I'm Baaaaacccck

Honestly, I've been back since Monday night. What's that, you were waiting for tales from the road? I know, feel free to tell me how badly I suck.

It was a whirl whind trip that left me completely exhausted. Too many long days, late nights, emotional kids and pizza. I fucking hate pizza. I think we ate pizza at 1:00am for three days in a row because it was all that was open late at night.

So let's get the important stuff out of the way first.

I shopped. Bought these little gems -

The other chaperones were trying to figure out how I could buy two pairs of shoes when I was only in the mall for 20 minutes. They're obviously amateurs. Josh, the ED pulled one of the boxes out of the bag and I thought we were going to have to call 911 when he saw the price on the box. His face turned pale and he looked at me, completely horrified and said, "Does my wife spend this much on her shoes?" He then noticed I had two boxes in the bag I was carrying and I think he may have stopped breathing for several seconds. Poor guy has no idea. Reason #362 to never get married again....never having to justify shoe expenditures to a male.

So onto the kids. Please note I'm not calling them little fuckers. I have so many stories to tell about how wonderful these guys were. They shocked the shit out of me, and that's not an easy thing to do. It helped that they were, for the most part, completely scared of me. That's not an assumption on my part, they actually told me so. Out of 38 kids on the trip we had to discipline two of them for drinking. We never had to wait for anyone, we did not have to go looking for stray kids, there were no arguments, tantrums or drama queens. As I type all of this I realize just how incredibly damn lucky we were. During the two days of competition some of the kids had to be up at 5:00am to make their 7am start time. We did not have to wake up ANY of the kids. They were up, ready and on their way exactly when they needed to be.

The whole trip renewed my faith in teens. After the hellish time I've had with my own, it was heartening to know that kids do indeed have the ability to passionately care about something besides video games and ipods.

I'll be back with a few stories. Just wanted to let everyone know I'm alive and kicking - in really hot shoes.

One last thing - Daffy. Ducky girl we're with you in spirit. Someday you'll be able to remember your sister with a smile rather than tears. It will take a long time, but it will happen. The memories you have will keep her alive forever. It's little consolation, I know. Know that you're loved, and thought of often.

Life Support

Got this in my email this morning. It sums it all up nicely. T minus two days until project drug me and throw me from a moving bus chaperone!

MY LIVING WILL

Last night, my kids and I were sitting in the living room and I said to them, 'I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.'


They got up, unplugged the Computer, and threw out my wine.

They are SO on my shit list ...

I really do love that woman!

Dual Mom in The Crib

Hey look at me, no not there, here. Over here. I have a post up over at the beautiful Kelly's place at Speaking from the Crib.

I actually wrote this one awhile back.The fact she's posting it today is a small blessing in disguise. Yours truly has gone beyond tired and has made friends with unicorns that are now mysteriously appearing in my home. Yes Libby, it is kind of fun.

It's really not that bad, my body is adapting to not sleeping for 8 hours a night. Funny how that happens. Though I noticed a new wrinkle this morning and seriously contemplated adding several ounces of Bailey's to my morning coffee to take the edge off that horror!

Anyway, it's a new story, about the time my sister inadvertenly almost killed me when I was three. Don't worry, I got her back when we were teenagers and I told her boyfriend she only changed her underwear once a week. It was a total lie, but she DID almost kill me people!

Say it with me....thank fuck it's Friday!

Ed and Daffy...Daffy and Ed

So there's this dude Ed.

And there's this dudette Daffy.

They're both certifiably insane. I know insane when I see it.

I should link their names to their blogs, but at this point I've been mainlining coffee and R.ed B.u.l.l. for the last two days in an effort to stay awake and really the thought of taking the time and effort to do the linky thing is tantamount to climbing a fucking mountain with a goat on my back. I have no idea why I would have a goat on my back.

Did you know spell check in blogger doesn't recognize fuck as a misspelled word? How cool is that?

It would appear that Ed has some sort of shit show in which he proclaims the world's funniest bloggers and you get a crown, sphincter or spectre or some sort of sticky thing,  and world domination. I truly believe I could rock the hell out of dominating the world so I want to win. I could probably also rock the hell out of a sphincter.

Daffy..... What can I say about Daffy? If I were gay, I would so have sick, stalkerish, obsessive, want to hump your leg love for Daffy. Ok, I'm not gay and I still want to hump her leg. She's the one who nominated me for world dominance.

And even though I'm so fucking tired I tried to make my car go for five minutes this morning before I realized I was in neutral (all the while cursing like a truck stop whore because goddammit the car is only a year old)here I am posting. According to Ed's rules for world domination, I have to be funny all the time. Fucking stupid rule. I mean c'mon....NO ONE is funny all the time. My deep and thoughtful shit can be please stab me in the eye with a dull butter knife and force arsenic down my throat boring interesting too.

