Little babyface snuggle bug.

After spending some time with my family in Dallas, thanksgiving with the whole bunch at my Aunt Laura's and catching up with friends- it was time to go see my momma for a few days.

It took me 5.5 hours to get to Dallas from Austin. It took me 5.5 more to get to Houston from Dallas.

I was a super grump.

I got to my moms, opened the door and was greeted by my mom and her dog Sadie and one other character...


My sweet little Bogie. Hes the sweetest pup ever and only wants to cuddle and be my shadow.


I'm a mama. Im in love!

I have been where the wild things are.

<For as along as I can remember, I have always loved kids. Babies- smooshyface, belly rolls and chunky thighs, sweet little gummy smiles. I love them.

What's not to love? No drama when you're a munchkin, other than when someone steals toys from you, tries to make you go to sleep or when you're hungry.

And truth be told, I still get quite dramatic when I am hungry.

All these tiny humans want to do is play, run, and be loved.

These are my people.

This semester I have been spending A LOT of time in the classrooms, interning in many rooms ranging from pre-k to first grade.

I should have been journaling this all semester so this may be long, but unless you have been where the wild things are... you have no idea.

Room One- Kindergarten

I was all geared up to go, out the door before the sun was up, in my best "teachery" outfit and sporting my new magnetic name tag.

7:30am I walked into the music room and introduced myself to the first teacher I saw and she said to have a seat and wait because the half pints of kool-aid were finishing up breakfast and would be arriving soon.

Soon enough children were pouring into the room, backpacks that were so big they stretched from the back of their heads all the way down to their knees.

They filed in quickly and knew to sit in their class lines and the music teacher started Toy Story 3 for them to watch as we waited for the rest of the kinders to get in.

I was just watching them with hopeful eyes and was amazed to see how many divas had chapstick with them.

Five or six girls all in a huddle whipping out their Lip Smacker chapstick and putting layer after layer after layer and SWITCH and layer new one on and LAYER..

Gross.

These babies were so moisterized for kindergarten, no chapped lips.

So then I meet my assigned teacher and we all stand up to go to the room and one of the little girls says "YES! Thats the one I wanted. YOURE SOOOO PRETTY"

Heh. Winning!

-We unpack and unstack the chairs, kids grab books and sit down and then the announcements start.

-I didnt see the American flag so I was just blindly facing in the same general direction as the kids and my teacher literally positioned me in the right direction of the flag. Stupid stupid me.

-I know at one point I had to have learned the Texas Pledge, but it has sense left my mind and I still havent gotten it down, so I felt like a big dumb then too...

OH THEN THEY SAY IT ALL IN SPANISH.

I was lip synching. They had to have known. Crap.

Other than that, pretty regular room, pretty regular day with the occasional wetting of the pants and when being told to go change in the nurse "because, babe, you had an accident, you need dry pants" they couldnt understand the importance. These pants seem fine.

Oy.

When they are in "lecture" or listening to a story they all sit on a big huge rug of North America. \

Well, all but one.

He sits in on the tile in a blue taped off square.

Which I thought was super sad and not fair until about... 8 seconds of being in the classroom and watching him stand up, sit down, spin around on his back, sit like a frog, kick his feet up, make bathroom noises, go get a pencil, put pencil back, do a handstand.... and repeat.

You get the picture? He was in no condition to sit in close proximity to other tinytots.

The amount of time telling this little boy to get it together was exhausting. It was like he literally could not control the movement of his body.

Wild.

One sweet boy in the class loved trains.

Loved.

Trains.

And living here- they go by about every 15 minutes and I almost cannot even hear them anymore. But when that locomotive came by-silent or not- this little boy would stand up and look out the window and watch the entire thing go by.

Not move.

Not talk.

Not even cause a scene.

But he HAD to watch it go by.

On the playground- mid power ranger game, if he heard it even TRYING to sneak by he would immediately turn to stone and watch the train go by.

I finished my 3 weeks there and thought there was no way I could ever do kinder. They're just too small.

HONEY HUSH, KINDER IS A QUITE DINNER AT WITH THE PRESIDENT COMPARED TO...

PRE K.

I arrive at my new school, meet my new teacher and class and am told that this is an ESL/ELL based school.

Meaning the children speak spanish or english or both (if you're lucky)

The lessons and instruction was taught in both languages. 

Which is fine, I can figure out spanish words in pre-k. Cake.

We are walking back to the room in a singlefile-hands behind your back-bubbles in your mouth line and I am watching this little girl LICK her hands all the way back to the room.

Who does she head straight for when we get to the room?

Me.

All dripping, germy fingers ablaze and headed straight for me.

EH.

"GO.

WASH.

YOUR.

HANDS.

And wait, come here a sec.. what that on your head? Oh... glazed donut? You had donuts this morning? That's why you're licking your hands clean like a cat? Right. GO WASH."

I am going to go bathe in antibacterial gel.

Love these kids, they mean well. They just want to be loved but they are some of the most disgusting co-workers to deal with.

Now let me take you to a place deep in the heart of Austin.

A place where "letting kids be kids" really exsists.

Where your work attire is the same clothes you would throw on to paint your house or clean out a garage.

A place where I belong.

on

This school was actually founded by one of my professors- one of the most enchanting men I have ever met. Full of life and love for kids and truly believes that kids are mini researchers and if you let a child discover on their own they will learn much more than you can spoon feed them.

