And whose idea was this detox program anyway?

I know what you're thinking - Hoodchick and detox? Oh wow, did she go into rehab? Hell no! I'm a little off my rocker but definitely not that far gone.

I came up with this brilliant idea that Bestie and I should do a detox program. And she's enough of a sucker to go along with it. Basically you mix some noxious concoction up with 32 oz of water. You drink one of these every day for 7 days. And it cleanses all the toxins from your system. Well, except for the booze and cigarettes and stuff. Sounds like a good idea, get all the bad stuff out of your body, right?

Let's just say it's not a pleasant experience. When you have to go, you have to go. And I mean right now. Sitting in a meeting with your boss? So sorry, I need to leave. I know you're talking about company strategy and all, but I have some toxins ready to explode from me.

Taking your dog for a nice, long hike through the woods? Oh crap. Literally. Hope that wasn't poison ivy. Feeling embarrassed for me? Don't be. Thankfully I stayed out of the woods that week!

Grow up already!

Back in September, LMP served my BIL with divorce papers. I was a little upset, but could understand if you’re not happy and you feel like you need to move on, then I respect that decision. I was bummed out about what it means for Mini-J. But hey, what kids today actually have parents who are still married?

I tried to stay neutral. But Switzerland can only take so much. As these things tend to do, it’s gotten ugly. Besides all the childish fighting (because they’re still in the same house and have to stay that way until it’s final) LMP keeps doing really shitty things to people that I care about.

Yeah, my BIL can be a real prick. But you’re leaving. So stop hiding things from each other (from laptops to flat irons) and act like you’re the adults. Hearing about the things you’re doing in front of your kid just makes EVERYONE think you’re dumb asses.
Yes, my BIL has met someone else. Get over it. Who knows who you’ve been screwing, besides everyone seeing you (always in a bar) with men old enough to be your father. This was your decision. Sure, you thought he’d never find anyone and would live alone and be miserable for the rest of his life. Because, as we’ve established, you’re a dumb ass.

Back in February you had a tantrum because my BIL introduced his girlfriend to his family and friends. You called Bestie to get dirt. You even grilled my MIL for information, about her own son, that you then turned around and threatened him with. Do you even care how that made mom or Bestie feel? No, because you’re a dumb ass.

Bestie invited you to an Arbonne party (with wine tasting) tomorrow night. Because we’re still trying to stay out of things and maintain a relationship. But you had to go to my MIL and ask her if SHE wasn’t invited to the party, would she watch Mini-J for you? Well, you fucking bitch, how do you think that made her feel? I didn’t invite her because I know she doesn’t drink wine and I didn’t want her to feel obligated to buy over priced skin care products (and she would have bought some, I know without a doubt.) Was it your intention to hurt this woman who has never done anything to you? Besides babysit her grandson for free while you go out whoring around? Are you a spiteful, immature little bitch or just a dumb ass?

Do I feel better that I got this off of my chest? Yes. I hope it keeps me from spewing forth my opinion of your behavior to your face tomorrow night. BTW, LMP doesn’t stand for little miss perfect anymore…

Hoodchick's back and loaded

Ok, I haven't written for a really, really long time. I've had a bit of depression going on what with the crappy winter weather, cancer dog, bf's getting divorced, etc. But, some of my friends are totally ragging me so time to stop lurking and blossom back onto the scene, similar to the tulips brightening my flower beds. April showers, bah! I'm an April kid and there's nothing like April to pick up the spirits.

Where to start though - while you all might think I've been slacking I actually have been collecting an assortment of strange pictures, stories and things for your entertainment. Well, they entertained me. The thing that amazed me the most is the number of comments I had queued up to moderate. Some are crap, of course. Some are funny. And then there's this person that commented the following, I'll remind you, on a blog called "My Life Requires Alcohol":

"A profaned, offensive blog...yes, I know that one does not have to read it, right? Pardon me for accidentally visiting the page here and reading a sample of a life certain ones wish not to live of it. Have you drinking considered non-alcoholic beverages and feeding on less junk food?"

