1. Date (for obvious reasons - I've reached the end goal and I'm quite happy with it).

2. Drive across the country in Barnaby - he's just too old.

3. Live in a one-bedroom, one-bath apartment.

Let's just discuss this last one, shall we? Now, I know Emily's cornered the market on sucky living situations right now, but I'm just gonna whine for a minute about forced intimacy.

First of all, let's discuss that one bedroom. Now, it's not so much the bedroom that's the issue, it's the construction of the bedroom. See, in this particular apartment, the builder had the genius idea to make most of the floorplan open, and then to leave big gaps in the tops of the bedroom walls to promote air circulation. It would be "green"! It would cut heating and a/c bills! What's not to love?

I'll tell you what's not to love: sneezing in one room and the person in the farthest part of the apartment saying "bless you."

Well, ok, that's not exactly unloveable. But maybe you get the idea. It's that you can hear. Every. Single. Sound. Any. Person. Or. Animal. Makes. At. Any. Time. Of. The. Night. Or. Day.

This means: we have to be diligent about keeping the fish tank topped up, or the splashing water in the other room will keep us awake. This means: if one of us wants to stay up later than the other watching TV, we have to keep it on the lowest volume possible and the other has to wear earplugs. This means: if one of us wants to sleep in on the weekend, the other has to get dressed quietly and go somewhere else until they wake up.

And then we come to the other issue - bathrooms. Just imagine you really, really, really, really have to pee.

But someone else is already using the bathroom.

And there isn't another one. At all. At ALL. You're on the fifth floor, in the farthest end of a large sort of S-shaped building, and even the resident lounge bathrooms are at the farthest end of the S, so really your only option is to wait it out.

But you REALLY have to go.

Pretty much, it just sucks. Which is why I will never live in an open-plan, open-walled, one-bathroom apartment again.

Miss Me? It's still crazy around here, and I'm still homeless.

OK, now that your updated lets talk about weaknesses. I have several but we're going to focus on just one today. It's a special place. I love it. My kids love it. My mom loves it. If you know what's good for you, you'll love it too.

Oh, Target, you are a money sucking whore. I cherish you.

I'm telling you the longer it takes us to sort out all this lending business and move into the new house, the more money Target is going to make. In fact I'm beginning to think that this hassle is Target's sneaky master plan to suck me into a big, huge vortex of debt.

Mmm, Sigh. It's going to be such a pretty little vortex when I'm done with it.

Just in the last week alone I have bought:
3 Bedding sets
6 Curtains
4 Towels
1 Shower Curtain
2 Bath Mats
2 Trash Cans
3 Curtain Rods
11 Bins (I'm still looking for one more that matches)
1 Lamp
2 Pillows
3 Bathroom Accessories (soap dish, cup, toothbrush holder)
2 Shirts
and
2 Headbands

Oh, Target, It's a sad sweet sickness. I'll see you tomorrow.

Labels: Nutter Butters, Target

This post is coming to you a late (hey, its still Monday) because I have been quite busy today. I was in the yard all day working on a surprise for Emily's little girls (Emily knows I am up to something but not what exactly I am doing). During my adventures today I came face to face with my own insanity.

In order to explain I need to provide some back story. We live in a quaint little community with several ponds throughout the neighborhoods. All the ponds are inhabited with catfish, trout, crayfish, snakes, and of course DUCKS.

So, while in the yard working on my surprise I kept hearing a random duck quack. I live near-ish a large pond and I assumed a duck had wandered in the yard. The quacking would happen at random intervals for short periods. As you learned in my previous post we have two crazy dogs and I was afraid of what would happen if they found the duck before I did. All day I would randomly hear quacking. I would search the front, back, and side yards. Nothing, zilch, zero. Over the course the day I went duck hunting 6 times.

Finally, I was heading in for a break around 5pm. I grabbed my cell phone and headed into the house. I looked down and had 6 missed calls which was curious because the phone hadn't rung at all. While I was pondering the curious case of the missed calls the phone rang- or should I say QUACKED!

Yep, that's right. All day I was running around like a crazy woman looking for an imaginary duck. Somehow, the ringer on my phone had been changed to a quacking sound. No one has claimed responsibility but I suspect Al Qaeda. A new tactic to drive us mad one by one.

