Go Random. Go To The Un Mom. Right Now. Well, Read This First. Then click this. She's hawt.

I know he was in his 80′s but it’s still sad to see that Leslie Nielson died.  What’s even weirder is that I was just thinking about him.  I have a strange thing where some random person will pop in my head and then they’ll either have some major life change happen, I’ll hear from them (if it’s been years) or they die.  Usually happens within a week of them popping in my head and I never know what it’s going to be but when they’re really old and I realize I’m thinking about them I usually say “Oh, shit.”

Okay so I’ve been singing the Golden Girls theme song and I take serious issue with it.  I’ve always used it as a way to tell people I love them when I’m blogging or on Facebook but I was in the shower (slow, soapy lather for all the pervs out there – I found plenty yesterday) and I realized she said “And if you threw a party and invited everyone you knew, you would see that every gift would be from me and the card attached would say ‘Thank you for being a friend”

Dude.  What the fucking fuck?  So no one else brought me a gift?  It’s either that or Miss McPsycho changed all the tags.  I’d prefer the second one because I’d totally do something like that. (It gets better. Click to continue reading…)

Okay so my baby making days are over since I lack the reproductive organs necessary but it seems that every time Macy’s contacts me to do a review and/or giveaway for their First Impressions gift sets I have a friend or relative who is about to or just had a baby.

This time around it was my next door neighbor and I scored BIG TIME when I showed up at the baby shower with this awesome trio.  She’s having a boy and instead of getting her a newborn gift set, I opted for a 3-6 month set because I know she has tons of new baby apparel and I just thought this was as cute as can be.

I was right. (It gets better. Click to continue reading…)

Before I begin bitching I’d like to with TRY a very happy birthday even though it’s over.  You’re truly the best friend a person could ask for.  Plus you help me host my radio show and we put a shitload of work into it so everyone reading needs to get their asses in gear, head on over to http://www.blogtalkradio.com/mompsective and fucking REGISTER.  I know it’s not hard to do.  You just go do it now and hop on over to that same address at 9:30pm EST every Monday (that would be today) and click to listen to that days show (today) and get in the chat room.  We have fun.  We just recorded a horrific show intro as well as segment intros and we burst into song at half-time and play Fact or Bullshit which people love but you can’t officially play unless you’re IN THE CHAT ROOM.  I need to get a solid crowd in there because I’m going to start having it become a real game that I’ll keep score of and we’re going to start it at the beginning of the month and take it down week to week and pin each weeks winners against each other the following week and someone will win a proze at the end of the month.  Kind of hard to do when we have 200 listeners and 4 people in the chat room.

I am a raging bitch today.  Raging.  I was a miserable bitch yesterday.  Why?  Two reasons.

First of all, I got all super dressed up Friday (pics will show up eventually and I’ll let you know when I put them on Facebook) and I was completely let down when all my favorite people couldn’t make it because they had to hang out with “family” because it was a “holiday”. BOO.  It was my best friends birthday and I was “Designated Driver” which equals to “easily annoyed” and I feel like over-using “quotations” even though the don’t really “apply here”.

What is DD?  It’s the one sober person in the bar who finds the drunk people annoying.  Especially the drunk best friend who threw up in a bathroom I’m afraid to even look in, let alone pee in and then promptly decided to splay himself on the dance floor while my lovely Holly (I can’t believe you read me, am I allowed to say your name?) tore down.  God bless you woman because I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m just lucky I didn’t have to carry that fucker to his car.  I managed to get him in his house, shove him in the general direction of his bed and say “Asta la pasta homie” and get the fuck on out of there.

I love you dude, I was just pissy.  We both knew I’d get annoyed.  I’m over it.

So I roll on into Saturday where I’m just a general moody bitch.  I didn’t feel like doing anything so I didn’t.  I like Saturdays.  I love Fridays so much it makes Saturday a necessity.  I never go out on Saturday  nights but it was TRY-bash part deux so I got all hot and went to the pee bar (we talked about it on our show once – some random dude whipped it out at last call for alcohol and pissed next to a table in the middle of the bar) and I was super impressed with how awesome I sounded.  My voice is starting to revert to pre-illness normal and that means it’s been over a year and a half and I was THRILLED to have both men and women come and tell me I rocked.

Suddenly at about 1:30 some 24 year old kid comes to chat and without me even noticing we managed to pound two shots of Goldschlager and three Miller Lites in 30 minutes.  He wasn’t hitting on me – his girlfriend was there.  I actually have no idea why he came up but I was dead sober and thought “YAY BEER!” so I decided to take the dare and race to see who could clear the beer first.  I’m 33 and I’m Polish and Irish.  Don’t fuck with me.  The only time I lose is when I’m drinking an Irish TRY-Bomb.  That fucker beats me by two seconds but if there’s a third drinking we both clear whoever it may be by about 30 seconds.  He’s my TRY-Bomb Yoda.