Well, I will admit that I just killed a bottle of French Maid Cab (my current favorite) but the FIRST time I read that comment I was stone cold sober and my first thought was "You speaka english?" closely followed by "Douchebag" - neither of which I think the commenter will appreciate. Is it just me, or should they learn to use their internet parental control on their own web access? And, BTW, Douchebag, I don't pardon you.

So, anyway, to catch you up:
Little Miss Perfect (LMP) couldn't live up to her own standards and filed for divorce from my BIL. Boy has this been fun, you're sure to see more posts about this, mostly how much I think they are mentally fucking up Mini-J...

Bestie has a new nickname of TSO - THE SLOW ONE. LOL, that is going to be a fun fun post when I fill in the last few weeks.

And my newest bestie - CB - Cranky Bitch, aka Manlicky, aka TBD. You know when you meet someone and it feels like you've known them FOREVER and can tell them anything (regardless of how much alcohol has been consumed) - that's CB.

So, stay tuned and I hope I live up to my own hype if I survive Captain Clueless' wrath about my jamming to Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell album for the last half hour. Jesus, what environment did he grow up in to not appreciate Bat Out Of Hell. Don't you know that I need you? You gotta know that I serve you. For crying out loud you know I love you!

Is that a weasel in your pocket?

Wait a minute. We have to do this right. Go back and read the title again, but with a flirty suggestive breathy voice. "Is that a (pause) weeaasel in your pocket...?" The response would be "Yes missss, and it's llloaded."

There, now you're getting it. Came across this story a while back and had to save it. You know me and strange animal stories, it's like a fetish or something. Although if I had dangly parts I wouldn't be sticking something down there that could take a chunk out of it.

t's one thing for shoplifters to hide plunder in their pants. But a live ferret? Police said a homeless man in north Florida did just that. And he made it out the door before being challenged.
A 17-year-old witness confronted (the homeless man) in the parking lot and was bitten by the animal after the man allegedly shoved it in the teen's face.
That confrontation makes the ferret a "special weapon" under Florida law. So (homeless man) also faces battery charges for dangerously wielding the animal.

See what I mean! It bit that kids FACE. And what the fuck does a homeless guy need with a ferret anyway?

And think about the whole "special weapon" thing the next time you taunt a woman with your trouser snake.

(Authors note: Do not start lecturing me on the differences between weasels and ferrets. I'm on my 4th glass of wine and weasel just seemed to flow better.)

P.S. Brian Kelly, enjoy the money because you've kissed off all hopes of another winning season!!

Scrooge you too!

December is a stressful enough time of the year and right now I’m at least 2 weeks behind in, well, just about everything.

I haven’t even started my Christmas cards. I have gifts that need wrapped. Which, at work we “adopted” a nearby school that 90 some percent of the kids families are living at or below poverty level (and that was before the economy tanked.) I have to have that gift wrapped and delivered by Monday. So I might as well wrap the whole pile while I have all the paper and ribbons and shit out. I still have 4 gift cards I need to buy. I need to make 11 pounds of fudge, 3 batches of caramel corn (I used to make popcorn balls, but I can’t get the damn things to come out right since I got my flat top stove), 4 batches of no-bake cookies AND buy containers to pack all that shit in. Not to mention the crap I need to make to take to various holiday parties over the next several weeks. You’re probably wondering why I have to make all this stuff. Between my mom, my sister and my MIL you’d think one of them could figure some of these recipes out. But nooooo, they tell me my fudge is the creamiest, my no-bake cookies are the awesome-ist (which is true) and my caramel corn is just like grandpa used to make. They can never get it to taste as good as mine. Since this is the only flattery I get my head swells so big that I can't think straight and once again I get suckered into making it all.

Also happening this week, my dad has a birthday. He’s still telling everyone he’ll be 39, but really he’s turning 60. So we’re all supposed to go out to dinner Saturday. And I still haven’t found the perfect birthday card. My 18 year old nephew flew in from Oklahoma for a visit and is staying with my parents – but he’ll probably end up here a couple of nights this week. My 12 year wedding anniversary is also this weekend. There was an argument on Sunday that put that milesonte in serious jeopardy. I got in my car and drove 35 minutes to my parent’s house for a visit and still had steam coming out of my ears when I got there.