I'm working from a coworker's house today (Friday - I'm posting ahead because I'm out of town again this weekend), and I think we've spent as much time party-planning as we've spent working. She has the motherlode of Martha Stewart Weddings magazines, and we've been going back and forth between actual work and showing each other fun ideas for a shower we're throwing in a few months.

My current favorite party-planning site is Hostess {with the mostess} - most of the parties on the blog are SERIOUSLY over-the-top, but so much fun to look at and get ideas from. They've got party ideas for pretty much any type of party you could ever want to throw, and for a lot of them there are ways you could take inspiration and color schemes and tone them down from the site... maybe not spend several thousand dollars per party like the original hosts probably do. They also have great DIY ideas like this adorable cake stand, which I'm totally stealing.

Don't you love, though, what a completely different world Martha Stewart and her writers live in? I'm reading through the Weddings magazine and, in a section on shower invitations (shower invitations - not even wedding invitations, but shower invitations), they say, "The options right now are truly endless - from letterpress to couture - and suit all budgets." Really? The options start at letterpress ($$$$) and range all the way to couture ($$$$$), and that suits ALL budgets? Can I be invited to your world, pretty please? Can I even just be invited to your world as a commissioned stationery salesperson? Because I'd be raking it in.

It's well known fact I love animals, especially dogs. I have two crazy labradoodles that we often refer to as piggydoodles and/or kangadoodles due to their ability to scarf large quantities of food, snorting/snoring, and crazy jumping ability.

Last night we were watching The Marriage Ref (which is quite funny, mostly for the crazy people they put on the show) and there was couple with an adorable dog named Zeus. Apparently, the husband loved Zeus but Zeus terrorized everyone else in the family especially the wife. The "Ref" and the celebrity panel all sided with the wife that the husband needed to get rid of the dog.

Here is where I get all hot and bothered. The couple adopted this dog after they were married. It's not like the wife had no say in the matter. Dogs are not for everyone but if you decide to adopt one it's a commitment. You commit to taking care of this living creature for the span of it's life which for dogs can be anywhere from 10-20 years. Get some training for yourself and the dog, read a book, watch The Dog Whisperer, do anything but give in and take the dog to a shelter because most likely it's a death sentence.

So Zuess, I side with you! It's not your fault that you were adopted by a woman who didn't consider the full weight of her decision and is unwilling to do the work it takes to own a dog. Husband hold your ground!

Now that I have that off my chest (I really could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs) it's time for some gratuitous puppy pics!

I had a doctor's appointment near my parents' house this morning, so I'm working from there today, and it's so weird - I grew up here, but I'm so used to having my own stuff around. The last month or so at work has been insanely crazy-busy, and I could have worked from anywhere and not even noticed because I wouldn't even have had a chance to look up from my computer all day, but today? So freaking slow.

So... I'm bored. I left the dogs at home, since I had to go straight to the doctor's office this morning, and I didn't think to bring my sewing (oops). I went to Half-Price Books at lunch to get a book to read, but they didn't have either of the ones I was looking for, so I picked up a Stephen King that I'm not all that excited about.

So I'm spending my afternoon hunting down Doctor Who trailers... is anyone else as excited about April 17 as I am?

Things are stressed, busy and utterly nuts here. I'm currently homeless, living with my parents, praying that the lending goes through this time and TIRED. Sean had to cancel a trip he has been looking forward to for months and the girls think it's great FUN to live at Nana's house, while I try desperately to prevent them from destroying it. It is not going well.

So, I have a few blogs for y'all to check out instead of my pathetic little post.

http://www.mamapop.com/ A pop culture site written by snarky parents with a love for Sparklecorns.

http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/ Please just look at the url and try not to LOVE it.

http://heatherannmelzer.typepad.com/ An awesomely creative mom. Check out her son's spider man room. Ugh, too cute.

http://thebloggess.com/ LOVE, LOVE, LOVE her.

http://www.stitchcraftcreations.com/ I'm dying to find time to make some of this cuteness.

http://knockoffwood.blogspot.com/ If your handy and broke have I got the website for you.

These are just a few of my favorites. I hope you like them as much as I do.

