Well, we *finally* got the keys to our new house today. I just went over there with my ma to check things out. What a high! That place is soooooo huge. I'm disappointed we won't be getting to paint and things before we move in, but there's enough room that we can just move out of whatever room we need to fix for a couple of days whenever we get a chance to work on it. It's that big. Seriously. Anyway, I oughta go pack some stuff.....

The Top Ten Worst Days of My Life...

1. Getting In a Car Wreck, Age 3
2. Getting In a Car Wreck, Age 8
3. Getting In a Car Wreck, Age 17
4. Getting Molested, Age 11
5. Getting Date-Raped, Age 14
6. Launching Self From Moving Car, Age 16
7. Mom's Icky Boyfriend is Moving In, Age 15
8. Mom's Icky Boyfriend is In My Closet, Age 16
9. Breaking Up With Eli, age 16
10. My Dad Almost Dies While I'm 300 Miles Away, age 15
11. The Trip With Eli Where We Went To Michigan to See Sloan and He Got Punched In The Face By Some Drunk Canadian And Had To Go To The Emergency Room, and We Never Did Get To See Sloan, And Then We Made A Wrong Turn On The Way Home And Almost Ended Up In Indiana, Age 16
12. There Is A Misunderstanding About Me Having Sex Or Saying That I Had Sex With Tim, and My Very Best Friend Decides She Hates Me When I In Fact Did Nothing Wrong, Age 16
13. My First Stepdad, Kevin, Kicks In My Bedroom Door, Age 11
14. My Mom Comes To School To Tell Me My Dad Moved Out and Today We Are Moving In With Grandma and Grandpa, Age 7
15. My Mom And I Are Driving And She Tells Me She Is Pregnant With a Baby That Is Not My Dad's, Age 7
16. My Mom Hates Me And Says I Am Abandoning Her Because I Move Out Of Her Abusive Household, Age 18
17. I Do Not Get The Part I Deserve In The School Musical Because Another Girl Is Prettier Than Me, Age 17
18. My Choir Teacher Soon After Is Fired For Coming On To A Girl, Age 17
19. Took a Pee Test and Found Out I Was Pregnant, Age 15
20. Got My Period and Was No Longer Pregnant, Age 15
21. Got Grounded From Church Because I Did Not Unload The Dryer; Subsequently Tried To Stab Myself to Death With a Kitchen Knife, Age 17
22. Went To Therapy For The First Time, Age 22
23. John and I Almost Break Up, Age 21
24. John's Mother Tells Us Our Friend Chad Morrow Has Died, Age 19
25. I Find Out From John's 15-Year-Old Brother That My Best Friend Is Pregnant And Did Not Tell Me, Age 20
26. Big Fight With John Followed By Stressful Day At Mall Getting Bad Pictures Taken, Age 22
27. At Alicia Weisenberger's Slumber Party, a Large Wooden Block Is Thrown At My Head And I Must Act As If It Does Not Hurt, Age 13
28. I Do Not Get Into Pops Ensemble, Age 14
29. My Friend Kimberly Dies Of Leukemia, And I Do Not Get To Say Goodbye, Age 8
30. Andrea Lortcher, Dee Smith, and Jill Sowders Pick On Me and Threaten To Beat Me Up For No Reason Other Than That I Am A Lonely, Scared, and Ugly Fifth Grader, Age 10

Those are just the ones that really stand out....

Sucks. I'm sooooo tired. I went to bed two and a half hours ago, but got up at 12:30, because obviously, I was still awake. I HATE that, because it's like, I completely wasted SO much time. I wasn't sleeping, and I wasn't getting anything done either... hey, kinda like now! Well, whaddaya know. I want to go eat some Chocula, but I'm not sure if it's cause I'm hungry, or just cause I'm depressed. There is sooooo much to do this week... yesterday we went to get Tristan's pictures done, which was almost a total bust. Even though they usually manage to fuck *something* up, and you never get in until at LEAST a half-hour after your appointment, I chose to again give The Picture People my business. I'm sure you can already figure out where this is going, can't you? There is this really, REALLY weird lady who works there. She kind of seems mentally challenged in some way, she's loud and has some kind of weird speech impediment thing where you can barely understand her (not to mention her voice is nails-on-the-chalkboard cloying [okay, so nails on the chalkboard don't bother me personally in the least - it's a good analogy, anyway] ), and - the MOST ANNOYING THING - she calls every female "Mom".