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Children are given this HUGE playground to play on ALL day (aside from lunch and nap) where there is a rope swing, 20+ bikes of all sizes, sand, "potion", balls, shovels, dolls, trucks, play houses, big boxes, and most apparently...

Kids going WILD.

If I could get everyone I know to visit this school, I would be so happy. There is no way to describe how free these kids are.

Wanna take your shoes off? Cool. Do it!

Wanna run around in your underwear? No prob.

Wanna paint your face? Paint the fence? Paint eachother? Okay!

While I can see that this school would not fit everyones perception of a good preschool. This is everything I could have ever dreamed of.

When the kids are in a conflict or crying or really anything.. instead of the teachers jumping in and pulling them apart and diffusing the problem, the teachers are right on their level talking to ALL the kids no matter the age like little adults.

Oh he hit you? Man, that hurts doesnt it? Did you say you didn't like that? Did you YELL and say you were angry with him? Maybe he doesnt know he hurt you. Want to go talk to him and say how you feel? Lets do that.

Wanna just sit here and relax? Okay, thats okay too.

Like I said, I cant describe it to you. You just have to witness it.

But it works! These little kids are learning to communicate with eachother, deal with bullies, and use their words to say how they feel.

Its amazing.

Today was only the first day and I am absolutely blown away. I will definitely keep you posted. But I hope its obvious how happy I am.

This is something truly special.

Sweet baby Jesus wrapped in a cloth diaper.

If someone does not quickly get their head out of their rump and get some motivation do get some work done around here I am gonna go completely bonkers.

If someone does not realize that there is no magic fairy that cleans up, but that it is actually me, I will have to resort to choke slams.

If one more breathing soul consumes any more of my food, beer or otherwise without my consent, I am going to BURN THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND.

In my mind.


Because truth be told, I'm locked in until March. Leasing contracts are the pits.

Eym ganna looz awl of my marbles.

I am sorry that this blog has turned into roommate therapy hour, but HOLY Heavens above, someone help me.

In other news, my dad has been nationally ranked as the most wild wayne around.

While on the Harley in Arkansas, they were driving up a mountain road that seemed to be a pretty blissful trip until, legend says, that a BEAR walked out in front of them.

I wish I could say that my dad wrestled the best with his bare hands and shamed that bear for ever coming out on his Harley path but...

Papa ain't no fool, and as soon as he spotted this bear who was not into playing games, he "shut it down and turned around."

So it's almost like he beat a bear.


But at least he saw one! Not one that was a robot bear in a zoo. A real one.


Living on the wild side, David Wayne.

Where I am lately.

This blog will mean nothing to you if you can't access your speakers.

I have recorded a few things that have happened lately that I'd like to share, and you can't fully enjoy if you can't hear them, DOY. (Rhyming.) Some good, some bad, some ugly, some funny. Just life.

 

 

 

 

 

(One of) my best friends, Jackie is a RA, (resident assistant) meaning she lives in a dorm with all the bright eyed freshman and makes sure these hoodrats stay in line.

This is her 4th year of torturing herself with this job, but she says its worth it because she gets free housing but.. somethings just don't fly with her.

 

I was trying to leave after our traditional Teen Mom night and when we got to the elevator some kids were playing on the elevator and making the bell go off. Naturally they were gone when the elevator reached our floor. Last week when I was there, she had to stop about 6 students in the halls because they were LITERALLY sprinting up and down the halls of a dorm hall sounding like a bunch of water buffalo.

 

I think its funny. She hates it, but I'd rather pluck than do this.. i think. Don't quote me.

 

Also, Happy Birthday Squirrelfriend. I love you!

It also started POURING here in San Marcos about 20 minutes ago and is supposed to rain all night so I text her and said thank you for bringing the rain down from the heavens, she said youre welcome, and I said oh, but I just got a text from someone and sent her.. "Makin it rain on dem hoes" -Jesus.

 

So, Thank you 6 pound 8 oz baby Jesus, we needed this rain.

 

In other super important news--

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BOBBA!* LOVE YOU LOVE YOU LOVE YOU!

 

*Bobba= Momma. Try saying MOMMA with a stuffed up nose.. comes out bobba.. which she now answers to.

 

This weekend I went to Sugar Land to celebrate my sweet little pumpkin seed's birthday. We had such a blast together.

 

We went to see dinosaurs.

 

 

We saw crystals.

 

We sang songs. :) He's got some talent.

 

 

 

And did some swimming.

 

Can you tell how much I love this boy?

 

On Friday night we all went to dinner for Mr. Five's birthday and he got SO many toys. He was so excited.

 

We went home, got baby kid in bed, OB was on the couch asleep and around 1:00am I secretly let someone in...

 

 

My mom first woke up and saw BB, the chihuahua, and assumed it was Jackie's dog. (I lied to her and said Jackie was coming by so she wouldnt set the alarm.. then she lifted her sleepy head again and saw MONKEY!

 

All the way from Dallas, her granddogs came to surprise her. :)

She kept saying, "But whyy are they heeeree? What are they doing here?"

 

Sleepy brain had no idea what was going on, and then I told her Eric and Chani were also here and she was SO excited! Good surprise for the mama!

 

Saturday we woke up and did some swimmin and lounging around the house.