Okay, so we are on week two of not having a full time job. I am now a domestic goddess with a part time cosmetics freelancing job only working about 19 hours per week. I am not sure week one really counted as a break because the Tovson's were moving and I had family in town. So things are settling down a bit and now I am going to get a real feel for what it's like to be CEO of the McGee house.

What is funny is that every time I tell people that I am going to stay at home and work part time they always say "Oh, that's not you. You will get bored quickly." I think it's funny that people assume I can't enjoy being domestic. It's not like being a working woman made me a ferrel animal and now I have to adjust to the captivity of of domestic life. I have cooked, cleaned, and run the house while working full time. I did have the help of a cleaning lady twice a month but that will go away. Other wise I am doing all the same things I always did but with more time to relax and enjoy my family and friends in between.I think the truth is that I am a perfectionist and I want to be good at whatever I do. For years I have been channeling that into a career. Now I want switch gears and channel it into being a great wife, running my house hold the way I really want to, and hopefully someday being a Mother.

Mind you it's only been a week but so far I don't see being bored in the near future. Today alone I managed to complete meal planning, straighten out a debacle with the insurance company, go the grocery store, pull everything out of the fridge and wash all the bins and shelves (a project I have been trying to get to for weeks), complete a weeks worth of meal prep, make dinner, mop the kitchen floor, watch a movie, and write this blog post. I had plenty of things to do and not once did I long for tedious conference calls or emails labeled: EXTREMELY URGENT REPLY IMMEDIATELY!I have a list a mile long of projects I want to complete and plenty of things I want to learn how to do. However, in case I do get bored I have several back up plans including going back to school and volunteer work. So nobody worry about me because I am going to be plenty busy.

I'm out and about today, on a mission to explore my own stomping grounds for my mom's new blog venture, Dallas Best.

This is my kind of exploring! We're in my old neighborhood, taking photos and notes for mini-reviews of all of our favorite restaurants, shops, cafés, you name it. The only problem is that we like the places too much. We keep sitting down for a cup of coffee in our favorite coffee shop and ending up talking for an hour, or going into a cool store to take pictures and getting sidetracked shopping. At this rate, it'll take years to get reviews up.

It's been a good, productive, fun day, though, and I think we've got some good upcoming content for Dallas Best. If y'all have any suggestions of your favorites, leave them here or hop on over there and drop mom a note!

So today I am Exhausted with a capital E because poor Emily's movers never showed up. My husband I spent the evening with the Tovson's and their UHaul. So today I am going to plop in you in front of the television and let it entertain you for a few minutes. It's going to be a YouTube link fest. I know it's cheating but today I don't care.

First, I would like to share a little culture with everyone. I heard about this exhibit at the Barbican Center in London on NPR. A french artist (whose name is too long and complicated for my tired brain to spell today) has placed guitars in the same room with finches. They fly around and create music. Although it mostly sounds like noise I think the concept is cool and makes you think about what defines music and creativity.



Now, don't you feel all fancy pants and cultured after watching that? If, like me, that feeling leaves you feeling a little uncomfortable then the video below should cure that problem. It's funny cause it's true-for some people,not me. Hi Mom!



YouTube link fest is now over. I hope you have enjoyed my lazy post. Consider this your IOU for one real post.

Wow, so I ate this weekend.

I ate a LOT of good food.

We took a long weekend trip to Atlanta, where we spent a day at the Georgia Aquarium and ate at some excellent restaurants.

When we got in on Saturday evening, we went to Woodfire Grill, where the chef was a finalist last season on Top Chef. We decided to get adventurous and had the tasting menu, which seemed to be loosely based on the chef's competition dishes from the show and was AMAZING. My favorite course was the sliced raw diver scallop with peekytoe crab salad (my husband says I liked it just because of the name), closely tied with the main course of sous-vide tandoori lamb loin. Everything was just fantastic, though. We came home with a signed menu so it'll be that much easier to remember it all.

We also went to another Top Chef finalist's restaurant, Flip Burger. It was definitely different - fancy burger bar rather than fancy sit-down restaurant, but I definitely enjoyed my nutella shake with toasted marshmallows on top. They also had the best fried pickles I've ever had... and I've had a lot of fried pickles.

