so, i know i am way overdue for a fabulously funny post, but post-divorce life has been so deliciously full and busy that i just haven’t had the time to write. so, once again, i submit to you, dear readers, a much too short, gratuitous, easy way out, my kids are awesome post. gimme another month or three & the posts should be flowing once again like the wine i drink…

i have been getting the house ready for sale for about 2 months now and the girls are very in tune to the changes i have made for “staging.” one of the things recommended to me was to put a tea kettle on the range which i did. last night, there were 2 pots on the range from dinner & 6 year old said to me: “you put the pots on there too?” apparently i don’t cook all that much.

the girls were wrestling until 9 year old got hurt. when i went to see what the nature of the injury was, she said: “she hurt the apple of my cheek.”

me: “who keeps leaving water bottles around the house?” 9 year old: “not me. i did not leave those half-drInken.”

9 year telling me about her friend at camp the other day: “she got hit by a softball which really isn’t soft at all.”

me to 6 year old: “your counselors must think you are so cute.” 6 year old: “yes. yes they do.”

while pouring apple juice for 9 year old, i finished the remains of one bottle and was about to add more from a new bottle of a different brand. she stopped me and said, “i don’t like my juices mixed.”

while pouring frosted flakes from the bag, 6 year old said with great despair, “all the  good sugar is on the bottom.”

6 year old used the toilet after i had cleaned it with some blue stuff. she came out of the powder room with a very concerned look on her face and said to me, “mommy, something is wrong. my pee pee came out green.”

9 year old had a stomach virus a few weeks ago, this exchange occurred:

9 yr old: “after i regurgitate i am still very gassy. i call them my aftershocks.”

me: “well, it smells awful”

6 year old: “well, yours are worse, mommy.”

9 y/o telling 6 y/o about a camp game she played called “business:”"they teach us how to make an affordable profit.”

me to 6 y/o: “you didn’t brush your teeth this morning.” 6 y/o: “it’s ok – i brushed them yesterday.”

9 y/o:”my advice, if you don’t have the cutest toes, is not to wear flip flops.”

9 y/o: “i am an O pal.” me: “a what?” 9 y/o: “an O pal. it’s my birthstone.”

6 y/o looking at a photo of someone sewing: “what’s that thing on her thumb?” 9 y/o: “it’s a thUmble.”

9 y/o: “is that music in our car or someone else’s?” me: “i want you to just think about that question.” 9 y/o: “oh.”

me to 6 y/o who is watching a movie: “is this the movie or a preview?” 6 y/o: “it’s a featured preview.”

9 y/o to 6 y/o discussing what to wear to camp the next day: “if your pits sweat like mine, i recommend wearing a tank top.”

upon noticing i was watching the new newlywed game hosted by carnie wilson, 9 y/o asked: “are you watching the fat bachelorette?”

the girls were playing an online dress-up game and 6 y/o asked what t-strap shoes were. 9 y/o informed her, ” high heels that are strap-ons.” i nearly spit out my drink.

playing the same game, 9 y/o said her character went to get her eyebrows done at “pluckers.”

upon hearing the alarm & me saying it was time to get up, 9 y/o said with her eyes still closed, ” dos minutos, por favor.” that is it – she is cut off from plaza sesmeo!

so it’s finally come to this: i can no longer stand the sight of myself naked.

i am trying to lose a few pounds by substituting some meals with those powdered protein shakes. i was worried i wouldn’t like the taste, but it turns out they are delicious once you add the vodka.

i have yet to own a car whose side view mirrors i didn’t scrape against the side of the garage. it must be genetic or we are 1/32 asian, because there has never been one car owned by a woman in my family that does not have white paint marks along the sides. when a new car pulls into the garage for the first time, it’s never a question of if this one will get scraped against the side, but when. this is the core reason of why we lease our cars instead of buy – we need a fresh one after 3 years. did you know those mirrors contain over 76 parts & cost a fortune to repair? and if the mirror gets fully lopped off  – it  will set you back about 600 clams to replace which means you will probably just decide to give up vision on that side completely. of all the brilliant technological advancements in car features, i don’t understand why they can’t put a sensor on the damn mirrors that makes them automatically fold in when you get too close to something. i would gladly pay for it as an upgrade. “ma’am would you like to add the no-depth perception option?” “you had me at no-depth.”

you know that beer commercial where they advertise “drinkability?” that is ridiculous, all liquids by definition are drinkable. now if you tell me you can make a steak drinkable, then i just may be impressed.

i wish i had been born a WASP – it’s my fantasy to be in a family that solves all of its problems by drinking instead of talking.

those awful parents on reality shows have a camera on them at all times and that is the best they can do? what the hell are they like when no one is watching? if i had a camera on me all the time, i would be the best mommy ever.

cutting my finger nails too short makes picking my nose extremely difficult. cutting my toenails too short makes me feel oddly exposed.

the best thing to ever happen to my marriage was the divorce.

more random items found while packing: my original dymo label maker from when i was 10, ashes of my 2 dead cats,  & band aids from my kids’ immunizations (ewwww).

i absolutely love a pack of new white socks. so bright & full of promise. “i am definitely going to keep these white this time. i will bleach them with every washing.” sure.

listen up hong kong phooey, unless you’re an israeli soldier training in krav maga for actual combat, suburban white dudes doing “martial arts,” are a.) wimps who got beaten up as kids and still haven’t gotten over it or  b.) just plain tools. since we don’t live in feudal japan, bowing into your sensei in the produce section is just plain queer & horrifyingly embarrassing to those with you, especially your children. and vegas odds say you will still get your black belt wrapped around your neck while kung fu fighting in an actual street fight. but by all means, try it out & prove me wrong.

so i guess you know the new motorolla backflip commercial really resonates with me: “this just in: a local bachelor age 41 just enrolled in ka-ra-tay.”

i realized i had not been drinking enough water lately – so i started using it as my only mixer.

i plan my showers around not showering: i showered this afternoon, so i wouldn’t have to get up early to shower for work tomorrow. also, i would rather be clean for dinner tonight, than for work tomorrow. see how that works? it’s very calculated – being filthy actually still requires a lot of planning.

i don’t see life through rose colored glasses – they’re pinot noir colored.

out with some friends the other night, i simultaneously burped & farted. my pal said, “all you needed was a snort for the trifecta.” it’s so good to have new goals.

if it seems like i don’t care – you’re right.

at work the other day i was making sure a new can of paint matched the old paint a customer brought in; but the new wet sample had to be dry to be sure it was a perfect match. while i stood over it with the hair dryer, it occurred to me that i was literally watching paint dry.

i heard there is this new trend for women in the workplace called, “makeup free monday.” i am following a trend too, it’s called, “no fucking way anyday.”

so i am seeing a new therapist now. you may know him: Dr. Schmirnoff.

after the 19 total years of the dating, the bad marriage, & the inevitable divorce, i just don’t wanna talk anymore. it’s like the seinfeld episode where jerry asks elaine if she wants to go the diner, and she replies, “i’ll go if i don’t have to talk.”  i may consider marriage again if i don’t have to talk.

i think sleeping with guys who have tiny dicks is okay – but only in your 20’s – you know, as starter penises. training weiners so to speak.

i just learned that carbohydrate addiction can lead to alcoholism which means i am doubly fucked – i like to overindulge in carbs while drinking too much.

i am a pain in the ass, but big boobs make up for a multitude of sins…

women, we must band together to stop LDP: Long Distance Penis. you do not need to travel for dick. you have the vagina: the penis will come to you.

an unanticipated benefit of divorce: you can tell your ex-monster in law that you always thought she was a cunt.

you know the show snapped on the oxygen channel about women who kill their husbands? emmy material in my opinion.

while i am on the subject of women who kill their men and the vicarious thrill these stories provide- i wonder how many were pmsing at that moment when they made that final decision. or was it just after the 400th time she had her pants around her ankles and saw that he left an empty toilet paper roll?