Okay so now I’M hammered.  Friends, if you were there and I was a douche I’m super sorry.  It was thankfully all done at last call so I didn’t have to spend the entire evening asleep on a bench at a table but I don’t remember paying my tab (I’m sure someone did it for me or found my card.  Oh fuck.  I’m missing my card.  That explains a lot.  I need to make a phone call).  I don’t remember TRY having to haul my drunk ass over his shoulder and toss me in the back seat of his car and I don’t remember getting dumped off in my bed before he left.  All I can say is that we’re officially even.

I don’t like to drink heavily.  Why?  Because I’m bipolar, menopausal from my lack of reproductive organs and I have an anxiety disorder.  What does that mean?  It means the entire next day after a night of blackout drinking I sit alone in my room crying for no reason.  For hours and hours I sat in bed just crying.  No Facebook or Twitter updates (people noticed)  -no witty texts.  I had all the time in the world to write and I had no mojo to do it.

I get in touch with my other bestie who I’ll call Vinnie (because that’s his name) and we have a decent conversation (which is a lot of ask for, trust me) and I tell him I’ll call him the following day (today) at around 9:30.  What does he do?  Calls me at 1:00 this morning.

ONE O FUCKING CLOCK VINNIE.  ONE O FUCKING CLOCK.

I didn’t answer the phone but it woke me up.  I looked at it, saw it was him, bitched and hit “ignore” (he won’t read this but I plan on bitching him out at 9:30 and I hope on all that is holy that I wake him up in the process).

Here’s the problem.  I am an insomniac.  You might call yourself one but I am one.  I don’t sleep without hardcore shit.  I remember years back when Ambien was new.  I needed five to fall asleep.  No danger zone there, I just have no concept of how to fall asleep and a super high tolerance for meds given to assist me in doing so.  I have to rotate my pills monthly because they stop working.  Everyone gives advice.  Thank you all for your efforts but I am an insomniac.  First off, I have a song constantly playing in my head.  Often times I have more than one and they overlap each other.  Right now it’s Blind Melon’s “No Rain” because I sang it Saturday night.

Even if I manage to finish the song I can’t turn the iPod in my head off.  Something else will switch on.  If I hate it I might call someone who I know will answer and say “Next song” and will usually get an idea.  Otherwise I look at my “I want to try to sing this at karaoke next week” list and get one of those locked in.

This is how bedtime works for me -  I pick a time I’d like to fall asleep, ensure the pills I take will wear off by the time I need to wake up the following morning because I’m a good mommy and I always want to be awake and alert for my kids (even though they’re at school until 3pm every day) and I take enough sleep-aid to kill a yak.  I wait about 45 minutes and I count to 100 and then I fall asleep.  Usually.

Last night I was exhausted and I passed out at about 9 but it was one of those sleeps where I was dreaming about trying to fall asleep so I didn’t feel as though I was and then fucking Vinnie (I love you man but seriously) calls me at one o’ fucking clock in the morning. Once you wake an insomniac there is no going back to legit sleep.  Yes, I was tired and yes I closed my eyes again after I hit ignore but when I put my head back on the pillow I got waves of dreams.  Fucked up dreams I can’t even remember clearly.  I’d dream then wake and then get really pissed and wish I had a McDonald’s coke because they’re tasty.  Caffeine would not be helpful but I yearn for it all the same. I know there was a dinosaur in one but whatever, I had a dream I was on the Death Star the other night and I saw two Vaders and one was Dr. Dre.

So now I’m pissed.  I’ve been up since four, I have my show at 9:30 tonight and that means I won’t be able to get to sleep until 11:00 at best.  It’s 5:30AM right now and the kids get up at 7:00 and they have to head for school and I typically work but I’m hoping a few Xanex and sheer exhaustion might whip me over into nappy land since I’ve gotten most of my work done but I don’t really know how to nap.  I can’t drug because I won’t have the time I need and since I have the inability to fall a fucking sleep I’ll just lay in bed pissed off wishing I knew how the hell you all did this.

Wow.  This is long and useless.  Whatever.  I don’t have to be funny all the time.  This is my diary and I write what I want.  You’re just stuck reading it.

Fuck it.  At least I look hot in that picture.  Did you see my titties?  Wow.  Sorry dad I know that makes your eyes bleed but I look hot, TRY’s probably the most solid friend I have (along with Sarah and Elaina and Vinnie who is solid but rarely lucid) and we take fantastic pictures together.  I love being in pictures.  I wish my BB had a flash.  I might upgrade.

Of course now that it’s 5:30 I’m getting tired.  Could have something to do with the two Xanex I popped an hour ago when I was begging for some kind of sleep.  Now that I wrote this all I have to do is bang out a review/giveaway (I already have one going and it’s worldwide and AWESOME) then maybe I can lounge and sleep.  I have a HUGE week ahead of me because there is a birthday bash of epic proportions headed my way and because of it I will need all the rest I can.  I will bail if I think I’ll be too tired to be fun for the kidlits so I need to find the proper time to balance both child and happy fun time and sleep.

For those of you saying “How the hell does she do it?”  I don’t go out until after they’re in bed, they have a father who loves to wake up at 6:30 in the morning as long as he naps when I roll out at noon and I never drink like I did Satruday night.  Never.  Except for last Saturday night and that served as a reminder as to why I DON’T drink like that.

This is long and useless. Peace out homie.