 

 

The people that live behind my parents have a Russian Cucumber plant.. or at least I think thats what it was called. These things were HUUUGE and the vine was coming over our fence along with these James and the Giant Peach sized cucumbers. We cracked one open and it smelled just like a cucumber. (Imagine that) Pretty nuts!

 

All in all a super excellent weekend with my family.

 

Here's the ugly:

 

 

 

This. Is. What. I. Came. Home. To.

 

Okay, to be fair, we all have our days when the apt gets out of hand, but LITERALLY every surface was covered in stuff and there was trash EVERYWHERE. I could not take it anymore.

 

I had a baby-mini-very-small HUGE freak out and left the apartment and headed to my safe haven.. Target.

 

After speaking to my mom, Kelli, and my sister Carlie, it occurred to me I had to take action.

 

One of my roommates met me back at the crime scene and helped me clean everything back up to a livable climate. She cleaned up most of the kitchen while I cleaned the rest, but she left the breakfast buffet to be cleaned by its rightful owner.

 

The trash that had accumulated in the living room by the other person who inhabits this apartment I carefully shoved back into the box all the crap came in and set everything on her bed.

 

Notice I said SET?

 

Keep that word in mind.

 

 

So we cleaned up, and headed out for a drink and as soon as we walked in, we saw the dirty little hamster at the bar, and within 3 minutes she left.

 

She was obviously upset about something..

 

but not as upset as she was going to beeee...

 

 

So I get a series of texts:

 

Her- Hey did you clean today? Looks great.

Me- Yeah, Moosh and I did. Thank you.

Her- Oh okay so it was both of you?

Me- Yep just kinda freaked out and got it done. It was funky.

Her- Cool well I helped out too. Appreciate it.

 

 

So I get home, walk into the kitchen and everything looks exactly the same... walk into the living room and everything that I had put in her room was THROWN ALL OVER THE LIVING ROOM again.

 

Walk into my bedroom and theres like 14 pieces of mail? and other random things chunked into my room, look into my other roommates room and her room has been peppered with trash too.

 

When I say that I came unglued... its an understatement.

 

There were some words exchanged, loudly. There were tears that did not come from these beautiful blue eyes. There was a lot of anger.

 

Moosh came home this morning and walked into her room to find that her room had been poluted with trash that was in the trashcan, stuff from the refrigerator, and mail.

 

She screamed at the top of her lungs and punched the offenders door. It sounded like someone was being murdered.

 

I sat this one out in my room.

 

Its been a good day.

 

2/3rds of us are speaking, and the other third is MIA.

 

 

HOLY UNCLE SAM AND JESUS ABOVE, SOMEONE SAVE ME.

 

.... I just walked out to see this:

 

 

God is good.

 

 

Big exhale.

 

Phew. This is a perfect transition.  I just want to share two more videos, they are both covers of songs, sung by one of my best friends, Ross, and the other by his little brother Lewis.

 

I wish I could open my mouth and have beautiful sounds come out, but at this point all that comes out is yelling rage.

 

Anyway, these will brighten your day.

 

First one is a cover of Someone Like You by Adele. Sung by my favorite little divo- Ross.

 

 

And this is his little brother, Lewis.

 

 

Love those boys.

 

See, it was good, stung a little, and now it's good again.

 

 

Happy Birthday, Mama. I love you!

 

 

And coming up sooner than I think she'd like

 

 

Somebody else has a birthday coming up reaaaalllll soon! :)

 

 

XOXOXOXOXO.

 

Trust no man with a rat tail.

It has been brought to my attention that this is "my type" of guy:

Juicehead gorilla douchebag.

Big and stupid.

But so strong.. (ish)

Some downfalls of liking a swollja-

1. The amount of time the two of you will spend in the mirror looking at his muscles.

2. The amount of time you two will spend looking at a new vein that appeared.

3. The amount of time that you, alone will spend feeding the ego of these muscle retards.

Its exhausting.

And kind of stupid.

And I dont think I will ever understand why a bulging vein is a good thing...?

You look like the Hulk.

But you know, we have all been guilty of wearing rose colored glasses and when you're caught up in a relationship, you try to talk yourself into accepting things that normally wouldn't fly.

Eh, he doesn't know how to spell... its okay, that just means ILL always be the smart one. Maybe hes good at math.

He is losing his hair at 20... no.. thats fine... I like bald.. bald is good.

He doesn't have a job... of the tax paying/non felony kind....

Okay, thats... okay... he can just.. uh.. make his own hours?

The first time he told me he loved me was right after I ripped a loud fart on accident..

(Okay, yeah, I didnt catch on to that until way after the fact. That shoulda been a red flag to our love. HA!)

Anyway--

Sometimes, I even surprise myself. Recently I started dating a guy that I have known for a while. Completely not my type, we're kind of the same size..

No big muscles other than mine in this story.

But I thought, It'll be fine.. really.. hes a nice guy and maybe "my type" isn't  good time considering I am single and spend way too much time buying my own drinks at a bar.

OKAY so, I gave it a go.

I mean a real go!

I even got the mind trickery down.

Its fine that he was a theatre major. Its a little gay. But maybe he had a good purpose for it.

Its TOTALLY fine that he drives a car that looks like this:

(Not kidding. His rear is covered in stickers.)

Even though he has a freakin' cat, I really like this guy.. Who cares if I can't ever breathe or see when I am at his house? I can deal with this.