That's right, when me and John went in a few years ago to have "couple pictures" done, I heard a lady who kept saying "Okay, Mom, now if you could just come over here and fill this out, MOM, Oh hang on MOM, we're very busy, MOM." At first I thought she was talking to her OWN mother, then I was like, Oh, I get it - she's talking to the Mom of the group, you know, like "Dad, sit over here, Mom, stand next to him, Kids, you sit on the floor in front of them." I can handle that, I thought. That's somewhat normal. But then I went up to the desk to ask how much longer it would be, as we'd already been waiting for an hour, and she said....... "JUST A MINUTE, MOM, AND I'LL GO SEE, OK, MOM?!?" I was dumbfounded. Did I *look* like a mom? Was someone else's kid hanging onto my leg? Is there a head hanging out of my skirt? ...... Anyway, she didn't photograph us that day (which, did I mention, was the SECOND time we had been there in two weeks, because the first set of pictures we had done was COMPLETELY out of focus?!), this really pretty young chick did. But, her pictures were boring and sucked. The first time we went, the chick did all kinds of Fun Christmas Poses, with Santa hats and fake presents and so much mistletoe. This time, when we had Miss Stephy, she was like, okay, you sit here and he sits there. *SNAP* Okay, now switch places... *SNAP* Great. Now, go back the way you were before. *SNAP* I'm exaggerating a bit - she IS, after all, the one responsible for our famous "piggyback-ride photo" - but anyway, I was not too impressed. Fast forward a year or so... we take our 6-week-old kid to get his first pictures. *Please please please don't let us get the annoying lady* "OKAY, MOM, YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND GO IN THE BIG ROOM IN THE BACK! I'LL BE RIGHT IN, MOM!" But man, that woman took one HELL of a picture. Or five of them, to be exact. Set us back almost $200.

Which brings me to yesterday. Tristan was being a big crank for some reason, and John and I were both incredibly stressed out due to a combination of no sleep + fighting all weekend. And who do we get for our photographer? Why, it's PRINCESS STEPHY! She of the pleasant demeanor and the boring, boring photo. And she certainly did prove herself... she did four "different" shots of Tristan laying in a beanbag chair. I use the term "different" very loosely, as the only thing different about each pose was his outfit and the color of the blanket on the beanbag chair. When she pulled down the hideous fake-clouds background, I wanted to cry right then and there. Tristybean finally chilled out toward the end, and there was a cute shot of his face while his daddy was ticklin' his toeses. Then we did a family pic, and went to walk around the mall. That was fun - I bought Tristan a few things and John didn't even yell at me. Woo! Anyway, long story short (hahaha, right), we went back to the picture place, there was only one good shot, and NO family picture. I'm like, um, we had a family picture done, where is it? So the chick who brought out our pictures goes up to the desk and all quiet-like goes, "Ummm, do you know what happened with their family picture?" And LoudMouth CuntWhore in the Technicolor Dream-Beanie goes, "OH, THAT WAS THE ONE WHERE IT WAS THE END OF THE ROLL AND IT DIDN'T COME OUT!" I am like, "what", just totally dead-on serious because I am SO pissed, this is like in the top 5 worst days of my life. Well, maybe not, I'll try those at the end... So real loud I say, "Well, that really sucks" and LMCH says (shouts),"IT'S NOT THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S FAULT, SHE HAS NO WAY OF KNOWING WHEN THE ROLL IS GOING TO END" I'm like, "well, that doesn't make me feel any better!" Jesus Christ, is this ROCKET SCIENCE? I don't know what kind of fancy-ass cameras they're using, but I know when I'm out of film, my little Advantix camera sure does let me know. Hell, even the 110 I had when I was a kid would stop when the roll was done. So anyway, I got a coupon for next time. Fortunately, the one photo that did come out is SUPER adorable...

Click here to see the picture that made the day worthwhile...

Oh, just one more thing. What is it with celebrities changing the PRONUNCIATION of their names? Kirsten Dunst used to be "Ker-sten Dunst," which makes perfect sense, as that is clearly the way her name is spelled. But now that she's grown up, all of a sudden she's KEER-stin. Kierstin. Then there's Ah-lee-shah Silverstone, oh wait, I mean AH-LEE-SEE-AH. Give me a break, sweetie, your name's Alicia, deal with it. If your mom wanted to call you Ahleeseeah, don't you think that would have been your name? And don't even get me started on De-MEE Moore. And the kid from Malcolm in the Middle (By the way, folks: Malcolm should ALWAYS have two L's. "Malcom" looks like a retard filled out the birth certificate. Which, if you are in fact a retard, is perfectly acceptable.) - is he Frankie MOO-nyiz or Frankie MYOO-niz? Nobody seems to know. And who names their poor kid Frankie, anyway?

