The BLoG MuSe

Better than anti-depressants! … Sort of.

Daily Archives: January 22, 2011

Why Is Everything Cute When It’s Miniaturized?

Walking through the store the other day I realized I might have a problem. I looked down and realized that I had shoveled about 10 travel-sized items into my basket. Where the hell did I think I was going? Of course this didn’t occur to me until after I walked through the sporting goods aisle and I’m trying to figure out if I can buy the miniaturized versions of the tents on display. NO YOU DUMBASS, I DON’T WANT YOU TO CHECK THE BACK ROOM TO SEE IF YOU HAVE THAT ONE IN STOCK, I WANT THE LITTLE DEMO VERSION HERE ON THE FUCKING SHELF!!!!  The one that I can barely get my pinky into. WHAT IS SO HARD TO COMPREHEND?!

   Cute eh?

Now is also the time where I’d like to profess my extreme repugnance for Ugg Boots. With ONE exception. INFANT UGG BOOTS. Yeah I know, they’re still Ugg Boots but HELLO, they are MINIATURE so they are cute and I NEEEED THEM. So I called and told Craig about them and he’s like “You hate Ugg Boots” and I’m like “I know but they are so cute I think I need to buy them anyway” and then he says “what the fuck for?” and of course…awkward silence… “I don’t know they are just cute damnit! Why do I need a reason to buy cute Ugg Boots?” His response “You need a reason when you won’t be wearing them since they are for an INFANT and we don’t have any of those!!” Which then made me stop and think for a minute… I really wanted to buy these boots so I’m like “Well, I could steal an infant from the hospital and then put the infant Ugg Boots on it” I shouldn’t have to tell you that this sent him over the edge a just a little. “So you want to steal a baby from the hospital JUST SO YOU CAN PUT SOME UGLY FUCKING BOOTS ON IT??” And then I said “Well when you put it like that it does sound a little crazy… how about instead I buy SIX PAIRS and put them on Malibu, Payton and Amaya?” and then he says “Oh ok, so now you want to put UGLY BABY UGG BOOTS on the dog and cats? NO. FUCK NO.” And of course I retaliated with the only fair response I could come up with: “You’re the worst husband EVER! You NEVER LET ME DO WHAT I WANNA DO!!!”

These are them. If anyone wants to buy them and send them to me, I’ll pay shipping. Look how cute! EEEEK!!!

Superwoman is a Farce

Misery loves company. That’s what I hear, anyway and I’m sure that’s probably the worst excuse for omitting the whole truth from any situation whatsoever. I realized this somewhere about the time my very good friend, we’ll call her “Mama Duck” was telling me all about how wonderful it is to be a mother. Except the part where the whole reason I was over there in the first place was to “wife-sit” … which in a round-about and nicely put way, means that I am keeping her off the news and out of jail.

You see, I thought she was just an overworked, tired mommy that needed a break when she mentioned something about how the hours between 4-6 PM were like being a prisoner-of-war except better because at least as a POW you get they leave you alone for the better part of the day and they don’t know your name. Also, as a POW, no one insists upon being tucked in at bedtime because YOU DO IT BETTER THAN DADDY. (I have no idea who does it better in her house, it’s probably the one that doesn’t want to kill them all and then herself…  I’m making a point here) I digress, the point is that I really didn’t know that at EXACTLY 4PM on the dot it was like something goes off in these kids (GOD LOVE THEM, I certainly do) that makes them turn into evil little monsters that are flying off the walls and forcing us to run for cover.