It really wasn't only about the food - the aquarium was really exciting too. It's the biggest in the world, and we took the behind-the-scenes tour, where we got to see the surgery and lab areas and tops of the enormous whale shark and beluga whale tanks.



Oh, and the hotel? Ridiculously luxurious. This is (a terrible cell phone picture of) the tub, which I managed to not take advantage of. But if I had? It would have been awesome.

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.

I cannot get this song out of my head. It's stuck there like a mental peanut butter trying to drive me stark nutters.

And when this nonsensical loony song succeeds and it will. Only then will I understand the fucker. It's a conspiracy for crazy-town.

So when you see me a corner muttering to myself " I am the eggman, oh, they are the eggmen. Oh, I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob"

You'd better run. Because it's out to get you, man.

Labels: Nutter Butters, The Beatles

I am fascinated by compulsive hoarders. I don't know why. I think its because I lover order, cleanliness, and generally don't have sentimental attachments to possessions.

I consider myself an understanding and intelligent person but I do not relate to this disease in any way. I sit weekly with my mouth gaping open completely befuddled watching Hoarders on A&E. Now, TLC has introduced a new show called Hoarding: Buried Alive. I am not sure I can take it!

The great thing about Hoarders on A&E is when the junk hauling trucks, a team of hired hands, the professional certified organizer (I should TOTALLY be one of those), and the therapist help the hoarder clean out their house and work through their issue all in the course of a weekend. Now, I realize that this seems unrealistic and someone with such a severe problem probably can't solve it all in one weekend of intense cleaning.

So, last night I watched Hoarding: Buried Alive on TLC for the first time. They focused more on the mess and less of the clean up. They showed the incremental progress each hoarder made over the course of 6 months. I was disappointed. This certainly seems like a more realistic approach to solving the hoarders problem. However, as a viewer I don't get those dramatic and satisfying before/after shots that make me breath a sigh of relief.

On a completely different note what's up with TLC totally ripping of A&E? During Hoarding: Buried Alive they were advertising their new show Addicted which appears to be a carbon copy of A&E's Intervention. Now, I know that losing John and Kate Plus 8 must have been quite a hit to TLC's ratings but that's no excuse for being unoriginal. Nobody likes a copy cat TLC!

So to recap:

Hoarders on A&E: Entertaining and satisfying for the viewer but probably not as effective at treating the disease.

Hoarders: Buried Alive on TLC: Unsatisfying for the viewer but seems like a more realistic approach to the disease.

Note to TLC: Lock your programming executives and creative team into a room with lots of coffee and Red Bull. Don't let them out until they think of something new and innovative to put on TV.

I wonder if there is treatment for people who compulsively watch (and blog) about compulsive hoarders. Sign me up for that show!

Labels: Hoarding

This weekend, I get to eat at the restaurants of not one, but TWO Top Chef finalists. That's all I'll say about it for now - I'll tell all about it on Wednesday, after I've actually had my exciting weekend.

In now-news, though, my brain is FRIED. I'm so ready for the weekend. I mean, I've been sitting here looking at the blank screen for... a really long time. Just trying to think of something to write. And my brain is empty. I've done nothing but work and watch TV all week, and I feel like I've already (sort of) written about TV once this week.

I've also spent a ridiculous amount of time on the phone with my doctor's office and the pharmacy in the last two days, trying to get a refill for the same prescription I've been taking for three years. The only thing that needed to happen was for the "OK" message to get from the doctor to the pharmacy. They didn't need ANY new information - no new dose, no new amounts, just the EXACT same thing I've been taking FOREVER. But somehow, I've now made 5 calls to the doctor, 2 visits to the pharmacy, and 3 calls to 3 different pharmacies (just in case it got rerouted to some other location), and... nothing. Tomorrow I'll be completely out of the medicine that keeps me from having migraines, and I still haven't managed to figure out where the miscommunication is.

Can you even imagine how much less thrilled I'll be with this whole situation when I'm sitting on the phone with the pharmacy WITH A MIGRAINE? I'm sure it'll be charming.

Those who know and love me would describe me as a planner and a control freak. So making risky snap decisions is not something I generally have a reputation for.

However, a in January I quit my job-with no back up plan! I was very unhappy and working crazy hours. I found myself being grumpy, tired, and negative. That's not who I wanted to be and I decided a paycheck wasn't worth turning into a person I didn't like. This was my first big, risky decision in quite a long time and I was scared and excited at the same time.

