Monday, April 18, 2011

What's mountain cake you ask?

Sydnerella and I baked a cake last night …

Sadly, this is not what our cake looks like. Before I get into the story, let me give you a little idea of how domestically challenged I am. I have lived in my house for 21 months and have never cleaned the toilets. Ever. I hire cleaners. Not because I’m rich, not because I’m spoiled. It’s because I'm a domestic retard. My cleaners are not to be mistaken with maids. I don’t have someone walking around my 1200 square foot house with a feather duster 24/7. Although that would be really fucking cool.

A husband & wife team comes in for 90 minutes as needed to scrub the bathrooms, counters, floors, all the shit that I don’t do. I pay $75 if you’re curious, so I’m not taking food out of my kids mouth to afford this luxury, it’s reasonable and to me, it’s worth it. Judge all you want, ya know you’re jealous ….
I may have to find new cleaners though since the husband is in treatment for a gambling addiction and the wife is ginormous and has wicked b.o. when she sweats …. AND because she literally dropped a deuce in my bathroom after she cleaned it while I waited at the door for her to leave!

In short, I know what may be contributing to why I’m not married. In the bedroom, I’d be a rockin wife. I wouldn’t make my husband wait or beg, no matter how much he pissed me off. On the contrary, I’d end up wearing him down … But in the kitchen … Well, let’s just say he’d go hungry … sexually satisfied, but hungry.

Back to the cake … the cake that not only confirmed potentially why I am single, but confirmed that I’m a useless mother too. Here’s how the baking of our cake went down …

I have one cake pan. I actually bought the damn thing myself a few years back when I made T-Bone some brownies. Brownies that ended up going bad in his work truck (I’ll never bake for a man again). My cake tin is just a small pan, obviously not meant for cake because on the back of the cake mix box, no where did it say how long to keep the cake in the over for a tin my size. I also lined the pan with tin foil so I could easily lift the cake out and not have to clean the pan when I'm done. Seriously.

Cake # 1 came out of the oven … Ummm ....?

We're making a two-layer cake and I figure at this point, that there's still hope. Which there was ...

That’s better. I don’t know what the hell caused the first to morph into a mountain of cake. Sydnerella is standing beside me, icing and butter knife in hand in attempt to make the monstrosity look like a cake, shame mixed with horror is in her eyes as we end up with this ....

My final thoughts: Well, I spent some quality time with my kid, who I mortify more and more each day. And the cake tastes good, in the end, it all comes out looking the same anyway.

Friday, April 15, 2011

I am a kitty cat

When I was 3 years old, I decided I was a cat. My mom says that I crawled around and meowed. All the time. I don't remember, but I've always been a cat person. I used to drape my 20 pound cat around my neck and call him my mink collar, of course his name was Minky. Or Minkinkio, yes, I even had a song ... He used to wear infant clothes and get around in a little stroller. I was 20 when he died and I cried for three days. Now, I have Rusty, who I almost love as my own kid. If Rusty had never pissed down my vents, they'd be tied.

As much as I love cats, Rusty is my only cat-child. And I've never thought of incorporating my kitty-love into my sex life as I recently watched on CSI (you are a sick fucker if you think I meant people who screw cats ... ) And I've also never had the desire to become this ....

However, today, it was confirmed that I am, in fact, a kitty cat. My manager told me so. I have no idea what she's talking about, but I'm hoping this isn't what she means ...

From: (stacy's manager) 
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 10:45 AM
To: Stacy (kitty-cat)
Subject: RE: work crap
Not to worry… are a “kitty cat” and I am sure they didn’t take any offense!!! 

From: Stacy (kitty-cat)
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 10:43 AM
To: (stacy's manager)
Subject: RE: work crap

Yes, this information came to me AFTER a very stern e-mail I sent to them earlier in 2011 haha, I will definitely leave them alone for now


I have no idea why this kept coming up in my searches for kitty cats, some of you might like it

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

shut up stupid face

T-Bone said we're back together. Not after he came grovelling at my feet begging for forgiveness, just after he simply decided that we were. I admit, it was hard to let go of him when all sorts of bad was happening and I felt like I needed him, but I was not expecting him to call me his girlfriend recently. Sure I was naked in his bed at the time, but that doesn't mean relationship. I thought this had shrunk into a booty call / friend type thing (if there's such a thing), not grown back into a relationship. I thought maybe it was my nakedness that made him call me his girlfriend, but then called me Auntie Stacy to his little niece in front of his family a few weeks later and I can assure you I wasn't naked then. What. The. Fuck.