You think I’m shitting you, but I’m not. There was 3 of them and 2 of us. We were outnumbered and I’m pretty sure that the laws of common-sense-warfare tell you if their team is bigger, you will be wearing the spilt macaroni & cheese and apple juice, even if you are SUPERWOMAN. Which you aren’t because no one can be Super woman. She actually only exists to make all of us female people (or race or whatever the hell we are, a gender I suppose) aspire to work ourselves a little harder  and to take just a little more onto our plates because damn it, if Superwoman can do it, SO CAN I. But you can’t, because you’re not Super woman. And here’s another little fun fact about Superwoman: SHE DOESN’T EXIST. She was just a normal person like the rest of us who put a cape on to tell her kid a bedtime story that got blown out of proportion and BAM. Just like that, cartoon that delineates how the rest of us are supposed to be. How can you even live up to that? It’s not even metaphorical, it’s just plain fucked. I can do a lot of things, I can be everything to everyone and I can cram an extra 3 hours into a day somehow. Did I mention I could Leap tall buildings in a single-bound? But goddamn it…. I’M HUMAN. So I can’t be Superwoman or Super-anything because by the time the day is over, I just want my pajamas, a soft pillow, and my blankie. Superwoman doesn’t even have that shit. Which I think makes me better than super woman. So eat that Superwoman and your cliché awesomness. I am not that. I am woman, and I don’t roar either because I’m not a lion, or Superwoman so let’s just get that straight. I had a point. It is gone. But Superwoman still sucks. Superwoman, superwoman, superwoman. (I’m a Brady Bunch kid apparently) There now I’ve said it enough. AAAHHH. Eat shit and die Superwoman because you made us all inferior and that blows ass.

Change the World

The world would be a much better place if your pants really did catch on fire when you lie!

Dysfunctional. Or Not

My “give-a-damn” is broken today. However, my “go-fuck-yourself” seems to be working just fine.


Sssshhhh!! My common-sense is tingling…

You Shut Your Mouth When You’re Talking to Me!

WHAT? So I’m realizing that it sounded better in my head.

So what prompted that outburst? I don’t even remember but I know it was when we were playing board games during our little mini-vacay. Which means I was probably pissed because I was losing. Who the hell wants to win at YAHTZEE anyway? I do actually. I hate losing and that’s why I was coming bac with some snotty response.

So we’re playing games and having a good time and before I know it my sister-in-law comes out with a bag full of presents like she’s Santa Fucking Claus. It’s a birthday??!?!

Yep. Christmas on repeat except it’s all about MEEEE this time bitches. Not really but I like to feel special once a year so… there you have it. I am actually the type of person who hates birthdays and receiving gifts or making anything about me. I’m loud and obnoxious and say shit I shouldn’t all the time. Basically I’m good at being a jackass but other than that I do not make a good center of attention unless it’s in a negative way. What can I say, I’ve always been good at hiding until I’m making an assface out of myself. Assface? I just threw that out there but since it sounds good I like it!

Well, it’s not like they don’t know me and my personality… My sister-in-law and brother-in-law got me this game awesome game. I’m looking forward to playing this game. I figure I’ll lose big time…?? yeah….

I also really liked the decorations. These presents looked more appropriate for the queen of England than for a jackass like me but who am I to complain? I love pretty presents. In fact I didn’t want to open them but since that didn’t fly with everyone, I went ahead and opened them and did something else with the bows

I don’t know why everyone was making fun of me??

It was time for cake after that. YUM.

This post was a lot funnier when I started writing it but then I started writing in the middle of a game and now I keep having to stop writing and play every time my turn comes around which means that I pretty much forget what the hell I was trying to say so really I just wanted to post some pictures?? What the fuck. 

I will however tell you about the sexgasm of fantasticalness that happened inside my mouth just now when I was eating my cake.  Red Velvet cake (aka Heaven) with Cake Batter ice cream (more heaven and a little OOOH) with Oreos  mixed in (ices the metaphorical sex cake in my mouth… which isn’t all that metaphorical since it’s actually a literal cake) Did I mention there’s sprinkles and a piece of kit-kat?? Sprinkles make me want to be 5 years old again when the most exciting thing ever was SpRiNkLeS!! All colorful and full of happiness. You can’t ever be mad or sad about anything when you have the happiness of sprinkles. They are almost equivalent to crack except that they won’t make you sell your body for sex and wind up homeless living in a cardboard box like a bum. Not that the world doesn’t appreciate it’s bums, after all we all have a place in society and without bums the bottom of the food chain would be the Jerry Springer population. And I think that might be scary. Now that I actually think about it, Crack and sprinkles are not even close to being the same.

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