my water tasted odd and then i realized why – no vodka in it.

no wonder why my marriage failed: he was a Type Asshole personality and i was a Type Bitch.

guys want to know why they always have to be the ones to buy the drinks. the answer is simple: those who wear the pants you want to get into get their drinks for free. guys, you are still coming out ahead – literally.

i saw a dude wearing a t-shirt that was from a seafood restaurant that said: Love, Peace & Crabs.  (or was it a cathouse?)  i first read it as Love, Peace & CARBS. it’s my new motto.

so in the paint department, paint rollers are categorized by size and nap. for instance, 9 inch semi-rough, 7 inch semi smooth, 4 inch ultra smooth. do i have to explain why i have a hard time recommending rollers to anybody with a straight face?

the asshat had a tantrum the other morning & removed the access cards from all of the dvrs. my first thought was, i can just watch tv on this new-fangled thing the kids call the internet and that is exactly what i did. but after the girls got home from school, fear set in – what the hell was i going to do without the tv? actually play with my kids? pay attention to them for more than 15 minutes? play, oh the horror of it, games? or worse - barbies? in discussing this latest jackassery with my pal, she said, “he removed the dvr cards? that is just child abuse. he can’t withhold icarly.”

i have realized that you don’t need to be the biggest fish in the pond. you just need to be the smartest fish. plus knowing the right sharks doesn’t hurt.

some people buy their vodka by brand name. some people buy their wine by the country of origin or region. i just look for the highest alcohol content in the cheapest bottle & call it a day.

the way i see it, grapes have 2 options in life: they can be like the caterpillar in the chrysalis & emerge a beautiful new bottle of wine, or they can just stick with the the bunch until the life gets sucked out of them and they become raisins trapped in a tiny box. not that different from women, really.

new bumper sticker: life is too short to date douchebags.

every time i think i want to get back into the dating pool, i dip a toe in and realize it’s not properly chlorinated. kind of like white trash water parks, but dirtier.

so the home stager left a full bottle of wine here as a prop. that lasted 12 hours. i told her to add it o my bill…she has no idea who she is dealing with.

if age is really just a number, then i pick pi.

can anyone explain the scarf over the tank top look  in the summer? there is no way my brain can make this work.

stop asking us to cut & paste your e-chain letter messages about sick children, save an owl day, & missing puppies in our facebook status, instead, put this in your status: support an aspiring brilliant writer who is putting her life back together. subscribe to singlewithvodka.com. it’s a much better cause.  and don’t forget to mention the fan page... (it’s followed mostly by russian mail order brides that have misinterpreted the meaning of single with vodka entirely).

xoxox

yours in vodka,

the gggb

9 year old: “mommy, when you die can i have those earrings great grandma gave you?” me: “umm, sure.” 6 year old: “can i have your sesame street t-shirts, then?”

9 year old told me a story about being with a friend who put some candy in her pocket at a store without paying for it and she said the girl “knew better.” she then continued to tell me that she was displeased with being in that situation and proclaimed, “she can have fun with me, but legally.”

9 year got new glasses today. she put them on & then immediately belted out, “i can see clearly now…”

in the process of packing up the house, the girls discovered several bags of unopened halloween candy i had stashed away for next year (yeah – that’s right, i have no issue handing out stale candy). 9 year old  said with the heartbreaking look of betrayal only a child can portray, “how could you have kept this a secret?”

it occurs to me that while i write about them, i keep telling the girls to leave me alone so i can write about them.

9 year old after arguing with grandmother about heating up leftover pizza: “i do like this pizza warm.” grandmother: “i know. you’re just used to eating everything cold.” me: “ouch.”

my sister is pregnant with twins about which the girls are very excited. there has been much speculation between them as to if it will be 2 girls, 2 boys, or a “set.” should it be “one of each,” 9 year said, “i call the girl.”

me: “after you finish your homework, please clean up your room.” 6 year old: “i can’t – i have other plans for after my homework is done.”

6 year old: “my friend said that her bus driver gives them ice pops in the summer & hot chocolate in the winter. ” me: “i’m not sure the bus driver would do that since so many kids have food allergies.” 9 year old: “no, they can’t. eating is strictly prohibited on the bus. it says so.”

6 year old was trying to wiggle her most recent loose tooth out and i said,  “i am not sure the tooth fairy is prepared for a tooth to fall out tonight.” then 9 year old said: “well. maybe she can give her something homemade – with a paperclip.”

6 year old after overhearing her father on the phone with a client: “daddy, why do you need so many chairs?” father: “what do you mean?” 6 year old: “you said on the phone you needed 2000 chairs.” father (a stockbroker): “that’s shares.”

i painted my nails pink the other night of which my 9 year old took notice and remarked, “it’s been years since i saw anything but a french on your nails.”

9 year old announced, “i am only using this shirt for pajamas from now on. it makes me look like i have boobs.” me: “i thought you wanted boobs -you are completely obsessed with getting them.” 9 y/o: “i am but i want them at the regular age. this shirt makes me looks like i have trainer boobs.”

9 y/o discussing her little crush: “we are meant for each other: we both hate ketchup, we both like honey mustard, we both hate crusts, and we both lie for no reason.”

9 y/o noticing the compact florescent bulbs in the outdoor fixtures: “oh, you used those curly-q light bulbs. now people will know you are green-system.”

grandmother to 6 y/o: “you’re really good at art. you should take lessons. ” 6 y/o “if i’m so good why do i need lessons?”

9 y/o: “something came to my attention.” me: “what’s that.” 9 y/o: “my belly button is all crusty.”

me to 9 y/o: “i can’t believe you’re going to be a fifth grader.” 9 y/o “yeah and then i’ll be middle school. i’ll be shaving in a few years.”

9 y/o: “photo shoot” with grandma’s cat: “now, give me naughty kitty.”

me on phone with 9 y/o: “is the plumber still there?” 9 y/o: ” yes, and i saw his crack.”

9 y/o: “he had a quack in his voice” me: “what?????” 9 y/o: “you know the saying ‘a frog in your throat?’ well, he had a quack.”

our californian cousins came to visit us during memorial day weekend. between the 3 of us we have 5 girls ranging from 15 months to almost 10 years old. hilarity and much squealing ensued:

our cousins got into town late, so we went to their hotel room to visit with them a bit before bedtime. the girls were all so excited to see each other that they got slightly rambunctious. so, i said we all needed to be quiet because people might be sleeping in the other rooms and my 9 year old backed me up by saying, “yeah, you’ll wake the elderly.”

after a particularly messy day with her cousins that involved barefoot activities, 9 year old proclaimed she needed a shower to wash her “blackened feet.” 6 year old asked if she could go in the shower with her and i said it was up to her sister, to which 9 year replied, “sure. God Bless her if she wants to go in with me.”