But let me tell you at what point I knew I should just throw in the towel.

I met up with said theatre master after he had gotten off work and much to my surprise

He had pulled his curly nappy hair into a ponytail and the first word that came to my mind was

RAT TAIL.

So then I started to question what the ef I was doing in this mess.

And shortly after things went straight to Hell.

We went on a float on which he told me

1. He has feelings for my roommate.

2. He thinks my blogs are stupid.

3. I am insecure around asian women because I kissed him in front of one.

And several other really sweet things.

So then it hit me?

WHAT IN  GODS SWEET NAME are you doing with a man who spends his money on bumper stickers, cat food, and hair ties?

So, I ended it, obvi. No man of mine is going to challenge me for most beautiful hair.

And I hate cats.

And I have a cool car, and yours looks like a unstable stay at home soccer mom's.

And you're tiny.

And last but not least....

WHAT IS STUPID ABOUT MY BLOG NOW?

Silly boys, don't they know I will always win?

Things that matter.

Hola, mis amigas! How has everyone been? I am sorry for the seven month delay, but.. quite frankly I have had a very uneventful summer.


But praise Jesus in the sky above... I am back in classes.

Sadly- no FRJ this year. Actually, I am not sad at all. My classes seem pretty normal.


Except one of my teachers is a moron. :) Sweet, but really not intelligent.


He reminds me of Simon Birch.

Cute, right?

Well, for an 8:00am class, I need ol' Simon to get it together. He took 30 minutes trying to turn on the projector.

And then started an icebreaker. (HOW MANY TIMES DO WE NEED TO BREAK THE ICE IN THESE CLASSES?!) We had to "interview" someone at our table and then introduce them to the class..

Let me remind you that most of us have already had at least one class together, because were all education majors.

On the board he wrote the questions for the interview:

1. Name
2. Favorite food

3. Have you ever traveled out of the country?

4. What do you like to do for fun?

5.What is your major?

....

....

Whats our major?

Everyone started looking around at eachother like.. uuhh.. eduucaation.. sir?

It was awkard.

Anyway, the class is a waste of time. I think it will be an easy A but for real, brothaman. Get it together.

So, to keep up with the icebreaker theme of my classes, I decided a good icebreaker blog would be good for all of us to get comfortable again.

Lets talk about things.

Things I like:

1. Birthdays!

Dis little baby chicken nugget will be turning 5 on September 15! I can't believe he is getting so big. He told my mom the other day that he was going to be turning 12 on his next birthday.

Smallest 12 year old ever, but man you sure are cute.

So that really ties in two things. I like babies, ahem.. "kids" and my sweet little cookie face, Anthony.

This Snookalicious sister is turning 25!

And this little gumdrop will be celebrating her 31st birthday!

And these two balls of fire have September birthdays.

I love birthdays. Its no January birthday celebration, but its still a party.

2. Dry Shampoo

This is the bees knees! Good bye, Bacon Head! You have been an unpleasant slight stuck to my forehead for far too long. See ya sucker!

3. Malibu pineapple.

Just a delicious drink. Tastes like a beachy vacation in your mouth. Minus the sandy feeling in your teeth, and no one has to deal with crabs of any kind. And just like the beach/ocean.. if you get it in your eyes it will hurt!

Hoodathunk.

4. Justin Bieber.

If you don't have Bieber fever you are silly. He is precious. Hes got swoopy side bangs. And he's just cuter than pie. I suggest everyone see Never Say Never. If you aren't totally in love with The Biebs after that movie, than you must not have a heart. Or love cute things. Or love Jesus and the angels.

5. Daddy and Laura are coming in town!

(Totally unrelated picture.)

And they are coming with Cynthia and Mike! Should be a fun weekend, if Cynthia doesnt kill me and hide my body.

6. These new babies.

Thanks Jessica Simpson. They're presh!

7. The Help

Don't tell my dad that i'm reading books. But this one is so good.

8. Other blogs I follow that you should too.

-Barefoot Foodie, Hyperbole and  a half, Cocos cuckoo world, The Spohrs are Multiplying.

On the flip side.. Things I could live without.

1. Amber from Teen Mom.

Big wad of absolute crazy. And loosen up on the ponytail. Your face has got to hurt.

2. Cicadas.

I HATE THESE BUGS.

I kid you not one of these man eaters was GROWLING at me at C's house. It scared me so bad I got all sweaty and flustered.

I opened the door to put a key under the mat and heard something like

"skkkaaakkkjhhaaagtgggeorrraaaalllll" and slammed the door. I told her that something was growling at me and when I went to inspect it again I opened the door to find a Ford Focus sized cicada waiting at the door step to eat my face off.

Screw those things.

3. Shower curtains.

My damn shower curtain falls down about once a week and it is the BIGGEST hassle to put it back up. I dont know what kind of stupid I am that I can't figure out how to put it up without the walls giving way for it to come crashing down on me.

Forget it.

Ill just shower without one.

Seriously.

Never a Goodbye, just a See you later.

Death is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.


Rest In Peace, Allen. We all miss you so much but know we will see you again someday.

I'd still pick you.

I know we have beat you down with TDS. (Terrible Dad Stories)

Like that one time in 3rd grade when I broke my arm at school, had Pawpaw pick me up and take care of me until you got there to take me home... where you promptly turned on cartoons and told me that IF and ONLY IF my arm still hurt after you took a shower.. THEN you would take me to the hospital.