Ed - that's just a stupid rule. I say that fully recognizing I probably shouldn't call you stupid, and I'm not really, it's the rule I think is stupid.  You know, considering you hold my chance of world domination in the palm of your hand and all. Ok yes I'm calling you stupid. It's the caffeine, or the goat.

I haven't posted yet about happy hour that turned into happy 6 hours last Friday. Funny little things happened such as one of my perfectly respectable buds pulling down her pants in the middle of a bar to show people her tan lines. She had really great underwear on though so it was ok.

I had a fabulous time (apparently) chatting up a young, blond haired, blue eyed boy who sat down next to me at the bar.  I made him laugh until he spit beer through his nose and then I told him that he's just a baby, that I would "chew him up and spit him out" and that he's in "way over his head" in even contemplating what he's contemplating. I have no recollection of what he was contemplating nor do I have any recollection of saying ANY of this - three friends swear those exact words came out of my mouth. There was also someone recording it on an iphone. I've been keeping a close eye on You Tube.

I swear I'm a danger to myself and should not be left unsupervised. I'm thinking of starting my very own version of AA.

What was the point of this post? Oh yeah...world domination.

Were we talking about goats?

I actually used to have a goat. I grew up on a farm. The goat used to slide down the slide with me. There's a picture somewhere.

Ok, I'm just sorry for this post. I have sleep scheduled for Friday, so it will be better after that.

And just an update - have not heard from son, have not spoken to the boyfriend and I've worked 18 hour days every day so far this week. My front lawn could hide terrorist activity the grass is so fucking long. Any day now I expect the neighbours to riot and burn me at the stake.

Your comments and emails made me cry (fuckers). When I'm rich there will be new cars and designer shoes for all of you.

Speed Bumps on The Road of Life

So let’s see.


Where have I been, what has been going on? Not that anyone really gives a shit, but let me break it down for you.

I got that job. The one that Bully the St. Bernard unintentionally tried to sabotage. I worked 68 hours last week. Tired would be a gross understatement. You know you’re tired when you pour milk into the coffee filter rather than coffee grinds. Putting dirty clothes in the dryer rather than the washer? Yeah -totally brilliant move.

I kicked my 18 year old out of my house yesterday. Happy Mother’s Day, right? He pushed me after I wacked him with the remote control (I had it in my hand while breaking up a fight between him and his brother). It was either call his father to come and get him or break the wooden cutting board over his head, which was the next thing I was going to reach for. I went with the former though the latter was incredibly tempting.

My baby pushed me. The red hot, seething anger has subsided and now my heart is broken…in a million tiny little pieces. My heart is broken.

People keep asking, "Ohh did you have a great Mother's Day?" Oh yeah...fanfuckingtabulous. Sit down, let me tell you about the knock down, drag out fight my 18 year old and I had. It's really excellent entertainment. I am tempted to stab myself in the eye so that people will have something else to ask me about besides Mother's Day. "Oh, why is that sharp implement protruding from your eyeball?"

My relationship with the boyfriend is in the toilet. I think I need to admit to myself that no amount of CPR is going to revive it. Someone said to me last week, “DM (though they used my real name because people in real life use my real name, weird I know). Anyway, they said, “DM, you’re not bad at relationships, you’re bad at ending bad relationships.” Yeah, I really suck at it. So much so that I’ve let this one go for approximately 3 years past its “best before” date. No, no issues there at all.

Dual Mom’s pity party anyone? Suck it up right? I will, soon….I will. The last time I felt like this I ended up leaving my marriage and totally uprooting my life. I keep telling myself there are starving children, people with REAL problems in the world and that this too shall pass.

The thing is – to me - this is all drama. I fucking hate drama. I avoid it at all costs. My instinct is to shove my head up my arse until it all goes away. Yeah, that instinct serves no purpose so I battle it with everything that I have. The battle makes me weary sometimes. I need a nap.

On a positive note I got a really great hairdo Saturday. I am now a red head. It’s what I do – when my life is out of control I change my hair colour. Nora and I also went to see Iron Man 2 yesterday. My secret boyfriend is aging well let me tell you. The movie itself sucked but the eye candy more than made up for it. RDJ in beautiful suits and fast cars - really, does it get any better? Only if he were naked in my bed. Oops did I say that out loud?

So yeah, about those people with real problems.......








I’m just being a sook arse. Go visit Michelle. She needs some words of encouragement.

What Turns You Off?