9 year old needed to take the toothbrush her grandmother keeps at her house for a spontaneous overnight at the hotel with her cousins and when her grandmother said it was no problem, she then said to grandma, “will you be a dear and get it for me?”

my cousin took his daughter & my 9 year old into The Big Apple one of the days to do all sorts of fun things. one of the stops was Dylan’s Candy Bar where my cuz asked her if they should bring back a tequilla lollipop for me as a joke. without skipping a beat she replied, “my mommy likes vodka.”

after dinner with the cousins one night at my mother’s house, we ignored our kids, while three of the girls played in my mother’s large walk in closet and we could hear that they were getting quite rowdy. cuz & i glanced over our wine glasses at my mother to see if we should intervene and she just said, “not my kids.” and we both replied, “not my closet.”

after a day filled with sugar, grandma brought out the cupcakes. 9 year old noticing my displeasure said, “grandma makes trouble.”

at great adventure we all went to the restroom but somehow became separated from my mom and sister and they ended up in different parts of the park after the pit stop. my group wondered how this was so & concluded my mom & sis must have exited the rest rooms a different way than we did, to which 9 year old said, “well, with them, it’s the blind leading the blind.”

my cuz needed to entertain his daughter one day when my girls were with their dad & i was at work. after brainstorming several activities, he chose a local water park i had suggested. i had warned him that the element of people that frequented that particular establishment were a bit “white trashy” and i was sure the carnies, themselves, must go there on vacation. when he came back & i asked him what he thought, he told me, “well, it wasn’t blue collar, it was orange jumpsuit.”

while eating dinner at the park my sister felt something cold on her arm. apparently,  our adorable 3 year cousin decided to rest her cheesestick upon it, to which our aunt, their nana, said, “honey, please don’t put your food on people.”

and adults say funny things too:

i texted my pal that she should google ShaToBu.com – it’s a calorie burning undergarment for chicks. she texted me back: “is that that whacky japanese animation porn? i had roomate who watched it and he was a pig.” i literally LOLed when i read that!

the divorce is the first thing my husband and i have agreed upon in the 14 years since we got married.

i’m thinking about hosting a dinner party – my wine rack is empty.

people tell me i look a lot younger than i am – i think vodka may have preservative qualities.

it really troubles me how poorly my family communicates; but i’m not going to say anything…

not only are some days a complete waste of makeup, but they are also a complete waste of contacts.

i am so happy i had 2 girls – i can’t wait until we are all on the rag at the same time.

my kids are seeing a therapist because i prefer to pay someone to listen them bitch about me so i don’t have to.

in these past 3 months, i have been caught in the middle of more than one marital spat over paint colors. so, one day i cheerfully told a particularly angry couple that i get $9.80 per hour to mix paint, but i charge $325 for mediation.

if i don’t call back, don’t take it personally -it’s only because i don’t want to.

not only am i my own worst enemy – but i am my own worst pusher.

i am so organized, my items for curbside bulk collection were all sorted and labeled. i take pride in having the neatest trash in my neighborhood.

self involvement is extremely time consuming.

it’s not really the possibility of catching an std that worries me about sleeping with strangers, it’s more the being found in a hotel room dead and  chopped up into a million tiny pieces. i can just imagine that being explained to the kids: “well, girls, you see, mommy was a bit of a slut…”

when my kids tell me long stories i totally zone out. they never have a point anyway.

how much of a leap is it to make vodka from the decomposing potatoes in my pantry that i keep buying & forgetting i have? it seems such a waste to  throw them out. while we are at it,  what can you make out of onions?

for most women, me included, the supermarket is a major social event. it would really be helpful if they would install chatting & non-chatting aisles.

i may be the only chick who doesn’t give a crap about sex in the city. i guess it’s time to turn in my vagina.

do proponents of same sex marriage realize it will only lead to same sex divorce?

the realtor told me people look through your drawers when they come to see the house. so i asked her if she thought i should move my vibrator collection to the bottom drawer.

i had the most surreal experience at the supermarket check-out the other day: i gave the cashier the empty packages from the items i had grazed upon whilst shopping so she could ring them up and she told me i should have just put the empties back on the shelf so i wouldn’t have had to pay for them. isn’t that the exact opposite of her job description?

i always want to take the high road, but i’m too short.

thinking “outside the box” is passe, i say, think inside the bottle.

when my girls bitch about the dysfunction in our house, i make them watch supernanny or wife swap. suddenly, i’m a prize.

sometimes, even i am shocked by my behavior.

i have mastered sucking in the gut, it’s these goddamn lovehandles that i can’t contain.

at my recent visit to the dentist, i finally came out of the closet and admitted to the hygienist that i rarely, if ever, floss, but i promised to start immediately after this cleaning. then we both laughed hysterically.

it occurs to me that once menopause hits, Hot Mama will have an entirely new & different meaning.

after my mother publicly proclaimed she was the sanest of us all in the family – the very same thought i had concluded about myself -i realized sanity is wholly a matter of perspective.

watching shows on my dvr is liking eating peanut m&m’s or drinking: just one more & then i am done. i swear.

now that i am older & rebuilding my life after a long divorce and have a lot less time, i have no issue sleeping my way up to the top unlike when i was young and appalled by such a notion. now it would just be killing 2 birds with one stone and i am not really sure who would be doing whom the favor anyway.

so otc meds now have warnings about “medicine abuse.” i think alarm clocks should come with a similar warning about “snooze abuse.” once you start its very hard to stop. i have been a life long functional snoozebuser. even my 9 year old builds 20 minutes into her wake up call for snoozing – they start so young these days.

i’m busy packing for the upcoming move: i started with the liquor cabinet.

i had to break up with my boyfriend – turns out his wife wasn’t all that comfortable with him dating.

things found so far while packing up the house: 27 naked barbies (why oh why must they be naked?), 134 lip glosses (actual combined total of my 2 girls’), 15 missing socks & 2 missing gloves (1 glove was mine), a shot glass in my snow boot, the lost & paid for school library book from 2 years ago, 4 baby teeth ( which could belong to anybody), 1 bottle opener in my underwear drawer, 11 keys that fit no lock, 14 usb cables that fit no device, cell phone chargers to every cell phone i have owned since 1993, & lots and lots of double A batteries…to be continued

it is just impossible not to feel like an alcoholic when you leave the liquor store with a bottle in a brown bag.

raising girls means someone will cry everyday and it’s not necessarily always one of them…

it’s true what they say about the apple not falling too far from the tree – i am raising 2 giant bitches.

my girls are tough and question everything. i am left torn between feeling that it’s great to raise girls who will be strong women, but wishing they wouldn’t use it against me.

if i drink wine in anything other than a wine glass, i feel like i have a drinking problem. i dare you to try using a cinderella tumbler and feel differently.

since i discovered ebay, i am less of an impulse buyer and more of an impulse seller.

nothing kills a buzz quicker than having kids.

i decided what i want for my birthday when i turn 40: i want to be 20.

i once believed in sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. now, it’s caffeine, booze, & under-eye concealer.

why do all the boys on disney shows have that long girl hair or the i just got caught in a sideways windstorm helmet head? what market research yielded that look?

gravity is the natural enemy of boobs.

some people have coping mechanisms, i have an abuse strategy.

just to keep up appearances, i like to alternate the liquor stores which i visit, lest the staff begin to recognize me.

i date lawyers only to get my legal work done pro boner.

according to the quiz, i am not an alcoholic, but i am an abuser. so that means i don’t need a sponsor, but i could use some supervision.

i don’t see why anybody would be opposed to gay marriage -i am all about equal opportunity misery.

so i have a new realfommercial i plan to pitch to sally hansen: it’s called Guerilla Waxing. i am going to walk around retail establishments with their cold wax strips in my pocket  & a camera crew. when i spot a woman with a full mustache, my goons will hold her down & i will force wax her lip. the follow up show would in be in 6-8 weeks, but results may vary.

i may have unintentionally stumbled over the line from abuser to alcoholic the other night: there were no clean wine glasses and rather than wash one, i drank straight out of the bottle. i think i smell an intervention coming on…

have y’all noticed that lately, it’s been far easier for me to pass these one liners off as bona fide blog content than to actually expand upon an entire topic? 

9 year old on her vitamin: “it tastes like a dog’s throw-up that a monkey swallowed and then pooped.”

me to 6 yr old: “hey, what’s that on your tush?”

6 yr old, “nothing. you just want to squeeze it for fun.”

me to girls while looking at a flyer: “hey we should go see this show.”

6 yr old: “i am already going to see it with daddy.”

9 yr old: “yeah, and i don’t want to see it. it’s for ages to 5-8 and i am almost a tween. u know, a tweenager? that’s what they call it these days.”

joke written by 9 year old. she has warned me not to “plagiarize,” therefore it is reprinted here with her permission:

what did the client say about the hairdresser?

she is nice and easy-combing.

9 year old: “she said that i could babysit when she has a baby, but that won’t be for awhile because he hasn’t popped the question yet.”