What with everything that I’ve got going on I said fuck decorating. That’s right. Get over it people. And (spoiler alert) there’s no Santa Claus anyway and I don’t have kids to appreciate the effort. It’s not that I don’t have decorations. I have a whole shitload of decorations. What I don’t have is the time or motivation to dig them all out and set them up. And don’t even get me started on the putting away of the decorations.

Now that I’ve set the background for you, you can understand on Sunday when my mom asked “Do you want a Christmas village set?” why I went a little bonkers. At some point during my tirade of “Are you freakin’ kidding me? Hell no, I don’t want any damn Christmas village! Why does everyone have to get on my ass about not decorating?” Around this time I realized the look on my mom’s face was reminiscent of that time I got caught smoking in the bathroom at school. So I quickly ended with “Oh, but thanks for asking.” Good save, right?

Can I get a Ritalin here? Anyone??

I meant to post on Thanksgiving Eve, but things happened and I didn't get to it. So, for an update - the dog's in remission for now. I got my stitches out (after getting in trouble for not wearing the annoying splint.) I didn't have to cook for Thanksgiving (thanks Mom!) With the exception of gift cards, all of my Christmas shopping is done. And this evening my internet connection is up.

Seems like everything's getting better. Well, except the weather. And I really can't gripe too much. It's been so warm around here though that it doesn't even seem like Christmas is just around the corner. I will wait until the day after Christmas before I start griping about snow. Maybe.

So, Bestie was trying to get one of those HP laptops that Walmart had on sale. Of course, they probably only had 5 so she didn't manage to get one on Black Friday. Then she tried to buy one on-line (price went up) but they were out of them. Being that I get a discount on computers I told her I'd see what kind of deal I could get her. I swear I've spent 16 hours going through different configurations and sending them to her. I think she's finally settled on one, and I know I'll have to go over and help her set it up. But that's ok, she does a ton of stuff for me so that isn't the real problem.

See, this made me finally get off the fence and order MYSELF a new laptop. And a netbook. So the Captain and I won't be fighting over the crappy laptop he hogs all the time. Should be a good thing, right? But nooooo, now I have to do something about the electronics that seem to be multiplying like rabbits around here. It's going well as I'm sure you can tell by the fact that I'm writing a blog post instead of actually copying files off the 9 year old desktop onto this one.

I don't know what my problem is, but I just keep putting this off. I'm fairly certain that it's been over a year since I turned the damn thing on. I even bought a 1TB external drive to make it easier but I'd rather someone just poke me in the eye with a sharp stick.

Anti-Thanks part II

Because life’s been force feeding me a big soggy shit sandwich lately, I’m going to lead up to the holiday with a series of suck lists. Hopefully you’re not dealing with these kinds of things so YOU can give extra thanks.

Things that suck about your dog having cancer

• Restraining myself from kicking the vet in the balls when he recommends that I skip the three pack and only buy heartworm treatment a month at a time now
• The steroid treatment that makes him drink, drink, drink and pee, pee, pee – so much for a good night’s sleep or working through lunch
• Listening to him whimper and watching him tremble when we pull into the vet’s lot
• Forget the cost of treatment, how bad is my bank account hurting from constantly buying him new toys and treats
• Realizing we’re both eating like pigs and he’s losing weight, but I’m not
• Wondering how long it will take before I can talk about it without crying
• Realizing that the funky tasting beef jerky we’re sharing expired two months ago, and I’m the one that should have known better than to eat it anyway
• Dealing with non-dog people who just don’t get it
• When we’re doing stuff together, figuring out how not to think about not being together to do those things anymore –

o like racing to and from the garage to carry in groceries
o pulling out household items from the shopping bags one at a time and letting him sniff them until I “finally” get to, ta-da, a new toy!
o the wrestling match that ensues to keep him from scaring the bejeepers out of the pizza delivery man

• repeatedly poking and prodding him to move so I can get into bed, then appreciating that my spot’s all warmed up
• Facing that I might lose one of my best friends way sooner than I thought