So I have nothing to do except this. Okay, actually that's a big fat lie: I have SO much to do that I'm avoiding all responsibility by coming on here and typing shit. Woo! We're supposed to be moving next weekend, but we don't have the keys to the new place yet, and I want to get in there and paint and stuff... the lady we're supposed to be renting from is REALLY trying to get us to buy the house, which we would do if we could afford it. But we can't. It's making me nervous because I'm really afraid she is going to decide not to rent it after all, and then we'll be screwed. I guess I shouldn't worry, as that is completely outside the realm of my control, but still.

So this weekend was way big. We went to like 20 stores on Saturday *and* visited John's Granny, then on Sunday I threw a baby shower for my friend Stacey. It was rawkin. She got all kinds of cute little girl clothes!! There was this one really bitchy fat lady there, though - I believe she was a relative of the grandma-in-law - and she kept complaning because she wasn't winning any of the games, then when she won one, she was complaining because everyone could only get one prize. Like, hello, what are you, fifty? And you're mad because EVERYONE gets one prize before anyone gets two? As I have said before, GROW THE FUCK UP! Then she was bitching during the Bingo game, because we declared that a romper and a sleeper were NOT the same thing, and WHY HASN'T SHE OPENED UP ANY BOTTLES? Jeez, lady, if you're that desperate to get a bunch of crap from the dollar store, here's a fiver on me, just DROP OFF YOUR PRESENT AND GET THE HELL OUT! (Not that my prizes were crap, I'm just saying....) The only other big disappointment was that everyone started leaving after the gift they personally brought was opened, and they left out the back door, and I forgot to tell them all to take one of the favors John and I so meticulously assembled at 3 o'clock that morning, so I had about 20 extra packets of Baby Shower Shower Gel. You should see them. They're darling.

And I haven't done anything I need to do. We SO need to get our taxes done, and I needed to get Tristan's pictures taken before Easter, because it's going to look REALLY stupid to give out bunny-suit photos the following week. I guess I don't have to clean the house now cause we're just going to pick up the mess and dump it off in the other house, LOLOL. But a clean coffee mug would be nice, as I burned the piss out of my hand on this Solo cup. And I would love to be able to go to Tristan's shelf and from it pluck a burp cloth, instead of running to the dryer with spitup running down my arm, ya know?

So if I like the Baby Gap stuff with the chicks on it better than the stuff with the cars, will people think that I'm a bad mother? That my child is going to be gay? I hate all the boy crap with trucks and trains and sports bullshit on them. I mean, some of it can be good, when tastefully done, but some of it so overtly "LOOK MY KID IS A BOY A BOY A BOY" that I just want to slap the mullet-sporting Budweiser-shirt-wearing corporal-punishment-using parents who put their poor kids in it. Anyway, I think it's okay - no, I think it's SUPER - for my kid to wear clothes with chicks and bunnies on them. He's a BABY. And it'll be okay for him to play with dollies, too. And if he wants trucks, obviously, he can have trucks, too, but I'm not going to buy him a 2.99 sweatshirt at Ames that says "TRUCKS RULE" and has one of those jacked-up Broncos with the Truckasaurus tires on it, kicking up dirt, dammit. I'm not white trash. Honest. You gotta believe me. Seriously. For real doh.

So here's the idiotic money-waster for today: At 3 am or so, as I was searching iVillage for some info on how to make your pussy stop hurting after having a baby so you can have some of the sex, I came across a pop-up ad: "Take Our All New In-Depth IQ Test!" Now, we already discussed how I'm a total masochist when it comes to things that purport to reveal little known secrets about the REAL me, so I happily took the "free" test. It said I had an IQ of 143 (the highest score you could get and still be considered "highly intelligent" or something like that, which of course led me to consider re-taking the darn thing, until I realized I'd surely do worse next time) and that I could order my DETAILED REPORT, outlining ALL of my personal strengths and weaknesses, with NEAT BAR GRAPHS, for the low low price of just $9.95!!! I thought maybe I'd come back and do the whole thing again later, especially since I was deliriously tired and probably didn't do my best. Then I thought, that is SO COOL, I want to see mine!! But John will be so mad at me!! For spending $10 on this crap!! But wait!! At least it's not porn!! YEAH!! You can see my results here. I don't know how long they'll be available before I have to pay another ten bucks, so you'd better go check them out. I was really surprised, as I thought I had GOOD intuition and POOR spatial skills. Maybe they gave me the wrong profile...

In other news: Also spent money on a couple of really cute and super cool Cabbage Patch Kids storybooks at this new dollar store. I can't link to them because I can't find them anywhere online, but they are SO COOL. For any Cabbie-oriented folk who might be reading this, they have photos of Kids from the Coleco Designer and Transitional lines all the way thru the first or second edition Mattel kids. The back covers say there are two more books in the series - I think I may have found my latest quest...

Oh, and I got the orange sweatpants and blue shoes I needed to go with Tristan's Old Navy shirt that has the planets on it, and GLOWS IN THE DARK, which I did not know! Fuck Yeah! My kid's a space cadet!! WOO!