9 year old: “what is the weather supposed to be tomorrow?” me: “i’m not sure. we need to check when we get home.” 6 year old: ” it will either be warm or cold.”

me to 9 year old: “are you sure you want to sleep with such a warm blanket?” 9 year old: “yes. i get cold even though my personality is warm.”

grandmother to 6 year old,” ok. let’s turn the light off for bed time.” 6 year old: “no, leave it on.” grandmother: “how are you going to get to sleep with such a bright light on?” 6 year old: “i will turn it off when i fall asleep.”

upon learning a couple is going to have a baby who is not currently married, 9 year old asks,” isn’t that illegal?”

9 year old: “mommy, take that backpack off the counter. this is where we eat and we are going to get germs in our food and get sick. we will get what they call the H1N1 Influenza they have been telling us about in school.”

one morning, i accidentally turned off my alarm instead of hitting snooze and woke the girls up for school a wee bit late. since we were rushed, 9 year old sprung into action to help me get both girls ready. when i got downstairs, she was busy making lunch for her sister and said to me, “you had to have another one?”

scene: double play date at my house

6 year old and her pal decided to paint their nails without asking me. i wasn’t pleased and muttered to myself that they “dragged all the nail polish downstairs to the basement”  within ear shot of 9 year old & her pal. the friend misunderstood & asked incredulously, “she drank all the nail polish?” to which i replied, “no dragged it.” and 9 year old added, “yeah, she’s 6, not mentally retarded.”

9 year old consoling 6 year old: “it’s just a fly. nothing to be scared of. it’s only 3 letters.”

how the tooth fairy got hustled

9 year old: “make sure you tell the tooth fairy about my tooth, so she leaves me a gift.”

me: “didn’t you tell me that you don’t believe in the tooth fairy anymore?”

9 year old: “no, i do.”

me: “okay then.”

next morning after collecting her loot:

9 year old “i know you’re the tooth fairy.”

me: “but last night you told me you believed in the tooth fairy.”

9 year old: ” i know. i just said that to get the money.”

me: “oh, i see.”

9 year old adding insult to injury: “also, it’s not that i don’t appreciate the “fairy dust” and all, but could she use a little less? it’s all over my bed & i have to change my sheets now.”

9 year old walking past plum tree in front yard: “i can smell the plummy goodness.”

6 year old to 9 year old: “you can teach me spanish.” 9 year old: “let’s just leave that to dora.” [the explorer]

6 year old: “this week is ‘poem in your pocket’ week. i have to rememberize a poem.”

6 year old: “there are different parts of your tongue for tasting different things. this part here is for butter.”

after observing meal laid out upon the table, 9 year old to grandmother: “you really know how to put together a dinner.”

9 year old discussing a friend: “she misses a lot of school. she is going to end up in the street with credit card debt and invalid health insurance.”

note in my lunch from 9 year old on a morning i had an upset stomach before leaving for work: “dear mom, i love you. stick it out.”

6 year old singing lyrics that say come closer: “get cole slaw”

grandmother to 9 year old: “3 lion cubs were born in a zoo the other day.” 9 year old, “who’s the lucky couple?”

9 year old: “hello, loser.”

6 year old: “hello, idiot.”

9 year old. “touche.”

9 year old: “she [6 year old] can sleep in my room in her sleeping bag.”

me: “well, i really don’t want her to sleep on the floor.”

9 year old: “no, in the sleeping bag in my bed. it contains her – she kicks.”

while cat-sitting my mother’s kitty, 6 year old was beckoning the cat to follow her up the stairs which prompted 9 year old to admonish, “he’s a cat, not a seeing eye dog.”

9 year old & i had the pleasure of watching a puppet show performed by 6 year old in which one of the characters became extremely wild and had to be “disciplined” by 6 year old. 9 year old turned to me and said, “you will have to excuse him [the puppet], he’s on medication.”

6 year old: “mommy, i can’t wear this shirt to school tomorrow. it has noodle straps” me:”ok, but i think you mean spaghetti straps.”

9 year old: “why would a cleaning product be called bleck?” me (barely containing my laughter):”that’s bleach.”

among other items i had put out for bulk collection week were 2 female dress forms – one black and one white. upon discovering that scavengers had taken the white one, but not the black one, 9 year old exclaimed, “how racist!.”

quote from 6 year old’s mother’s day project: “my mom is: as pretty as a flower and a unicorn.” that is the highest compliment i have ever received.

9 year old: “when i am an adult, i am going to have a purse & shoes to match every outfit.” me: “well, my work here is done.”

make mine extra dirty, please.

i asked verizon if they have an “unlimited bitching plan.” they do, but it gets routed through india, and i only bitch domestically because, even though it’s cheaper, i can’t stand the offshore delay.

is it wrong to nap during a playdate – at your house?

i immediately dislike men who give women the fish handshake. don’t be an asshole & break my hand, but give me a real handshake & show me some R-E-S-P-E-C-T, dammit.

i have found a cure for the common cold: take 2 vodkas & sleep late in the morning.

what is it about the sound of children snoring that is so delightful? oh yah, it means they are finally sleeping.

how many times is it acceptable to wear a bra before washing it? do they really get dirty?

90% of the time i don’t wear undies to work because when i bend down they stick out of these damn low waist-ed jeans. now, i show so much crack, i am in danger of being transferred to the plumbing department.

i’m not bitter – just sweet n’ sour.

i haven’t gained weight -  i’m bloated.

a quick perusal of my dvr menu will reveal that i watch far more cartoons than shows with real people.

there is a saying: your toad, is a prince to another. so, maybe if you leave him in a pond in the middle of a forest, some stupid princess will take him home with her and then you can ride off into the sunset…alone.

ladies, please wax. don’t bleach. it’s still a mustache even if it’s blond.

i am instituting a tampon exchange program called Code Red. here is how it works: any woman can walk up to any other woman anywhere and just say “Code Red” which is universal for “i need a tampon, stat!” it’s like the take a penny, leave a penny dish but it’s need a tampon, give a tampon. imagine the implications for facilitating peace and clean pants globally.

i am tired of hearing people from other countries & states proclaim that everything where they are from is better. really? is it? because here’s a newsflash: we didn’t invite you. see if they will take you & the rest of the assholes back.

my children make unreasonable demands and threats and throw fits when they don’t get what they want, but i told them i don’t negotiate with terrorists.

i know a man who wears a bad toupee with a baseball cap over it every day. i just can not wrap my head around it. is the toupee receding? doesn’t his head sweat doubly? that is a vanity rivaled only by anal bleaching, imo.

cats: the chosen pet of co-dependents – you love them because they hate you.

i am considering having only one eyebrow tattooed raised because i just can’t  master the muscle control to do that on my own.

i think a manic episode here and there can be very productive.

a friend remarked that when people say they have to quit drinking for awhile, she finds it worrisome. i told her that’s i why i have never said i would quit.

people frequently tell me i look like patricia heaton. i am never sure if it’s a compliment or an insult.

an oft overlooked bennie of divorce is the fact that you no longer have to pretend to like your in-laws.

jesus turned water into wine but i can turn a bad husband or a crying child into a vodka tonic.

once i stayed over my mother’s house and came down with a severe case of the runs and had no choice but to violate federal law and use chlorox cleanups in a manner inconsistent with their labeling…

parenting is not a democracy, it’s a monarchy; and i am the queen.

when people of color come into the store, i give them extremely exceptional customer service – it’s a weird reverse racism, but i want them to walk away thinking, “white people aren’t so bad, after all.”

so far the divorce is the the biggest fight we have ever had during the marriage..

all of the experiences in my life have led me to be the person i am today: a huge bitch.

if wine is the nectar of the gods, then vodka is the juice of the mortals.

quitting the gym has actually unexpectedly relieved me of a lot of guilt: the guilt of not going was far worse than the guilt of not working out at all.

the average marriage lasts 7 yrs. the average jail term is 5; but, you can get out of jail early for good behavior.

