Back and Ready for Take Off

I'm used to getting fucked. Take for example the title of my blog. While I will unhappily allow a lot of shit in my life, I refuse to TAKE shit from any person. In the past few days, my shit tolerance has reached maximum capacity. There is no room for more. I may be having some health problems, but this little missy will be at work whipping ass and taking names at a later date if crossed. Here again, please make a mental note of it.

Season's Greetings

Nothing says Merry Christmas like George Michael (doesn't everybody think 'George Michael' when they think about Christmas?). Well, that and a Hap-Hap-Happy Holiday photo of my little brood. I assume now I've satisfied the wish list of every child, young and old, across our great nation.

This Little Piggy Went to Market

So last week, I was looking a bit more svelte than usual. I actually fit in my pre-pregnancy pants (with the help of the rubber band trick). Once again, my husband has done his best to thwart my efforts. How much damage could a pack (two packs...ok, THREE packs) of cookies do?

Four pounds worth, and that's my final answer.

Alrighty Then

FYI: Tampons cannot be used as parachutes. Menstrual pads are not swiffer substitutes. I tell you these things because apparently you need to know them.

Unfortunately, I watched a commercial today that carried the warning of "dramatization". I suppose some poor soul honestly thinks maxi-pads can take on the form of lounge chairs and umbrellas. Because that's what happened in the commercial. It's sad to think Stayfree might receive a call from a confused gentleman who wonders why an arsenal of 'overnight protection with wings' won't hold up in a good thunderstorm (God, let's at least hope it's a man who would make this assumption).

This puts the word 'sheeple' into a new light for me.

Thanks. I appreciate that.