I quit my job on a Friday. The following Monday my husband walked into work and was told his job was moving to Omaha. If we didn't want to move he would only have a job through March 31st. We were devastated. I felt like I was being punished for making a selfish decision. I have never felt so guilty in my entire life. In this horrible economy I should have just been grateful I had a job, pulled myself up by my bootstraps, stopped being a whiny baby, and stayed at a job I hated. I immediately wrote a retraction of my resignation. I didn't burn any bridges but I was very candid in my resignation about why I was leaving and to turn around and write a retraction was humbling to say the least! They decided not to accept my retraction but to keep me on until they found my replacement.

Since all this happened my husband has been on many interviews and has had a lot of people in his corner. His last day at his job is coming up and he will get some severance that will help us for awhile. I have had some time to come to grips with things. Ultimately, my company decided to eliminate 13 positions and mine was one of them. This helped alleviate some of the guilt

My last day at my job is TODAY. You would think that I would be scared about what is next as my husband and I both are about to be jobless. However, I have this weird since of calm (calm is rarely and adjective used to describe me). Somewhere, deep down inside I know everything is going to be okay. I have been happier the last few weeks than I have been in a long time.

I suppose the practical side of me could say "see what happens when you take a risk? It bites you in the ass!" However, I am choosing (yes, choosing) to look at this in a different way. I have a bad habit of defining myself by what I do for a living and putting everything I have into my work. I want to give the best of me to my friends, family, and the rest of the world and not to my job. When it's all said and done I don't want "One hell of a marketing manager" on my tombstone. I want loving wife, daughter, and friend to be my legacy.

(Cue the dramatic music as I post this, surrender my work laptop, and walk off into the sunset.)





To be continued.....

Labels: jobs

Responsibility.

It's the bane of my existence these days.

March 11th, is usually a special day for my husband and I. Almost every even year since we started dating we've been in New Orleans celebrating this auspicious musical holiday. The only notable exceptions were 2004, when we were about to be married and poorer than dirt and couldn't afford to go, and 2006, when 311 moved the show to Nashville due to Hurricane Katrina damage. This year due to a medical convention that took hostage to most of the hotel rooms 311 moved the show to Las Vegas.

If I was a selfish person, I would be drinking Rum and Coke, playing the slots, and trying to convince my husband I need two T-shirts this year.

Instead I'm packing up my house, taking care of the kids while he works 2 jobs and attends his indoor soccer game tonight.

That's right not only can we not attend the concert in Las Vegas, mind you, we can't even attend the festivities with our local 311 obsessed friends.

Sober and Alone.

I'll be ringing in 311 day by myself.

That's almost as sad as the fact that I just realized my two favorite songs, Beyond the Gray Sky, and Golden Sunlight are about death. It's not that I didn't know the lyrics. It's more that I wasn't paying attention. I am the quintessential Ass Hat today.

Labels: 311

So, since this is the week of introducing ourselves, let me introduce you to my family.

Are y'all watching Parenthood on Tuesday nights? Ok, take out all the weed and you've basically got the gist of my family. A big, loving crew, all up in each other's business (in the best way), running into each other at random houses all the time, occasionally chasing possums (well, armadillos, and that was a long time ago, but still), something constantly baking somewhere... maybe the make-up's not exactly one-to-one, but if you want to know what it feels like to be part of my family, watch Parenthood. Or if, like me, you're still mourning Six Feet Under and Gilmore Girls. It's pretty much the cure-all.

My immediate family? I'm married with a couple of dogs - Sadie and Miles. They're sweet little devil-dogs who generally work together to drive me nuts until I'm about ready to strangle them (most recent example? I bought Sadie a pricey new comfortable bed, which she slept on for two nights, then on the third day gutted all of the stuffing from - now she acts like I'm so mean to make her sleep on the nearly flat cover), then give me those patented puppy-dog faces that I can never hold a grudge against.

I mean, how could you stay mad at this?

Labels: Family

Now that you know us a little I suppose I should explain how this blog is going to work.

