I must attend a party of some kind. Hopefully not a "Regret Party," those are downers. So, SITSmas Party (2nd annual no less!) here I come!!!! And the best part it, I don't even have to straighten my hair. Cause hair means care, and I really don't do that on Tuesdays.

It's nothing personal, Tuesdays are just not a day for hair care. Or make-up care. Or even change out of my jammies before noon (who am I kidding- why change at all? It is only Tuesday after all).

So here's to you SITS! I'm crashing the party, and there isn't much you can do about it.

I Call Her "Pretty" But What I Really Mean is "Special"

Anyone else have trouble taking pictures of a three year old punk?

I mean really? I spent an hour trying to make her self-inflicted mullet look presentable.

And this is what I get?

I know you don't really like the headband. But look! It matches the cheesy white fluff trim!

Seriously, who picks out a dress with cheesy fluff trim? What was she thinking?

Oh-no-she-dident! Is that sparkles I see in that dress? Ew.

I don't care if you don't wanna take anymore pictures!

You are going to sit pretty in this chair and SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT!

NOW!

Cause SCREAMING always makes Punks want to smile pretty.

Works never ever, not in a million years but makes me feel more productive every time.

No, you can't take off your shoes!

Wait, what do you mean Momma B-Dub forgot to buy you shoes?

What are you, a street rat or something?

Who does this Momma B-Dub think she is anyways?

See how great you Brother is being?

He knows how to take a dang picture!

Are girls DIVAS from Day One or something?

I didn't read how to fix that in the manual.

I demand a refund.