Stoned

Not the kind that people are trying to legalize.  Sorry.

My sister Alicia was recently in the hospital for kidney stones.  She had a pretty sizable one gumming up the works so the doctor had to go in and shoot the little fucker up in a urology drive-by, then place a stent.  She has the strings for the stent taped to her legs, which resulted in the following text conversation:

Me:  Little girls and I might come out so they can leave more shit at ur house

Alicia: OK sounds good lol. I can't put on real pants because there are these strings and they pull so I will be stuck in the house tomorrow.  Shorts are the only things that do not pull them in.

Me:  Sweet.  Is that your pull string like Woody?  What do you say?

A: Ha ha ha you pull them and you will hear an adult version of Woody.  It would probably start with a little prayer like Jesus Christ and then Mother fucker would soon follow.

Me:  So a religious Woody?  Great.  My kids need a little Satan beaten out of them and what better way to do that than a demented Woody.  Religion AND turning them away from the Disney brainwashing machine?  WINNING.

A: Kind of, I would be like the toys you see on the news that people are all up in arms because it sounds like it's saying fuck but I would really be saying fuck.


As you can see, crazy runs in the family.  So what better way to celebrate kidney stones than with baked goods?  Of course I went there.  She baked me a fucking cake.  Why wouldn't I make cake ball kidney stones?

Enlarged to show details, and sparkly, of course.  Again, why is there not a business to make these?  There appears to be a pretty solid, wide-open market for this kind of thing...

So to make these cake balls, I was Googling pictures of kidney stones because I had no fucking clue what they looked like.  Charlie was looking over my shoulder and saw them, so I explained what little I knew about them and that Alicia had had surgery because she was having problems peeing (simplest explanation I could come up with).  Charlie got very serious then and leaned over and told me, "I have to whisper this so Daddy can't hear."

Me: Um, OK.  

C, leaning in to whisper: You know how when you get older and sometimes you bleed when you are going potty?  Maybe that is what was happening.  Maybe she doesn't need surgery and you just need to tell her about that.

Me: You mean her period?  This was definitely not her period, Charlie.  And I'm pretty sure Daddy knows about periods.  It's OK for him to hear about them.

Bless her little heart.  As much as that child makes me want to tear my hair out, she has a heart of gold.  She and her sister even "let" Aunt Alicia win at Connect Four, because she just had surgery and all.  Baked goods to celebrate surgical procedures aside, I must be doing something right here.

Random VIII

I'm a little worried about what happens when I start to get a lot of Random posts and it goes beyond my comprehension of Roman Numerals. Or maybe I will go ahead and just start using actual numerals, not of the Roman persuasion.  I can do that, bitchez...ya know why?  It's my fucking blog.  Better watch out, it's gonna get all crazy up in here.

I'm talking about the blog titles, not my head.  Ahem.


Alexis is starting to move into the fun preteen years, which means that my alcohol and/or Xanax consumption will increase proportionally as well.  So far the extent of her rebellion has been NOT having me check her math homework for errors and dawdling before bed, but I am totally bracing myself for a full out rebellion in a few years.  I anticipate her advocating for a Trump/Palin presidency here soon, because really that would be the best way to rebel against me.  That and starting to mix her food on her plate.  I don't care what people say, if that shit was meant to go together it would be cooked together or be a food thing, like mashed potatoes and gravy.  Mashed potatoes and corn is not a food thing, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.  Might as well make a bread sandwich for all the carbs and starches you are getting there.  It's just gluttonous.  And glutinous.  Well, the bread sandwich that is.  Potatoes and corn are gluten free I believe.  But don't fucking quote me on that shit.  I'm not a doctor.  Possibly need one for my head, but not because I am delusional.  There's many other reasons.


I wonder if I could possibly time it so that I will never have two females getting their periods at the same time again?  Two females who live here full time, that is.  If the two little girls get it at the same time, my fictional prescription for benzodiazapines might become a reality.  I'm not getting mine anymore, as we all celebrated with cake last year.  If I can get Charlie to hold off until she's like 14, Alexis will be getting ready to graduate and go off to college...so how could I make this happen?  I took my magic wand to work so I could use it there, but it might be worth me bringing back home so I can arrange this.

About that doctor...


Elizabeth cleaned the hamster's cages out a few days ago.  Bean was all nice and sweet when I held her while she was doing this, even if she did try to burrow into my boobs.  Must be talking to the Baby Daddy 2.0 cause he tends to try to do that too.  Reggie, however, was her psychotic self and further traumatized me by squealing loudly while staring me directly in the eye from her hamster ball.  I'm glad I am not fluent in hamster because I'm pretty sure she was detailing my future dismemberment.  I never thought I would be afraid of something that is less than three inches long, but her tiny little hamster squeaks are similar to the howls of demons from hell.  And her cold, beady eyes are dead inside.  I had nightmares that night.  No joke.


I'm going to relive a bit of my childhood after work with the little girls and dust off the most ridiculous of toys, the EZ Bake oven.  The name is really fucking misleading...who the fuck thought it would be easy to bake with a goddamned lightbulb?  Like, I wonder how many fuckheads out there tried to make like actual food in them, and not just the nasty bags of chemicals they give you that are supposed to pass for desserts (for the record, I bought a bag of sugar cookie mix from the store vs the ones strictly for the oven.  If we are going to eat crap, by God it is going to be somewhat good tasting crap.)  Do people try to make meatloaves in this?  How about Shepherd's Pie?  And also, I can't believe that Shepherd's Pie is a food thing.  I certainly won't eat that.  Good thing we won freedom from the British all those years back if this is what they come up with for their food things.