We have decided to post 6 days a week. That gives each of us two days and Sunday's off. Now I'm not saying that there won't be any Sunday posts, because as you can see I have already broken that day in, but it's an optional post. You'll see Jenny on Mondays and Fridays. I have Tuesdays and Thursdays and Bonnie drew the short straw with Wednesdays and Saturdays. Hopefully, with all three of us posting things will never get dull around here.

Now you may have caught my reference to children in my last post. It's true. I have two. Katie age 5 and Caroline age 2.5. They are a joy. They are a terror. They are my whole life. Currently I am the only SFB with kids. Now that doesn't mean that my two best girl friends don't want any children. As a matter of fact, my fellow bitches are working diligently night and day to make me an Auntie. And I couldn't be happier about that because honestly, those two are better mothers without kids than I am with two.

I'm one lucky lady to have them in my life and my girls are definitely going to benefit from their influence. I'm hoping Jenny's sense of loyalty, organization, and playful banter, as well as Bonnie's tactfulness, creativity and legendary literariness rub off nice a deep on my tiny heathens.

Hopefully it will work because those sweet girls are more like me everyday. All I have to do is look back to High School and be very, very, afraid for my future. Save my children, ladies. Come over and play soon.

Labels: Kids, The Bitches

I am a good girl. I don't drink, or swear, or rat my hair (shout out to my girl Rizzo). Okay, that's not true. I do drink and swear but I still consider myself a good girl. I was taught to be respectful, compassionate, open minded, and honest. I try to live up to those values every day-and sometimes I fail spectacularly.

I am passionate about things I believe in and I have a fiery temper. I can not "Bless Your Heart." This does not satisfy my thirst to make sure you understand exactly where I stand. When I get upset I turn into a real life Julia Sugarbaker.

As a child I once called my grandfather a racist. I love him dearly but I didn't like what he had to say and I told him so.

During the holidays I reduced a Wal-Mart cashier to tears without even trying. She was having trouble ringing something up and as opposed to asking for help she just kept scanning the same item over and over again to no avail. I politely suggested she ask for help. She turned on her light and stood there. Then I politely suggested she continue scanning the rest of my items while waiting for help. She turned OFF her light. I NOT so politely suggested she turned her light back on while scanning my remaining items so she could to be productive while waiting for a manager. Apparently this idea ROCKED her world. She stood there with a puzzled look on her face her eyes darting back and forth between the light and the scanner as if it was Sophie's choice. Finally, I said "How about we get that manager right behind you to come over and help us." The concept of exiting the protected walls of her cashier fortress and having to face me the evil bitch dragon was too much for her to handle. She stood frozen. I got fed up and walked over to the manager and tapped him on the shoulder and said "My cashier clearly needs some assistance!" As the manager approached the girl burst into tears and ran off to tell her fellow Wal-Mart employee (YES, I could still see AND hear her) what an evil raving bitch dragon lady I was.

You are probably thinking that because I was at Wal-Mart I should not except decent service. I call BULL***T. If I give you my money I expect you to hire people with enough intelligence and problem solving skills to ring up my purchase without spiking my blood pressure. I suppose if I was a superhero my talent would be getting you a refund or rectifying poor service. Some of my friends (cough, Emily, cough) have asked me to call into a customer service department and pretend to be them in order to harness the power of my bitchy-ness.

Despite my temper and occasional tourettes fits I do have a soft side. I love my friends and family with my whole heart. My favorite thing to do is loud, gut wrenching, asthma inducing, pee your pants laughing. Whomever can induce this level of laughter is my friend for life. During a recent drunken board game with friends my husband proclaimed "You have a loving heart just a loud mouth" which pretty much sums it up.

Labels: Bless your heart, Introduction, Julia Sugarbaker

Hi.
I'm not the nice one.

I'm a passive aggressive vindictive bitch.

I like fried ham and potatoes for breakfast.

I'm a good Catholic girl who leaves God in her heart and out of your face.

I have a pathological hatred towards writing thank-you notes.

I'm a conservative Democrat, please just don't tell my Parents.

I asked for new boobs for my birthday.

I let my children listen to music with curse words.

And it makes me happy.
I like being happy, and I struggle to stay there.

I'm currently involved in a cross town moving extravaganza. It's making me meaner than usual. Stress is not my friend.