Since just after Christmas, he'd been acting all boyfriendy again. When I asked him why he called me his girlfriend, he said "shut up stupid face" (seriously) and kept doing the boyfriend type crap ... well, everything T-Bone ... not normal boyfriend crap. I told him one day a few weeks ago that if he wants to be my boyfriend, just show me. Maybe tell me he can't live without me (gag) and that breaking up with me was a mistake. Try something, man, really. He mock pouted for an hour and said he didn't like my ultimatum. So I drove him home. I went back over a few hours later though because we had plans that neither one of us wanted to break (part 1 - poker and beer. part 2 - sexy time). We laughed it all off because that's what we do best. I know laughing wont get us much further, but I have a feeling he'll be the next one to get hurt. I think. If he has feelings. One thing I notice about myself is within all my mental poop, I seem to be able to turn my feelings off and on when I'm on defense. My emotional involvement with most people is very low. I have actually been told in the past that I don't even have a heart. It was kinda in a joking way, and I know I do have a heart - duh - but I'm fairly certain it doesn't work the same way as everyone elses. I don't hate too many people, even though I say I do daily. I can genuinely love someone while not being able to tolerate them. And of course, I separate sex from relationships (whore! remember). I've never had any true enemies, but I also don't know if I've had any true loves. So I guess I've always just taken the good with the bad when it comes to having a dysfunctional heart. Anyway, I thought I'd spare T-Bone the relationship talk. Again. But when he read a message I had sent to Aunt Crazy the other day, he got all pansy again and that's when I get pissed. It's like talking to a deaf-mute toddler doped up on benadryl. So ... commence relationship talk. Again. Then he snaps "look, I'm not getting married!" (a repetitive comment he tends to make to get change the subject when he's uncomfortable) Well, fuck, I guess! I hadn't even mentioned marriage AND I kinda figured since, um, HE BROKE UP WITH ME! He thinks it should be as easy as knowing we love each other and should just enjoy what we have in the moment. Sure, in the perfect little world he's created in his dim mind maybe.What-the-f-ever. I still don't know what I'm going to do (except maybe find someone random to sleep with), but I thought I'd blog about what I can make sense of this since he specifically told me not to talk to anyone about our relationship because it's none of their business. Or because he knows he's the stupid face and doesn't want people to shit on him? Well, since he also doesn't seem to want it to be MY business either, I thought I'd share it with the world. Or all 64 followers I have.

Monday, April 11, 2011

more of 'my kid makes me laugh'

When people hear Sydnerella call me "Mom" in public, we are noticed. She is 5'5", 2 inches taller than me. She has beautiful striking features. Also, she looks 16 years old and I look about 25 (until you come really close and see the wrinkles that are starting to form). The looks are of confusion. If she had any resemblence to me, maybe they'd believe we are sisters, but there's nothing. She is her fathers daughter. And not just physically. We can both look up at the same clear blue sky and when I say "wow, it's clear", she'll say, "It's pretty cloudy". Her dad believed he had light brown hair. It was actually as dark brown as hair gets before black. His eye sight was fine, he just liked the argument. It was never even about being right. If I had pointed out his hair was light brown first, then he'd say it was in fact dark brown. I want to punch him in the throat much more than I've ever wanted to punch my kid in the throat (like you haven't ...). I'm thrilled that my kid has many of his (good) features and it's a riot living with her and her sense of humour. She's quick and sarcastic and doesn't miss a damn thing (that's not a good thing often actually). Her logic and reasoning is creative. When I recently mentioned I have a friend who lives in Kentucky, she was impressed that I had a friend from the Eurpean country of Turkey. Kentucky Fried Turkey? See ... creative reasoning. A few weeks ago, just as I was about to pop a blue skittle in my mouth, she grabbed it from me. Viciously. Said she loves the blue skittles. She was sitting in the car laughing at me for pouting over my stolen skittle (she's mean too) when I hit a bump in the road and the skittle flew from her hand. Now who's laughing?? I was happy, she was sad. Since she found the skittle in the car a few days later, she is and always will be the clear winner of the skittle battle. As she is in most battles (I know, I know ... I over-compensate for picking a shitty father for her). And did I mention she's mean? I came down the stairs with a little bag of treats that I found in my carry-on bag while pulling out my passport. I hadn't used the bag in 6 months since my last trip. "Geeze mom, hiding snacks in your room now???" My explanation was never heard over her laughter and judgement and she brings it up often. At inappropriate times. That her mom hides food in her room. But everytime she tries to make me look like an ass, I bring up the time she told me that there IS a country that starts with a W. Winnipeg!