My arm was broken. I had to wear a cast for months.

Turns out bones dont heal in the time it takes you to shower for the 97th time that day.

BUT, I must say, even after all of our TDS I would still pick you for a Dad.


I hope you know that I truly enjoy spending time with you at the Bingo hall when I come in town and like that you invite me each time you go.

Even when you made me suffer through Staph lady, make fun of me for the amount of tea I suck down, and the fact that I can't seem to get the "wild numbers" covered fast enough before the game starts... I'd still pick you for a Dad.

I owe it to you for my overwhelming sense of confidence, and sense of humor. Two things that are a big part of who I am, so thank you for that.

And I even owe these long, lean legs to you. Thank you for building me like a brick house. Even though I am stumpy and have the muscles of a body builder all because of you, I would still pick you for a Dad.

I have many fun memories from when I was little of riding on the hood of the car down the alley with all 3 of my sisters, going to ride go-karts, "mexican wall"- even though I was too little to actually play, I would still like to cheer you on.

I remember all the times I would call you at the firestation at night and ask you to bring me donut holes in the morning and being so excited when I would see them on the kitchen table waiting for me when I woke up.

I still eat donut holes like their going out of style.

I also need to thank you for the many years you put up with me paging you with "911911911911" because I wanted you to call me so I could come over.

Thank you for many nights at Nickel Mania. I still have a very fond memory of being there with you.

Thank you for letting me drive around with you delivering during your short time at the florist. You used to always let me buy Red Bulls (which I still drink) and let me listen to KissFM and never complained about it.

"Just The Two of Us" by Will Smith and "All Right Now" by Free remind me of you and I and the years after the divorce and how much closer we became.

Sitting here thinking of all the great times we have had and the great Dad you have been to me and E&C, I can say that I am pretty lucky to have you as a Pops. I wish I could be there to go to lunch with you guys this weekend, but I know I will see you soon.


Thanks for all you do, King Daddy Rabbit. I love you too much, and cannot put into words how much you mean to me. 22 years and I would ABSOLUTELY, 1000% still pick you for a Dad.

Heres to 60000 more Fathers Days with you. You my best.


"Samas"
Love, Doozer

She has created a monster. Make it two.

I am a successful, responsible person.

• I wake myself up in the morning afternoon.
• I brush my own teeth, wipe my own behind.
• I do my own laundry when I have completely run out of 'draws.
• I pay my bills on time.
• I go to work at a place that would make Satan's furnished hotel look like a paradise.
• I make good grades.
• I dont fail classes.
• None of the kids I have ever watched after have ever died. (Side note: I did fall asleep one time babysitting 3 kids and was only awakened and caught by THEIR MOM when she came home to grab something. Oops)

I DO GROWN UP STUFF.

My sister (1 of 4) is also a successful, responsible person. ACTUALLY MORE SO THAN I.. since her list actually matters and requires more than a 7th grade IQ.

• She is the proud mother of two special four legged furry creatures that only a mother and their Aunt Bells (thats me) could love.
• She is a teacher and has never had one of her baby Sweet-N-Lows fail the dreadful TAKS test.
• She is married to like a super stud.
• She ALWAYS got the 35 gallon jug of apple juice down for me when I politely asked for it when I was little. She actually did it so many times that she now HATES the smell of apple juice. (Sorry.)
• She never let me look like a complete reject when I was growing up. Except for this one time when she LIED to me and said that "Copper Key" was a really cool brand and all of her really cool friends were wearing it so I should stop being a brat in JC Pennys and settle on this sweet swag made by Copper Key. Liar.

Anyway, those lists are pretty trivial and don't really prove my point, but what I am trying to say is that my momma has raised her two little baby chicks into two pretty rockin' chickens.


Except for one HUUUUUUUGE problem:


We depend on our Momma for everything.

Have you ever listened to your friends and they say something like "Oh, I haven't talked to my mom in like 2 weeks, we don't talk much except for when its important." Or "Oh man, my mom is calling, what could she need from me now?!"

And then you make that face where your chin falls into your neck and your bottom lip sneaks up behind your top teeth and you try to decide whether or not you're going to tell your friend that you actually talk to your mom like... oh.. I dont know.. 27 times a day?

No?

Not you?

Well then you certainly are not one of my mom's daughters.


It dawned on me just now when I called her to ask her if my eggs that said "Sell by June 11" are still good, and if I can eat them without the possibility of dying.

To which she responded: "I love that my kids need me, if I was dead, your sister would be sleeping on a rock and you would be eating rotten food."

You see, Channana, my sister, once called my mom to ask her what pillows were good to buy and had a mild breakdown when my mom wasn't answering her phone. It's not that C didn't know what kind of pillows felt good on her noggin she just needed the "Go ahead" from the mothership.

Common sense would tell me that these eggs are fine, it is in face June of 11, and they have infact been sold by said date so that means, it's fine. It didnt say "CONSUME IN JUNE OF 11 AND YOU WILL DIIEEE"

Nope.

But I just needed my Ma to tell me it was okay to do.

One time I had to buy 2 pillows because mine were funky and my mom was on an airplane flying back to Texas and couldn't be reached, but that didn't matter to me. I stood there in Marshalls, pillows up under each armpit dialing my moms number over and over and getting voicemail each time. Finally I called C to ask her if it was stupid to buy 2 super fabulous pillows for $16.00 total.