when people say i am a bitch, i am flattered. it means i am doing a great  job of pissing off the right people.

youth may be wasted on the young , but middle age ain’t no prize. and since i just saw a man wearing a “senior olympics” t-shirt, i am now even more terrified of old age, although it does involve some sweet discounts.

i hate hitting bottom – the bottom of the bottle.

so, i considered having my teeth professionally bleached until the hygienist told me i would have to avoid coffee & red wine afterward. well, that was a very short consultation.

having kids means never you will never have to be alone again- in the bathroom.

hey! the 1980’s called and kit wants his car alarm back.  the rest of us couldn’t give a rat’s ass if its beeping.

i did that no carb diet – until lunch. now, i just follow this food pyramid:

so my daughter wanted to know what the “c-word” is. i considered telling her that it’s her father’s pet name for me since the divorce.

dr. gggb says: one nostril continually running is far more annoying than both being stuffed up.

having a litter box in your home is like having a toilet you never flush.

it has been said that if we all sat around in a circle and put our bullshit in the middle, everyone would keep their own crap. this may be true, but i would still like the opportunity for a bullshit swap meet.

grape juice is really just wine with training wheels.

substitutes i have used for milk in my morning coffee when the milk in my fridge has curdled: vanilla yogurt, powdered milk, yo baby yogurt drink, hot chocolate mix, powdered milk from 1974, whip cream, mini marshmallows, cool whip, vanilla ice cream, sour cream with sugar, powdered sugar, carnation instant breakfast, and anything powdery or white that when mixed with water resembles milk. it would behoove me to learn to drink it black – i hear you never go back after that anyway…

i never realized the true depths of my need for validation & approval until i started a fb fan page. 100th fan gets a pony…

make mine extra dirty, please.

from the i am getting too old for this files:

i have been out with my pre-tween girls on more than one occasion when i clucked disapprovingly at what “teenage girls are wearing these days. it’s just disgraceful that their mothers allow that.” pictures from my high school years would reveal that i dressed like one of those tramps myself.

no matter how routine she knows it is, and despite her seemingly huge annoyance with it, any woman over 30 will always be secretly thrilled to be carded.

at 2 am there is nothing sadder than a drunk, over-botoxed, orange spray tanned, too skinny, bleached blond cougar in spandex with new tits on an old body alone at the bar for last call waiting for someone (anyone) to take her home for a mercy fuck. i am going to retire early from the singles’ scene before i can be described as doing even just one of those things (well, except for drunk).

from the that will ruin your day files:

upon sitting in the pedi chair for a relaxing treat after a long hard week, the tiny asian bitch looked at my gut and most likely trying to make conversation said, “you have baby?” i said, “no, apparently i gained some weight since i was here last, but thanks for noticing.” consequently,  she was quiet for the rest of the time which was nice because i always hate when they talk to me anyway.

while purchasing tickets for a movie, my mother asked for the senior discount. the vacuous 18 year old behind the counter then turned to me & asked if i would like the senior price too. at first i wanted to cry, but then i thought, “what the hell?” a discount is a discount.

from the hangover files:

i decided i must make a clean break from dirty martinis.

my liver can’t recover  like it used to. in college i could party as late as i wanted for as many nights as i wanted, pop 2 tylenols before bed & resume all of my daily activities. now if i want to binge drink for even one night, i need to plan for a week of recovery.

a friend remarked, “when people say they have to quit drinking, it makes me nervous.” i told her that’s why i never quit.

from the beauty files:

i decided i won’t  torture myself anymore to lose that last 5 (10) pounds because i realized there is no way you’re gonna get these perky 32DD’s (which are real AND spectacular) on a 5’0 frame without a little extra padding elsewhere.

my mom was never high maintenance (none of us have any idea how she raised me) but she did impart some valuable knowledge that has allowed me to preserve my glowing youth so successfully: 1. it is never too early to start using eye cream. 2. stay the fuck out of the sun especially when you are fair & have skin the thickness of filo dough.

it is not advisable to wear new fuck me heels in which you are unaccustomed to walking after a fresh pedi, because when you fall off them & twist your ankle, you will indubitably scratch up the fresh polish.

after a full day of personal maintenance, it occurred to me that i was all groomed up with no one to fuck.

i quit the gym, but it’s okay because i have some new behaviors in place: 1. i am going to jog to the fridge. 2. i will hide my remote & manually change the channels on the tv. and 3. i will put diet soda in my vodka.

from the lost poetry files:

roses are red.
violets are blue.
it’s been so long since i got laid,
that my legs i no longer shave.

from the irritable bowel syndrome files:

at dinner my pal thought her phone was vibrating, but she realized it was just her intestines.

after a long day or full evening of holding in my gas, i love when i am finally in my car alone and can let loose, but i am concerned my intense flatulence is obliterating the new car smell.

i often wonder what would happen if farts had a color and differed in color according to intensity of stank. kind of like the national state of emergency chart of color level for terrorist activity but for methane intensity. i think we would have no choice but to deem farting socially acceptable. except you might cross the street if you saw someone blow a dark green cloud knowing it was going to be especially foul.

the smaller the girl, the bigger the farts.

you ever think its safe to freely fart in an empty room at work and then someone walks in after you did? they have to know it’s you. no one else is in there.

you know your gas is intense, when you have to roll down the window.

you know you are in a solid relationship when you can lean to one side & lift a cheek and let it all out.

from the random musings files:

why is that i can instantly get most anything delivered to my house except for what i really need? vodka.

so, since i started writing, i can’t simply have conversations anymore or participate in any aspect of my life without wondering if its blogworthy and surreptitiously taking notes on my phone. to be fair, i tell people, “i am so using that in my blog.”

i tried to quit coffee but the withdrawal was so intense i didn’t want to live. plus i was tired and confused all the time. if i owned a drug company, i would develop a caffeine patch or a gum for those trying to quit or who just need a steady delivery system of caffeine to make it through the day. (hey merck, this is a freebie.)

being in bumper to bumper traffic has a domino effect: the guy in front of you moves up 2 millimeters, then you do, and down the line it goes. sometimes when sitting at a traffic light i will notice a space between me & another car that i can either ignore or move up few inches. i usually choose to move up because there is a delicious sense of power in knowing i just set off a major chain of cause & effect for all those poor slobs behind me. i am the traffic queen!

some commercials are so intentionally cheesy i can not imagine that the advertiser even thinks they are good. i figure that the production budget was so low, they advertiser just didn’t give a shit as long as the product was on tv.

i think we need to buy products on infommercials that will “save us so much time” because we wasted all that time watching said infommercials. they are just sooooo fucking long.

why was it when we were in high school (last century) the kids in the band & drama club were usually considered to be giant dorks, but as adults, musicians & actors are some of the most revered people in our society? same is true for the computer nerds whom we now worship when they fix our technology.

there is one good week for women in a month and that is the week immediately after the last day of her period when all of her jeans fit. the rest of the month she is either getting it or has it.

there are now studies extolling the virtues of eating chocolate, taking naps, drinking wine, having orgasms every day, laughing, and limiting hard core exercise. it can’t be long until we find out being a bitch is good for you too.

i think the reason bad weather is so infuriating is that there is no one specific on which to lay blame. you can bitch all you want, but you can’t do shit to change it. weather is the one thing we as humans will never be able to control & that simultaneously freaks us out & pisses us off.

i spent mother’s day with my mom & sister at my friend’s house with her boyfriend’s family for an hour before she came home. when she finally  walked in, i told her i was about to text her: “10 more minutes and this becomes a blog post.”

i am all about having a sense of humor and i really don’t understand how someone can lack one. when i run into a humorless person, it immediately becomes my personal challenge to make them laugh and walk away with a smile. i have a warped need for approval.

from the parenting files:

your child’s entire sex education & knowledge of profanity occurs not from your well thought out talks, but from riding that damn bus back & forth to school every day. that is what happens when you put fifth graders & first graders on the bus together. sound travels up from “the back.”