You know what I bet would be really, really good? Crunchy cat food with, like, tuna-flavored marshmallows. Know what is really, really good? This bowl of Count Chocula I'm eating. It's amazing what you think of when you don't sleep at night....

So I was just checking out the newly-updated blogs, and came across some guy's post about this Colorgenics personality test. Well, everybody loves a personality test, and lord knows I'm a masochist, so I decided to take it. You look at eight lovely rotating 3-D cubes, each a different color, and pick the ones you are most "in harmony with". (It's a little new-agey, with generic Enya-style music playing in the background. I recommend doing this in a completely darkened room. Very, how you say, Zen?) Anyway, here's what my color choices revealed about me:

You are striving for a life full of activity and experience, and perhaps what is even more, an environment where you would be able to forge a close bond with a person who can offer full emotional fulfilment.

Rejection is a core element in your present lifestyle. This fear of rejection has created a shield around you that makes you unapproachable. You are looking for approval and acknowledgement, but above all you are looking for people who can appreciate you for who and what you are.

The present situation, not of your making, is forcing you to compromise. You will have to hold back and forgo some of your hopes, dreams and aspirations...

You pretend that you are a carefree individual and that nothing really bothers you .. that you are so self-sufficient that whatever problems beset you - they simply flow off you as water flows of a ducks back... You are experiencing considerable stress, trying to conceal yourself from the rest of the world. In actual fact - deep down, you are not at all happy. You feel lonely and you need someone with whom you can "Let your hair down" and share your hopes, dreams and high standards... You are imposing unnecessary self restraint on yourself. You would like to demonstrate the unique quality of your character to all and sundry.

Whatever you have tried to do seems to have gone wrong and you are now quite convinced that there is little point of formulating new objectives and it is this belief that has resulted in the stress and anxiety. You would like to be able to communicate with other people who think as you do. At this time there seems to be no-one on the horizon nor is there any prospect of meeting anyone in the immediate future. But it must be said that you are really a "trier" and indications are that you will .... as indeed you have in the past "bounce back".

Huh.

So I'm going to start actually *using* this here blog. Amazing, eh? Here's a little rundown on the current state of affairs: The baby is sleeping. I'm addicted to this Hazelnut coffee creamer (contains no actual cream) that I got yesterday in another one of my Oh-God-I'm-Hungry-Let's-Buy-It-All grocery shopping binges. And I can't stop eating this Cadbury's Dairy Milk bar that I was supposed to be making chocolate covered strawberries in. It isn't the pregnancy that makes you fat, it's all the delicious treats you have to consume in order to maintain your sanity once the baby has arrived, I think. Oh, and we might be getting a house! Not to buy, still just to rent, but it's TONS bigger than this ratty stankhole and not too much more expensive!! I could have a doll room! WOO! And, I could have more babies, and there'd be room for them, too! Yay!

In other news: I sent out invitations for my friend's baby shower last week. It's her second baby, but it's a girl this time, so I thought it would be fun to celebrate. Long story short, when I sent the invites, I just addressed them to the eldest woman of the household, AKA "the mom". Well, my friend's sister (who is 22 and still lives at home, so personally I think it is her problem, anyway - if she wants her own damned invitation, why doesn't she try GETTING AN APARTMENT?) called her up and was like, "Oh, I guess I'm not coming to your shower because I wasn't invited. The invitation only had mom's name on it." THIS she says to my poor pregnant mother-of-a-2-year-old-boy friend. Like she doesn't have enough to deal with without people being freaking asses. So then today I hear that the baby's great-gramma, who lives with the baby's father's aunt, tried to pull the same horseshit. Just *how*, I would like to know, do you get to be that old and still be so curiously petty? WHY DOESN'T EVERYBODY JUST GROW THE FUCK UP??

Have you seen that commercial for the bill consolidation place? Yeah, yeah, I know there's a million of 'em, but I'm specifically referring to the one with the guy with the terrible mullet. He like, IS my stepdad. Except cleaner and in a Hawaiian shirt. I hate him. He's all, "We realized that early retirement was JUST NOT AN OPTION! And we needed SURRIOUS PRUFESSHINUL HELP!" Then he walks out of the house with his goofy just-got-laid-I'm-so-cool-I-bet-no-one-can-tell-that-I'm-fifty smile and his hideous ass, gnarly salt-and-pepper mullet. And of course the little thin ponytail part is pulled over his shoulder so you can see it in all its dried-out glory. I guess if I wouldn't watch total crap like Montel every day, I probably wouldn't HAVE to see this commercial, but hey. Whaddaya gonna do?

That's it for now. Hope you're having a great Spring Break.