We put our heads together and figured that yes, this is probably A-OK to do, and I should just do it. If I tell mom later and she says I am stupid for doing it I will fishtail back to the store and slingshot those pillows back at the clerk and demand all my hard earned $16 back.

Anytime I fight with my roommates- Call Mom.
Anytime C is upset- Call Mom.
Cant decide on a pair of shoes?- Call Mom.
Don't feel good?-Call Mom (even though she is hours away from both of us)
Bored?-Call Mom.
Need to look busy on the phone?-Call Mom.
Job sucks?-Call Mom.
Person at work made me mad-Call Mom.


This has become such an issue that last week when I was getting my nails done with my mom the lady said "Oh I always know that when her phone rings, its either you or your sister! You two always call your mom."



Shut up lady, I know.


So, this one is for you, LindaAnnChasteenMayeurEvittsNovakRochaBobOboboboOb1kanobe,

You have created some needy little monsters, and you LOVE IT.


 Thats just sick.

Things come full circle, don't they?

I am thankful for many things in my life- my wonderful friends, my beautiful family, my health, my sick dance moves, and most of all my super special ability to make God chuckle from time to time.


That's really my only explination for the things that happen in my life.

We all remember Short Stack, right? The babyfoot dangler that didn't quite "measure up" well, obviously I quickly ended that romance because I don't want my future children to be circus midgets. And by "ended the romance" I mean I never spoke to him again or answered any of his Facebook messages, texts, or emails.

"Hi, Hope your doing well. Did I do something bad on the date that you don't want to talk to me again. Cuz i thought you were really cool person to get to no. Well hope to hear from you again."

-Okay, other than your terrible grammar and lack of punctuation skills, you are a liar. You are not 5'8. You are 5'3. Maybe... on a good day... standing on a phone book.

It was ONE date. I would think that if someone doesn't contact me after the date, I would get the point and move on. Ive been blown off before, it's okay. It happens. Don't continue to make me feel bad for you.


Well, this past weekend my family came down and we spent the whole weekend playing in Austin and enjoying time together. Yesterday, my mom and I spent the whole day walking around, picking up little snacks, drinking wine and checking out the little stores. Our last stop was a mexican restuarant that I had never been in to, but it seemed to look okay. We walked in, put our name on the list, walked to the bar and WHO WALKS RIGHT UP TO ME?!

Thats right, Mr. Small Fry himself.

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?

Uhhh, sorry, I don't have a cell phone anymore, or a Facebook, or a computer so I havent actually been blowing you off, I just decided to move into a cave after our date.

No, that wont work. I had my phone in my hand, and I update my fb status regularly.


So, I just smiled, gave him a hug and looked him RIGHT IN THE EYE (cuz were the same height) and said, "See you around, talk to you later!"

Im a liar. Bad move, Cinderella.

As we all know, the MAVERICKS WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP last night so naturally I sent a shout out to the guy that I took to the Texans game... remember? The one who broke up with me because I said if we were together that he probably shouldn't be together with other people? Yeah that one. He's a Spurs fan (stupid) and bet me $100 and his friend bet me $35 that the Mavs would lose.

WELL BOOM BABY. I sent them a shoutout that said "Hey stupidboy#1 that'll be $100, and stupidboysfriend that will be $35 from you! GO MAVS GO.

And what happens next? Poor little 1/2 Stack of Pancakes "likes" my status.

He knows I don't live in a cave, knows I have a phone, knows I check my Facebook but DOESNT KNOW WHY THINGS AREN'T GONNA WORK OUT BETWEEN US, MIJO!


Continuing down Awkward Lane-

Last night StepMutta sent me a text and the conversation went a little something like this:

Her: Are you watching this?
Me: Mavs game?
Her: Yep.
Me: You betcha.
Her: Are you working? From the Father figure
Me: Nope, laying in bed like a slug.
Her: I told your dad that and he says: "Like a slut?" nice.
Me: Definitely. Thanks, Dad.
Me: Just being "receptive and open"

My Dad is a creep, with a hearing problem.

Last time I was in Dtown we had a discussion about why I am single and he said that my problem is two things:
1. I have WAYY too high of a self esteem. (A direct gene from him, I might add)
2. I am not open and receptive enough to people that like me and want to take me out.

I don't think that's what he meant by open and receptive, but I would have never in a zillion years say the word slut to my father, much less in reference to myself. Dumbdumb.


And I might have a sky high self esteem but I refuse to be with anything less than fabulous.

Im a fabulous person, YA HEAR?

The End of the World

Oh, ps- Apparently the world is ending Saturday.

Which is totally inconvenient because I have things to do on Saturday, like see Third Eye Blind, and hang out with my family, and probably play Bingo a lot next week with Pappasito.

But if this is the end, I hope its this exciting.

Know I loved you all.

See you on Sunday. ;)

We represent the lollipop kids.

Hello. It's me again.

I recently went on a (sort of) blind date with a guy who looked like he had the total package. From what I gathered, he graduated from a SMU, played rugby, had a good job, lived in downtown Austin.. things were checking out.

He sent me several pictures during our month long phone sessions, and he was super cute. I was actually under the impression that this MIGHT work.

One thing I could not get over was the fact that he told me he was 5'8. The past 4 guys I have dated have all been over 6 feet tall.