a woman is always most fertile right after losing that last bit of baby weight.

i don’t know why that no matter what my kids ask me to do, my first response is always to want to say no.

i hate hosting playdates, going to birthday parties, and basically anything  that requires dealing with other peoples’ children but does not involve booze at the same time.

happy hour used to mean going drinking after work with friends. now it’s that one hour after the kids finally go to bed when i think about drinking but fall asleep before i find the vodka bottle.

god, my kids are perfect, brilliant, well -behaved angels…i have never loved them so much as when they’re sleeping.

my friend had to get off the phone with me the other day because, as she put it “she had to bathe the bitches.” see, we all agree that we adore our children, but we are kinda over the mommy thing.

sometimes i overhear my 9 year old  & her friends complaining about me or saying i am mean after i get annoyed with them for asking me for something every 10 minutes and i think “why, you little ungrateful bitches.” then i think, good, i don’t want these fucking princesses to come back here anyway. what happened to the good old days when you were afraid of your friend’s parents and avoided them as much as possible?

from the files of i wish i said this:

i heard a comedian remark that marriage was like the stockholme syndrome. having been there & done that, i must say this is brilliantly true.

from the fashion police files:

i have noticed that generally, most heavy, slovenly dressed, unattractive women, carry the most expensive designer purses. it must be because you don’t have to be thin to wear a purse or even look in the mirror to try it on.

why is it that thin women have more modesty than the big girls? it seems the fatter the woman, the tighter the pants & shorter the top.

men revere summer as a time when women run around half naked to beat the heat. i dread it as the time of year when my retinas are burned by being forced against my will to see far more exposed bodily hair & flab than i could ever have imagined existed. some people need not to dress seasonally appropriately.

from the break-up files:

i realized it’s not the boyfriend i miss so much, it’s the 24/7 texting i have a hard time living without.

i won’t exactly be out on the street after my divorce, but my lifestyle will change significantly. it’s kind of a “riches to rags to story.”

in the process of leasing a new car a few months ago, i discovered going to car dealerships is far better than going to singles’ bars.

when i think about dating again, i refer to that old addage about many fish in the sea, but then a friend said, “same ones keep getting thrown back in the pond.” so i decided to buy the club pack of AAA’s.

from the working girl files:

if he is cute, it’s flirting. if he’s not, it’s sexual harassment.

now that i’m working again (for pay), i am one lazy bitch on my day off  – no more guilt about napping immediately after the school bus leaves.

from the sex files:

a woman scorned will undoubtedly make at least 1 of these 3 revelations immediately after the break-up: 1. he had a tiny penis. 2. she faked ALL the orgasms. 3. he was terrible in bed.

how we know when it’s really over as summed up by a fellow gggb: “my vagina is dry for him.”

i have a vibrator that is so good, that i don’t scream, “oh god.” i scream, “i don’t need a
man.”

women try to rationalize sleeping with a married man by saying, “if it’s not me, it will be someone else.” while that may indeed be true,  i say, let it be someone else, girl.

men have turned online dating sights into a free prostitution ring. keep that in mind, ladies.

once in awhile i get lonely & think i need a man in my life, but then i get some fresh batteries and in 60 seconds, i am over it.

masturbation, by it’s very definition, is a solo act. so let’s agree that i won’t bother to pretend to jerk you off and you don’t have to hold the vibrator.

in case you were wondering: it is possible to burn out the motor on a vibrator.

faking orgasms is like eating potato chips: you can’t stop at just one.

in honor of mother’s day, i have written some very special nursery rhymes for all the mommies out there. happy day, you wonderful, incredible, strong, superwomen.

old mother hubbard went to her cupboard to see that it was quite dry
she opened the door to see vodka no more and loudly did she cry.

there was a new mommy who was very blue.
she was so fucking tired, she didn’t know what to do.
so she poured herself a double
and took something for her head,
whipped her husband soundly
and then went to bed.

all around mommy’s big tush
the children fought each other.
the children thought t’was all in good fun ‘til,
FREAK! went the mommy.

a vodka a day
keeps the mommy okay.
kahlua in the morning
mommy’s pouring.
gin at night,
mommy’s all right.
bottle of wine before bed,
mommy really prefers red.
ten a day, hundreds each month, empty bottles, liquid lunch.

hey, hey bar keep,
have you any gin?
yes ma’am, yes ma’am
just came in.
one for the mother,
one for the wife,
and one for the kid
who took over your life.

diddle diddle dumpling
one shoe is gone.
went to bed
with my clothes on.
diddle diddle dumpling
i’m a mom.

eeny meeny miney moe.
catch a toddler on the go.
if he bites you,
you best let go.
eeny meeny miney moe.

the itsy bitsy rugrat
got hold of a black marker.
off came the cap
and all the walls were darker.
out came the mom
from in the crapper all alone.
swearing never again will freely that kid roam.

mommy, mommy chocolate eater.
had a diet that couldn’t keep her.
stuffed her mouth full of jelly beans.
fuck! now she needs all new jeans.

pussy cat, pussy cat
where have you hid?
in the bushes, away from that kid.
pussy cat, pussy cat, why did you go?
i crapped in his bed since i hate him so.

wives of a feather flock together.
especially if there’s wine.
gin or vodka, it’s their choice.
as long as i get mine.

the mommy in the hell.
the mommy in the hell.
hi-ho she’s always drunk.
the mommy in the hell.

ring around the soccer mom.
the PTA mom is faster.
fuck you, fuck you.
you’re all over-achievers!

super stressed mama sat in a corner
drinking her vodka & rye.
she chugged the first one and felt quite numb.
and then quietly did she cry.

little miss muff
sat on her duff
eating her kid’s table scraps.
along came a husband who said all day she did nothin’.
now she is doing 25 to life.

little bo peep hid from her sheep
and then she didn’t mind them.
she left them alone and had shots of petrone
animal control would find them.

jack and jill went up the hill
to fetch their lazy father.
they both fell down & broke their crowns
because their father is a moron.

jack sprat ate no fat.
his wife ate no lean.
because he never fucking came home for dinner.

mom be nimble.
mom be quick.
mom catch the kid
about to be sick.
mom run fast.
don’t be slow.
otherwise on the carpet it will go.

fe fi fo fum!
i smell the lies of a bad husband.
i know he’s been in a another’s bed.
i am going to beat him upon his head.

young mother cole was a very lonely soul.
and a lonely pretty wife was she.
she called for her handy man.
she called for her plumber.
and then she called for her painters three.

hey diddle diddle
the kid in the middle
is usually kind of off.
the little one laughed
when the oldest took note
that mommy ran away with a cop.

hickory dickory dock.
somewhere it’s 5 o’clock.
so mommy poured one
and down it went.
hickory dickory dock.

hush little baby,
don’t say a word.
mama’s gonna change your turd.
if that turd really stinks,
then mama’s gonna need a drink.
if that drink don’t do the trick,
then mama’s gonna get really sick.
if mama gets sick and makes a fuss,
the neighbors just may call dyfus.
if dyfus comes to take the kids,
daddy is gonna flip his lid.

humpty dumpty sat on a bar stool.
humpty dumpty drank ‘til he drooled.
all the queen’s horses & all the queen’s men,
wouldn’t let humpty come home ever again.

hush a buy mommy,
in the strip mall.
when the stores open,
visa will call.
before school ends
mommy must leave.
then much will cry mommy, shoesies, & all.

mommy’s pants are falling down.
falling down.
falling down.
mommy’s pants are falling down.
her muffin top is showing.

i’ve been doing all the housework
all the live long day.

i’ve been doing all the housework
just to scrub this dirt away.

cant you hear the bathroom calling?
it’s the next place i must clean.

don’t you hear the husband shouting?
“i need some underwear!”

bitch, won’t you do
bitch, won’t you do
bitch, won’t you do the laundry?

bitch, won’t you do
bitch, won’t you do
bitch, won’t you do the laundry?