I did tell the buyers of my house I would leave the extra paint cans, but that was before they made my life a living HELL by being complete jack-wads about the move out date. I actually have to close on two houses and move all in one day. It's not impossible, but with two kids it's a teeny bit stressful. I totally understand that the childless, apartment dwelling assholes need a three day weekend to move their one bedroom place to my packed three bedroom.

I'm totally keeping the paint, y'all.

I don't need it. I just have a hate on for those fuckers. I'm keeping my take-out folder too. And I'm cancelling the maid I had scheduled. All I wanted was ONE extra day to get everything together and make a smooth transition. Did I mention they have two weeks after we close to move out of their place but I can't even get ONE day?

To think I was postponing potty training my youngest to keep our/their new carpets nice and fresh. That was quite the mistake right there. One I still have time to rectify.

But my Mamma taught me better manners than that.

Labels: Introduction, Moving Woes

It's funny that I ended up being the first one to introduce myself, because the other two tend to think of me as the "nice one" and get all surprised when I get bitchy.

It's not that I'm not a bitch, or that I'm not nice.

It's just that I'm southern, born and raised.Ever heard a southern girl say "bless her heart"? Or, worse (because, trust me, it is worse), "bless your heart"?

Sweetie, you just got ripped to shreds. And I bet that southern gal didn't so much as bat an eye.

"Bless her heart, that salesgirl doesn't know her Crane from her Carlson Craft." (I used to work in a stationery store - a mecca for southern ladies.) "Oh bless his heart, he just stepped right in that dog crap and didn't even notice." "Honey, bless your heart, that outfit is so colorful."

Of course, the trick to working at the stationery store, and the reason you never actually hear me say the dreaded phrase, is that everyone there knows it. So at some point, one learns to say it without saying it. Just that tone in your voice, the look in your eye; you know you're saying it in your head, the people who know you best know you're saying it, but the customer doesn't have a clue. "Here's your change, in exactly 23 quarters, 12 nickels, and 16 pennies, as you requested (bless your heart)." (In case you haven't figured it out, that one meant, "You complete lunatic.")

So, you know... you just go on thinking I'm the nice one. Bless your heart.

Labels: Bless your heart, Introduction

We would not be true southern fried bitches if we did not properly welcome you to our blog with all the southern hospitality the we can muster. So pour yourself a glass of tea and sit down with us!

However, don't let our hospitable nature fool you. Like most southerners we are passionate, colorful, eccentric, and not afraid to tell it like it is.
You may ask why southern fried bitches? Well, let's break this down.

Southern: because we are three lovely Texas ladies.

Fried: because much like us all fried things are delicious and highly sought after at fairs and carnivals. (Side note: If you are having an ugly day and feeling down about your looks head on down to any local fair or carnival. You will be the belle of the ball!)

Bitches: This one is a bit more complicated. Why would three such lovely ladies use such a derogatory term to define ourselves? Well, we here at southern fried bitches have decided to embrace the word bitch. Bitch is often defined as the following:

• a female dog: Who wouldn't want to be a majestic female canine? She feeds, protects, nurtures her puppies until they are strong healthy dogs that go out into the world and sniff out drugs, find mising children, and help blind people. And heaven knows, we (well, two of us) love our dogs. Woof, Woof!
• a lewd woman: What would life be with a little lewdness?
• a malicious, unpleasant, selfish person, esp. a woman: Find us a woman who has not had a moment in her life when she felt her own behavior was malicious, unpleasant, or selfish and we will find you a unicorn that poops diamonds. Recognizing that none of us are perfect is what creates strong bonds and allows us to be truthful and honest with each other. It's why we can have frank and open converstations with our best friends and still love each other. We will take that any day over the "let's take this outside" method of most men.
• anything difficult or unpleasant: Overcoming difficult and unpleasant obstacles is the female speciality. Childbirth being the ulitmate example.
• to complain; gripe: Everyone needs to gripe now and then! If we never gripe how would we discover all the struggles we share and devise ways to overcome them?
• anything memorable, esp. something exceptionally good: Why thank you! We resemble that remark.
  

So now you can own the word bitch! When people call you bitch you can think of it as a compliment and know that you have many, many sisters in arms. Three of whom (of the southern fried variety) are right here whenever you need us!

Labels: Introduction, Welcome