But then I thought to myself, my dad is 5'8, my step dad is 5'8, my brother in law is 5'8 and I have never thought they were baby munchkin kids, so I figured I could be a little less self centered and go on a date with this fella.

I actually got a little nervous/excited before going on this date, sent a picture of my outfit to my mom and sister and got the thumbs up and was told to "throw on some heels and go"

Let me remind you, I am only 5'2 on a good day with a proper hair teased poof and a bump-it.

So I figured I would lengthen my appearance by strapping on some 3 inch wedges. (I have really cute shoes.)

Out the door I go, drive to the restaurant, park and go inside to meet my new boyfriend.

He's sitting in a back corner booth  by himself drinking a beer and eating chips and salsa.

All appears okay so far.

I march right up, get his attention and he stands up to hug me and...

Replace Katie's face with mine, and turn Mr. Cruise into my date, and BAM. There we were.

This guy was a munchkin.

But I went ahead and sat down to eat, carried on with the small talk, ordered some enchiladas and tried to get through the next hour of my life.

Poor guy was so nervous and shaky he only ate half of his taco. I, on the other hand, devoured my whole enchilada plate. Rice and beans included.

Screw not eating or being polite, this date was obviously going nowhere so I might as well enjoy my free meal, right?

As the meal was ending, I reached down to grab something out of my purse from under the table when I glanced over and noticed that not only were MY feet not touching the ground, (which I am used to because I can almost never touch the ground) but HIS are ALSO NOT TOUCHING THE GROUND.

So there we are in a back corner booth, dangling our feet like two baby circus midgets.

My fantasy date was officially over.

Back to the drawing board.

Whiney little white girl.

Look, I'm sorry. Ive been meaning to catch you up on this, and I wish I could say that i've been super busy doing really cool things, but actually, I've just been working a lot and taking some super excellent naps.

Basically, I feel like this:





I work too hard-uh.


But I feel like Pearl. I neeeed my moneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey. And I'm just as cute, and I swear we wear the same size dress.
Not really, I mean, I know people work totes harder than me all the time, but holy crap.
With that being said, I must say that I hate the Spurs. And Spurs fans.

I know that you shouldnt use the word hate, but this time it necessary.

1. I dont have Bud Lite on tap.
2. I have never had Bud Lite on tap.
3. When I tell you we only have bottles of Bud products, I'm not lying.
4. I am going to add a gratuity to you, even if its only you and your little ninos.
5. Screaming and clapping and yelling "LOS SPURS" makes me hate you even more.
6. They cannot hear you when you cheer like that. Only the people sadly trapped in this building with you can.
7. Leaving me a STD tip (Standard Two Dollar) is not going to cut it, buster.
8. MAVS>SPURS. I'll be happy to see you lose the series tonight. Suckers.


Also, I think the aliens are here. This is what was in the sky over central Texas yesterday:

Aliens are smart enough to disguise their spacecraft as clouds, I'm sure. Either that or there was an atomic bomb that went off and were all actually dead but don't know it.

Zombieland2011.

I really don't have time to write as much as I'd like, because the chicken factory needs me. IT NEEDS ME.

But, rest assured I will be updating in the next 24 hours.



That is, unless I get scooped up by ET. Or Zeus.

Go Rangers, BTW.

Okay, one more story:

Over the weekend I went to meet up with one of my dear friends that I havent seen in probably close to two years, and once I got there and got the Lonestar ordered he informed me that two Canadian girls that were staying with his parents would be joining us.

I accepted the information, but was slightly confused.


For those of you who have never worked in the service industry, when someone says "I have a table full of Canadians" we're not actually talking about people from Canada. It means there are black people at the table.

I did not make up this phrase, nor do I know who is responsible for this terminology, but it's just fact.

So you can imagine my surprise when two beautiful white girls showed up and sat down. I could barely contain myself long enough for them to get situated before I leaned over and said, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT BLACK GIRLS! THESE ARE ACTUAL CANADIANS!"

Which sparked his need to tell these girls about our use of "Canadian" and they were not only super confused, but mildly offended.

We spent the next hour trying to A. Make things not so awkward. B. Explain that it wasn't meant to be degrading to either party, it's just the server lingo.


I'm pretty sure they're never coming back to Texas. Or America.


I need to get my drink on.

Living as a fungus.

I am pleased to share with all of you why I have been deathly ill more than I have been healthy this semester.

The answer came to me one day as I was raking crumbs together in the kitchen for a snack before I starved to death.

ARE. YOU. EFFING. KIDDING. ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!


I am sorry if any of you threw up just now, trust me, I thought about it many times.

My sweet, loving, normal, hibernating roommate made dinner one night and forgot it was on the stove...


for about a week, apparently.

If you're sick to your stomach, you are normal. If not, you're probably my roommate.



In other news, I have an amazing ability to misjudge people being asleep, or being gone because I have exposed my naked self to too many people in the recent months. It's getting out of hand.

At 4:30 in the morning I woke up with a stomach ache so I bolted out of my room to get something to drink only wearing my under-roos and I didn't see anyone and the living room was dark but 5 steps into my living room I heard a mans voice.

My eyes hadn't even focused on the world.

Was this Jesus talking?


Was there a TV on that I wasn't aware of?



And then by God's great glory it dawned on me that one of the apartment dwellers had drug home some lovely bar man and they could see me from the balcony.