no one’s in the kitchen with mommy.
no one’s in the kitchen, i know.
no one’s in the kitchen with mommy
not helping so she can’t go.
me, my, me my oh-h-h
me, my, me my oh-h-h
me, my, me my oh-h-h
not helping so she can’t go.

now check out this e-card i wrote for real:

http://sendables.jibjab.com/category/mothers_day
i wrote the card that says “today is your day.” now, send it to yo mama!

i don’t know what it is about organizing/cleaning that i so deeply adore,  but i just can’t stop doing it. i know i come from a long line of anal people: my great grandfather was called The Tyrant, my grandfather insisted my grandmother iron his hankies into perfect squares, and my father kept his shirts in the bag with the cardboard from the cleaners precisely stacked on his closet shelves (my sister & i used to try to pirate that cardboard without disturbing the perfect order of his shirts but he knew every time). or maybe it is just my manifestation of OCD combined with the false sense of control i feel i have over my life when a drawer is perfectly outfitted with labeled bins. as a kid i loved to clean and purge. my sister was always rescuing my priceless childhood memories from the kitchen sized garbage bags i would smuggle up to my room and fill with stuff that i eventually tried to buy back on ebay (and it turns out you really can’t buy your childhood back). i even had a circa 1979 dymo label maker which my sister & i used to label everything in the gd house. there was nothing like new pristine school supplies and brandy new boxes of crayons to send me into a tizzy. and i was quite neat for the most part, save for the messy anomaly of my teenage years. so, you can not imagine what a horrible, awful surprise it was to learn i had married a slob of epic proportions. we are talking a filthy, messy, stacker. nothing tortures  a neat person more than having a slovenly roommate (just ask felix unger). i was miserable and had to do something about it, so i turned to a trusted friend for help, Mr. Clean, and became completely obsessive with instilling order in my life.

the organizing impulse really kicked into high gear when i learned i was pregnant with my second child (a sweet surprise that occurred immediately after i lost the last bit of first baby weight & had bought an entirely new wardrobe of very expensive size 1 jeans which never got worn): i had the idea that if i could somehow systematize my entire home and catalog every single item located in it, i would be running a well oiled machine before rugrat number 2 joined the family to turn things upside down with her own special brand of chaos. it would be different this time after the baby came – it just had to be. it had been 3 years since number 1 invaded, and i was just beginning to feel like i was finally in control of my life again (which is really a well practiced illusion for anyone with children anyway). i watched all the organizing shows, bought instructional books (which i could now write myself), took notes, and then attacked my home from every angle. i  purged all the useless items and had every single closet professionally organized. i was buying giant plastic storage tubs before it was fashionable. and i worked it like a job before there was an actual industry completely dedicated to the Organizing Arts. anyway, by the time i was 8 months pregnant and balancing with one toe on a bar stool i had fashioned into a ladder so i could clean off the last high shelf in the kitchen, i had achieved my goal of 100% complete domestic organization and OCD niravna was mine (but the post baby organizational bliss was short-lived since once that second runt became mobile, she quickly desecrated my sacred Temple of Neatness).

my closets became a thesis in anal retention. all garments were placed on wood hangers (NO WIRE HANGERS!) which all must be made of the same wood and finish and FACE THE SAME WAY. as a kid when i had those colorful plastic hangers, they too were arranged by color. clothes were lined up according to season, function, color order (ROY G. BIV), and arranged from shortest to longest by sleeve and overall length. do i even have to tell you about the shoes with polaroid pix on the front of the boxes displaying the contents and stacked according to the same stringent standards as the clothing placement? (but the move to the dorm room with what can barely be called a closet when the divorce started destroyed that fashion utopia. it’s okay. we will rebuild.) i also run a tight ship in all of my domestic departments: in the kitchen, all cans & food goods face the same way and are alphabetized according to type with tallest items in the back. there is no drawer lacking excessive amounts of perfectly fitting modular containers filled with color coordinated utensils. no spice is without a rack. in the bathroom, there is no hair care product apart from its brethren or out of a basket. no toiletry roams free allowed to float aimlessly in a drawer or a cabinet. all things must be properly contained & corralled. paper goods lined up by type. i have my own hot line to call for emergency label maker tape refills. hell, my entire basement & kitchen remodels were thinly veiled excuses to build glamorous storage spaces designed to hold beautiful high end containment systems. i built a fucking cedar closet outfitted with cedar hangers. i searched tirelessly for hours to find just the right bin and there was no organizing device i wouldn’t buy. i have my socks in grids. by color. and type. my bras & panties (which, i am sure you have figured out, must match) are stored as a set separated by color by drawer dividers. why i am not next in line for ceo of The Container Store (my heaven on earth) is a mystery to me. and there is no doubt that i successfully passed the organizing gene onto to my kids.

my kids have learned my insane habits too. miss 9 year old is painfully neat & won’t allow a single stray item in her room (which is really just a glorified container for her things since she pretty much lives with me in here in the cell). she also likes to throw everything out and has to be watched like a hawk just like me as a child. “you are going to want that in 25 years.” “no, i won’t.” “trust me. you will and you won’t be able to buy back your judy blume diary on ebay.unfortunately, i know.” (i certainly don’t want her to make the same purging mistakes i did as a young novice. i never had an organizing mentor.) miss 6 year old is truly a slob at heart, but does clean when asked, BUT she calls it “organizing,” and she can’t seem to tidy up without embarking upon huge re-organization projects that involve emptying every single thing she owns onto the floor and assigning new placements to each – which is the same exact way i clean. and by the way, i couldn’t wait for her to read so she could read the labels on all the bins and be organizationally self-sufficient. at one point after i had sold all of my own & the girls’ purged items on ebay, i dubbed my self The Tidy Terror and and i actually had an entire schtick going in which i helped people organize by going through their stuff and selling it for them on ebay. that was a decent gig for awhile but i had to store too much crap in my house and it conflicted with my personal domestic organizational scheme and just really began to stress me out, man.

you can immediately read my mental status by how neat & clean my house is. when i feel perfectly at ease in my life, the order in my home rivals that of a military barrack’s.  when i start to lose it, you can see that by the deterioration of my home – stuff will be all over because i just stop caring. but then the mess stresses me out, so i go into a tornado of cleaning in order to feel more in control. a kind of chicken & egg conundrum really. so you can only imagine the manic depressive organizational cycles my home has suffered over the past 21 months of The Less Than Amiable Divorce Proceedings. and the reality of living immigrant style in one small room with my 2 girls, has taken it’s toll on my neatness as evidenced by the buffet of food stains that was formerly known as, The Carpet. so, naturally, it also follows that as the divorce winds down & i feel a renewed, but cautious, sense of hope & control over my own life, i was inspired to spring clean. the other evening i was feeling so elated about A New Development in The Divorce, that i sorted my enormous bag of free samples into a plastic expanding file AND labeled them appropriately with the professional grade DYMO 3000: cleansers, moisturizers, skin care, hair care, and makeup. OMG. that is soooo insane, even for me, but i was so full of self-satisfaction i that slept without a care in the world that night. but i don’t stop at my own domicile – i have to keep feeding the beast.

i dont fuck around with my organizing.

i have been known to invade other peoples’ homes with my cleaning tendencies if they will let me or are just too weak to resist. like when my mom was sick in december, i seized that as my opportunity to “help” her by organizing her life. first i pounced on her kitchen and cleared all the counters. i can’t stand so much stuff being displayed. then i emptied her pantry, fridge & freezer and scrubbed until it all  shined like the top of the empire state building as miss hannigan had demanded of annie. i was completely disgusted with the state of her fridge – there is no excuse for mystery sticky messes & crumbs. i firmly believe that where you keep your food should be pristine. after eliminating the extremely past due food items, i returned it all to the shelves but it was merchandised perfectly: all labels facing out, products in alignment, condiments with condiments, juices all together, cheeses stacked by type in the drawer. next, i hit that mass of papers she likes to call The Office. i labeled all of her hanging files, filed all the piles of papers, and made her look through every loose scrap of paper, coupon, and article she pulled out that will never be read unless god forbid she was saving them for me (but she knows where i file all of that helpful advice – the circular file). then we made lists and lists of lists (oh god how i LOVE lists) and she pledged her devotion to a new life of organization and told me she would reform her wayward ways as soon as she was well again. it was 48 hours of restored health before things returned to their natural state & the sanctity of The Organizational Oath was violated. sigh, you can only do so much for some people. but i have new arenas for expansion.

