…for using the word “fuckmuppet”. It has now become one of my favorite word of all time; indeed, replacing “fuckpuddle” as a favored swear-word. (esp. as used in the following phrase Chicken-fried fuckmuppet with a side of potatoes and gravy!
Thankyouthankyou.
As we can see, I am back online again. I’ll pause here for the rampant cheering and thrown flowers.
(pause)
And now, the larch.
I’m sitting here working on MY goddamn computer. Its a strange and wonderful thing. I haven’t had my very own computer for over a year. I am waist-deep in happiness, I am.
The Update du jour….
Of course, we are still Seriously in debt. I had a telemarketer call – she made mention of our credit being “bruised”. Evidently her firm sells good credit, for a small fee, of course, or some happy horse-plop like that. I informed her (in no uncertain terms) that a.) our credit wasn’t bruised, its in the fucking ICU and b.) did we sound stupid? Then I hung up.
Things should be getting better. I hope. I pray. Because I’ve only one last school payment to make. Huzzah and can we hear from the choir please?
Hallelujah!
And, I am now in my official Internship-mode. This means that I get to work like a dog a few days a week and not get paid for it. Certainly, its not humping crates or ironing in a sweat shop for free. But it ain’t easy either. I believe I’ve mentioned before, massage is *hard*, sweaty work. As I do two massages a night, its like doing aerobics for two hours at a swatch. Don’t get me wrong. I love massage. I would just love to get paid for what I do. Ah, well – Gots to pay them dues.
The ‘kins is going to be starting school (Real, big-time, big-kid school) in August. That’s in 2 months. She will be FIVE at the end of July. And she has informed me that what she wants MOSTEST of all is a Barbie birthday party – complete with ice cream cake and a good deal of Pepto colored streamers. And Mommy and Daddy’s present needs to be: a new bedroom decor featuring..you guessed it. Barbie.
*Faint, thud*
Ok. I can deal with the whole school thing. I can deal with my precious lil baby being five and having opinions that differ from my own. Its expected. Its looked forward to in some ways. But BARBIE????
I blame her Grammy and her Nonni. (No, I didn’t come up with those names for the grandmothers. Them were there THEIR idears, not mine.) They’ve been foisting pink and flutters on her since she was born. And gods help me – I think its catching. I actually like…pink.
*faint, thud*
But, not Barbie? Ok? Ok Baby-grrl? Please oh please, not the Flaxen Haired Wench of Doom? Please?
No? Barbie? It has to be Barbie. *sigh* Ok sweetheart. Barbie it is.
….*mutters* Fuckmuppets.
The Process 
Good to see you back! 😀
Do me a favour and e-mail me y’all’s current phone number, please? Might want to also remind me of what the complex is called, in case I have the street number wrong.
I’m still just around the corner, and I’m thinking of dropping by sometime if y’all could still stand my disempowered ass. Have y’all switched apartments since you moved into that complex?
{{{Bonnie}}}
Howdy Elf-boy! Sure, I’ll email ’em now.
I got ’em! Thanks. 😀
We have had success substituting Get Real Girls for Barbie. Pretty dolls who come with surfboards, karate clothes, hiking and camping action gear, etc. Also realistically proportioned and wear sports bras. Check them out, v. cool.
checking ’em out..thanks for the tip.
((((Rain))))
Barbie MUST DIE!!
My husband is ten years older than his little sister. What this boiled down to was that he was 16 when she was six and DEEP into the Barbie phenomenon. I’m told by reliable witnesses that Andy (lil sis) would invade sleeping teenager boy’s room, whap him about the head and shoulders with her Barbie all the while shrilly shouting for him to “come play! Come play!”.
This apparently ended one fine day. Andy was off at a little friend’s house. John had just woken up at the crack of noon and was wandering towards the kitchen in search of sustenance. Along the way, he trod upon the Doll o’ Doom. And something in his wee teenage boy brain snapped.
He grabbed the doll, some supplies and headed out. In the front yard, he pounded a stake into the ground. Tied Barbie to said stake. Stacked some kindling around her lil pointy toes. Added a splash of lighter fluid. One match later and Matel was melting off that damn doll’s ass.
I kind of like Barbie. I had a lot of Barbies as a child. I usually ended up cutting their hair into mohawks and other equally interesting hairstyles.
I had them too. Mine were always dressed as Rennaissance maidens; generally they were off to rescue Ken who had usually found some way to screw up and wind up in the bad guy’s lair. Often this meant that I had taped Ken to a handy bedroom wall with duct tape.
Ah…I remember the good ol’ days: “Barbie?!? Yuuuuuuccck!!!”
Darn grandmothers.
Re: As Mr. Lightyear so succinctly said…
Gone! All gone now; whoohoo, bye-bye.
YEARS of training, *wasted*!
Fuckmuppets!!!
I miss you. I miss the Girlie. If it’s an indoor party, consider me there, and I will try really really hard not to pass down any of my Barbie things to her, even though my bathroom is now pink Hello Kitty instead of pink Barbie.
*sendin lotsa love*
It’s going to be at my folk’s house in Dallas. In theory, it’ll also be a pool party. I’m betting that the ice cream cake is served out of doors.
We might do a quiet thing here in town for the other set of grandparents and our friends here. That I will send e-vites for.
Next year, when she is turning six and is in school….then it will be time for the horde of screaming little girls. I am SO looking forward to that And, if you think that I shan’t be hitting you and everyone else I know up for help, you are SO mistaken. 🙂
That would be spiffy. Little Miss and I are still evilly plotting cards, pizza and forboten things, as well.
We went shopping for tennis shoes one time when James was 4, & he really wanted the pink barbie ones.
I had a serious mental battle for a short while… I don’t want to squelch the kid with the whole “those are girls shoes, boys don’t wear pink” that Granny started, but at the same time I couldn’t face having Barbie in the house.
To my relief, a) the ones he had picked up didn’t fit & b) he was readily satisfied with the next pair that did fit with out insisting we look for barbie shoes in his size.
*whew*
*giggle*
But he woulda looked so cute with them! 😉
Seriously tho – I don’t mind all the other “cutesy” things that she likes. Hamtaro, Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, even Care Bears (in small measured doses). Something about Barbie makes me clench though. I’m getting used to it. I don’t like it.