Why they were sitting in the dark, I don't know.

I dont want to know.


But I ran back into my room like I stole something and just decided to tell my stomach ache to "suck it" and tried to go back to bed.


Sure, I should probably wear clothes upon exiting my room, but you would think people would be sleeping and not creeping on the balcony like a bunch of bats in the dark.

Weirdos.

Oh, Emily.

It is now 2:28 in the morning and I am just now getting in bed from my fabulous shift at the chicken diner.

Let me try to break this night down for you.


1. I walk in 10 minutes early because I wanted to make sure I had time to shot-gun a Redbull and get started. Oh how wrong I was. I was immediately yelled at to start seating people and taking tables. (I am not a hostess. I am not a menu walker. and I hadn't even clocked in yet.) But fine, I took and my first table and the night began.

2. We were on a wait from 4:50- 11:45pm. That is absurd. People, if the dumbass hostess is telling you it will take at least an HOUR for you to get sat, what don't you go somewhere else? Why not go BACK under 35 and go to Chilis? Why must you put your name on the list anyway and get into a ridiculously bad mood while waiting then take it out on the people who make $2.13 an hour?

Oh, because you're addicted to sweet tea and chicken. Roger that.

3. A girl comes up to one of the hostesses while I'm trying to help out and says "My brother is pitching for Tech right now on ESPNU and I really want to watch the game, can you change one of your 50 to that game so I can watch it? (Yes, we have that many TVs.) And my GM just so happens to be standing  behind the counter during this conversation and replies...

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THIS IS THE FINAL FOUR. NO WAY. NO HOW."

And shes standing there, all deer in the headlights like and says, "but, I want to watch my brother play... please?"

"Well, you can either go watch it at YOUR OWN HOUSE or maybe I can turn one on outside for you. But I'm not playing that crap in my bar!"

Sigh. Such a fine place to be.

4. I think I was having a stroke all night. While trying to stay on top of my stuff, I was rushing around cleaning up dishes and running food. I was walking some glass pints back to the bar when my co-worker shoulder checked me and the glass went flying... and broke everywhere.

THEN- I went to the bar with 2 glasses of water on a tray and was picking up a margarita, which I successfully managed to put on the tray, turned around and BOTH waters fell off. Water and ice everywhere.

THEN- These 3 fat girls sat down and ordered three Sprites, and I got double sat so I was hurrying back to give them their drinks and take their orders... got ALL the way back to their booth and some how dropped ALL 3 drinks on the ground. In the middle of a major walk way.

ALSO- I was standing in the dish pit, where we go back and dump off our dirty dishes to be washed, and my hands were super full. Made it all the way to the dishpit, tripped, dropped and broke all the dishes.

I was losing my mind.

5.  I had 7 abnormally large people squeeze into one booth and order 5 appetizers to start with. Which was fine because any party over 5 we can at gratuity to, so they were only making my tip bigger. One of their appetizers was chips and queso. Easy enough, plenty to share. Well, after about 9 minutes I went back out to fill their drinks or something and I saw Mama Large STICKING HER FINGER INTO THE QUESO then STICKING HER FINGER INTO THE BOWL OF CHIP CRUMBS and then LICKING IT OFF.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU COULD HAVE ASKED FOR MORE CHIPS, YOU BIG HOG!

Omg. Gross.

6. There is a girl named Emily that I work with and for some reason we have made it a game between eachother to come up randomly throughout the shift and whisper in eachothers ear how much we hate eachother or how much the others mom wishes she didn't exsist and so on..

We actually aren't fighting about anything but it's rather amusing.

Tonight got out of hand.

It all started after she tried to trip me mere seconds before I dropped all three sodas for those girls. The race was on. THEN she was standing in the dishpit with me and told me I was gay and she hated me.

Soooo I was holding a rolled up thing of silverware in my hand (Knife and fork rolled in a napkin held together by a sticky tab) and as she was walking away I threw it at her...

Well, in some sort of Matrix fashion this little shit turns around to say something to me as it was flying through the air and at the SAME time the sticky tab malfuntioned and the knife and fork flew out.

The fork...kinda...sorta.. stabbed her in the eye.

Not like super bad, or bloody, but enough to make her eyes water and for her to punch me in the stomach. Hard.

Which I felt like I totally deserved as I could have taken her eyeball out like a meatball on a fork. Whoops.

Well, it didn't stop there. She sprayed me down with sanitizer, so I poured powdered sugar in her hair. Which we both laughed about and began to talk more crap to eachother.. and she said in the most hateful 5th grade mean girl voice "I bet you were picked last for gym class weren't you."

Nah beesh, I was a cheerleader, SO I WASN'T IN P.E with you FREAKS. I didn't have to worry about getting picked for dodgeball.

Well, I BET you were a total skank and slept with the WHOLE football team and everyone hated you.

To which I replied:

IT WAS THE SOCCER TEAM! YOU LOW LIFE, GET IT RIGHT.*

(*Disclaimer, that's totally just a joke, calm down family members!)

And right as I was leaving the kitchen to go back and talk to one of my tables she SCREAMS:

"WELL THATS FUTBALL IN ENGLAND YOU BITCH!" At the top of her lungs.

Which made me laugh so hard I had tears running down my face and kept laughing while talking to my table.


She got me there. Point for you, captain hook.