now that i am gainfully employed, there is a whole new level of organizing i have undertaken that i never even imagined existed: The Paint Department. i like to keep busy all day at work – i am not one for standing around which drives the slackers who were hired before me nuts since i probably make them look bad. it’s not on purpose or to be a suck ass (what kind of ladder can i climb, other than orange, there anyway?) but as you can see, inventory control just comes naturally to me. obviously part of my job is to stock the shelves. now, most employees fill in “The Holes,” as well call them in The Business, only as a blatant need arises. i am busy pulling out merch from the back of the 6 foot deep shelves that hasn’t seen daylight since the store opened 13 years ago. it’s like an inventory Land Of The Lost back there. but i don’t sop there. oh no. i climb that 65 foot orange ladder to the roof-line so i can pull the boxes down from the top & properly label them with my corporately approved black sharpie. i put like items together into the proper bay’s overhead area directly above the same items on the shelves (we pros call it “striping”). why are those spray cans from here stored with the paint brushes over there? harummpf, i say. of course i get so involved in this fun, i forget that i actually have to mix paint for customers sometimes. but i have to tell you that the spray paint aisle has never looked so beautiful. it brings a tear to my eye. i found some colors that weren’t even out for sale! the other day, one of my associates commented, “girl, i walked by you today, and you were so far back into those shelves, all i could see were your feet.” plus the frequent squatting down to fix all of the items on the floor, gives me a great opportunity to show off my butt crack thanks to the popular low waisted jean styles of today (about which one of my pals commented, “maybe that is why the working class wears such unfashionable clothing.” she may have a point). but paint sales have risen in the past month…

today the paint department, tomorrow the entire store. next week, the world. muah-hah-hah.

i don’t know what it is about being on the verge of a season change that inspires me to clean. just as winter is begrudgingly winding down and giving way to the coming of warmer climes, i have the strongest urge to bust out the pink rubber gloves. so, of course, it follows that i have a Spring Cleaning Procedure that includes, but is not limited to, major household restoration, closet purging, clothes swapping, cobweb scouring, family haircutting, colon cleansing, officially changing the sheets from flannel to cotton, and intense personal grooming. i do all this by employing a completely anal retentive organizational strategy that verges on pathological which covers every nook and cranny of my life – hell i even cleared out the voice mail box on my cell and y’all know how much i hate to do that.

after scrubbing my house all sparkly clean from top to bottom with earth un-friendly cleaning products, and purging the house of enough stuff to fill 17 contractor size trash bags which will sit in landfills for the next millennium, it is time for the official Changing Of The Closets (if you are lucky enough to have several closets all to yourself. in my case it is the Changing Of The Giant Tupperware Containers. or for those of you that watch late night infomercials, The Changing Of The Space Bags. none of this to be confused with The Changing Of The Guard).  and it absolutely never fails that every year i suffer from premature closetation. this is a yearly condition in which i become convinced that the unseasonably warm weather (98 degrees for 3 days in march) is here to stay and i eject the winter clothes from my closet, put all the coats into long term storage and take out the flip flops in time for the last record breaking noreaster of the season (i guess i am just a hopelessly thermometer half full person). after i dump every single last item out of my closet and clean the shelves, i force myself to survey the damage i have done to my summer body by hibernating and drinking vodka (just to keep warm) for 4 months. yes, it’s time to face The Winter Blubber for The Trying On Of The Summer Clothes. i look at all those cute little dresses and capris tucked neatly away in the dusty containers and can’t imagine those tiny things fit a mere 12 months ago. there is also the category of clothes called “I Can’t Believe I Wore That Last Year” in which i gasp in horror at some seriously hideous pieces of clothing that i thought were So Cool At The Time. soon, disgust ensues, and i just start getting rid of everything without prejudice. this, of course, has the hidden benefit of making more room in my closet for new stuff which means it’s time to go spring shopping (because lord knows i am completely seasonally unprepared since i really can’t deal with the summer clothes when they show up in nordstrom in the dead of winter). but worst of all is the knowledge that my Sworn Nemesis, Bikini Season, is not far behind, and, i, nor any other self respecting woman who has not honored her personal commitment to start working out in january to avoid the terror of this very situation, is not even looking at those swim suits until forced. we will just order new ones and shove the other ones under the bed til next year (yeah, i said order -i am not facing that fear of actually trying them on at the store. puh-leeze). The Official Wardrobe Change also encompasses two of my all time favorite wardrobing activities- the Switching of the Shoes and Cute Little Jackets Round Up.

like a squirrel hoarding nuts, i store up fabulous warm weather shoes all winter – and there is nothing like a fresh pedi to show ‘em all off. now, i personally get pedified all year round, but you know spring has truly arrived here when you show up to your favorite foot palace one day where there is nary a wait all winter and every pedi chair in the joint has a fat ass in it already in the process of obtaining perfectly manicured hooves. i can barely wait my turn because i am salivating to get back home and shed the protective footwear boxes to unsheath those new killer sandals, wedges, flip flops, & “going out shoes.” nothing makes a girl feel sexier than perfectly painted piggies and a pair of brand new open toed f-me pumps (are we not all suckers for a guy who tells us how gotdang fabulous our shoes are?). next are my Cute Little Jackets – they come out to play for a very small window of time: that nanosecond when it’s cool enough to need a light jacket but too warm for a real coat. i buy these darlings obsessively all fall & winter imagining all the adorable get-ups i will be seen in come spring and then only actually wear 10 per cent of them if i am lucky before the weather gets too warm (i am also lucky if i can even button them after the winter. because i bought them months earlier while saying, “it will def fit by spring since i will have lost this last 5 lbs by then.” okay, fine…10).  and those of us with children get to do all of this closetation for our kids too, but it is not nearly as fun as we learn that all those clothes we saved for Next Summer now fit nobody because the tots, unlike the grass, grew like crazy all winter. then we have to go out and spend a ton of money on new clothes for them anyway. totally not as cool as spending money on new spring shoes and purses – but hey, it’s still shopping. and shopping is always good.

and i clean up not only my home this time of year, but the loose ends in my life too – case in point: emancipating the bf. what seemed like a great comfort during the lazy hibernation of winter, suddenly seemed suffocating on the cusp of spring. it was time to shed that heavy winter coat and trade it in for the feeling of freedom that only the warm weather can bring (and truth finally be told, i just couldn’t be bothered to fake one more orgasm. it was becoming entirely too exhausting). it sure ain’t easy to clean out the cobwebs of your life, but it has to be done every so often. i once had a friend who called it “weeding her garden” (which i thought was a great analogy until i became one of those so called weeds). i too used to cull my address book (back when we had such things during the flinstonian era of my youth before pen & paper gave way to email & blackberries) and remove the entries of people to whom i no longer spoke. now i go through my cell phone, email, and facebook page to update (nice way of saying delete) my contacts- those people formerly known as friends (used to be you just stopped speaking to someone when you broke up and then screened their calls; now you “defriend” them on facebook). and i do it not to make a statement to the person. it’s just part of my spring cleaning. because along with the peace i find by cleaning off the months of dirt and grime from my floors and purging unused physical possessions from the junk drawers, i also find well being by permitting myself to let go of relationships that i no longer need to hold on to.

so, yes, i feel deliciously accomplished: my house & my psyche (and my colon) are totally clean and ready for spring and it’s myriad of possibilities.

got my shoes already picked out…

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