You thought I was going to talk about sex, didn't you?

Nope, I'm talking about blogging. I think most bloggers, as in real life, are drawn to various characteristics in a blog. By the same token we're also turned off by certain characteristics.

I was squandering well paid time at work this week taking a much needed break at work and reading some forums at Blog Frog. SITS has a forum and one of the questions on the forum was what would cause you to not read a blog or stop reading a blog you had been reading. There were 96 responses to the question.

In my effort to be dubbed biggest idiot in the world woman of the year - I read the responses with a fair bit of interest.

It appears the most common reason was music on a blog. Yeah me, I don't have music.

Another was long posts. OK, I'm guilty of this one once in awhile, but I try to keep it within a three minute read.

Run on sentences was another reason bloggers will stop reading. Again, I know my grasp of grammar is not perfect but I usually know how to use a comma and a period.

Lots of bling, badges and gadets seemed to be another pet peeve. I'm too lazy to put this stuff on my blog so I'm ok on this one.

A huge no no with ALOT of people- offensive subject matter and foul language.

Fuck. Actually double fuck because I'm guilty of both.

This got me to thinking about why I blog, what I get out of it, what I hope to impart to those that read my mindless blatherings. And it's this - the world is a fucked up, seriously sad place, if you let it be. Just reading the news on a regular basis makes me want to stab most of society.

I have nothing life altering to say most days. I'm not an expert on any topic. I want to make others chuckle just a little bit. If I accomplish that by relaying the fuckedupedness that is my mind and life, or by giving my spin on a subject matter while turning the air blue around me with profanity, then so be it. It's how I roll.


Having said that, I love new readers. I love seeing a new commentor pop up in my email. I realize I'm probably shutting myself off from alot of bloggers with my cussing. Do I want to do that? No, not really. So I've decided to stop using profanity in my blog posts.


Hehe. Who the fuck am I kidding? Asking me to stop cursing would be like asking a man to remember to pick up his socks. It's just not going to goddamn well happen no matter how hard you scream, rant, rave and threaten to throw said socks in the garbage.

So tell me, is your blog the real you?

How to Entertain 45 Teenagers?

So in two weeks I'm chaperoning a group of 45 teenagers (high school) for a 6 day trip. I'll give you a moment to digest that statement.

Just shoot me now. I was obviously drunk when I agreed to help. Who in their right mind leaves me in charge?

Ensuring the kids have a positive educational experience? Hell I'll consider the trip a success if I'm not required to bail anyone out of jail and no one comes home pregnant. It will be nothing short of a miracle if we all make it back alive. 

Seriously, I'm concerned. How the fuck do you keep 45 teenagers in line? I have enough trouble keeping two in line. Apparently I've been dubbed the "muscle" by the other chaperones. My reputation as a total hard ass bitch has obviously gotten around. Who told?

The kids comprise a team representing our province in a national competition. There are three days of competition which leaves us 2 days to entertain the little buggers and keep them out of trouble. After researching local attractions these are the things I've suggested to the other chaperones as items to entertain the hormone driven back talking little fuckers little darlings.

• There's a Mennonite community about 15 minutes from where we're staying. A riveting day of soap making and buggy rides would be sure to please the teens, don't you think? Seriously, picture Dual Mom in a Mennonite community with 45 rowdy teenagers. The fucks would be flying everywhere. Who wants to put bets on ME being the first one that's asked to leave?
• A butterfly museum. I know, exciting right? Complete with tropical gardens where the teens can frolick in the splendor of nature. They'd be sure to love that.
• A glass and clay museum (apparently this part of the country is big on obscure museums). C'mon...who doesn't love the awesomeness of glass and clay?

Failing the success of these stupdendous outings I'm considering having a large supply of sleeping pills on hand and spiking their cokes each evening at dinner. What? It won't hurt them.

I'm fucking doomed, aren't I?

In all seriousness, beside the idea of chasing drunk teenagers around a strange city and breaking up orgies, I'm really looking forward to the trip.
The silver lining - - I can be assured of some good stories to blog. You can bet your sweet ass the laptop will be travelling with me. Tales from the road. I know, you're excited.

Post script: If the parent of one of the aforementioned teens happens to stumble upon this blog - please be rest assured I am a completely responsible adult and I will ensure your child has protection for above mentioned orgie. No really, there will be no orgies. I don't believe in sex. Trust me. Completely trustrworthy, I am, seriously. I also promise not to drug your child - pinkie swear. Unless they deserve to be drugged. Then all bets are off. Also, your child is not the "little fucker" I refer to, it's someone elses kid. I would never call your child a little fucker, your child is an angel.