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Furious Bits - January 2007

I want my, I want my, I want my Mtv

January 30th 2007 17:54
The other day, we attended a birthday party for our niece, who turned sixteen. Usually, at times like this is when the adults like to get together and wax poetic about the "good ole days". I don't know if it's seeing the youthful carefree ways of the kids or what. Since turning 30, I've noticed that I am doing this much more. The world is such a different place since I was a kid. I'm sure everyone feels this way, but damn, we can't let our kids walk the streets anymore in this day and age. To send them to school is scary in itself. Kids aren't held accountable for their actions. Someone told a story about the principle calling a parent, and saying "I watched XXX walk out the door, down the steps and she just left school property" When I was in school, you couldn't leave school, without Shirley the security guard hasseling you. She didn't care if you were giving birth, you better have a note saying you had permission, or your mom better be picking your ass up. If you wanted to leave, you had the bribe the security guard in the BACK of the school. You had to promise to bring him a Jumbo Jack later in the day. If the principle SAW you leaving, he would get up, get out of his office, and chase your ass down. But, becuase of the litigous nature of our society, this is against the rules, becuase heaven forbid the child HAD permission, and you chased after her, and she mistook your CARING for sexual harrasment, then you got her mama all up in your grill yelling at you about scaring her baby.


Since the schools hands are tied, they make big issues about little things. Like a five yr old pinching another five yr old on the butt and being suspended for two months for sexual harrassment. Or someone brought a tiny plastic gun to school from his GI toy. On the flip of THIS, when we were in school, people were more lenient on shit, that you know, DIDN'T fucking matter!


Anyway, I am going somewhere with this. The other night I was perusing Youtube, the bestest fucking internets invention like ever, and I found a video for "Crazy" by Gnarlz Barkly. I got to thinking... "Wow, I haven't seen a video, an actual music video in probably a year, maybe even pushing two" Mtv and VH1? They don't show videos, a staple in my tv diet as a teen. They do SHOWS now. Videos? What's that. Come on, how many Real World/Road Rules challenges do we need to watch? Now, even that show isn't about the challenges as much as it is about the sex and the debauchery, the dialogue so riddled with bleeps, the dog next door is have a seizure.

So, feeling a bit of nostalgia creeping in my soul, I watched the video. This video was so beautiful, that I had to play it again for Tony, and probably watched it four more times that night. All I have to say is, I miss music videos. GOOD music videos. Fuck, Good music!! I am far from a music snob, I probably love Fergie way more than a woman my age should, but I admit, I'm tired of hearing whiny, skinny men singing in fake british accents, I'm tired of hearing about the bling, and the cars. I'm tired of Beyonce, I'm tired of Akon. Where is THIS generations Janice Joplin? Their Nirvana? Their Metalica? Their Whitney?

And WHERE ARE THE FUCKING VIDEOS??

So, my new thing when go poop is to watch videos. So far two have stuck out as goodies. Gnarlz Barkly with Crazy and Fergie's Fergelicious. (I told you, I like her too much)

Crazy is just visually beautiful, and unlike anything I've ever seen. It's soothing, and brings the song in a complete circle, a perfect compliment to the lyrics without being too literal.



And Fergie of course. How can you NOT dance to this song, and then, and then, the video is just so freaking awesome!! (I am going to MAKE YOU WATCH THIS VIDEO TERI!! )



Enjoy!
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I Am....

January 29th 2007 16:20
There is a writing contest that was posted on one of my message boards by the sister of the women that does this site Owlhaven and I decided to give it a try. This was the first time to the site, and it's really good. Check it out!

I am the baby born in Chun Chon, South Korea (that would be the “good” side of Korea, not the “bad”) via c-section in a cold, stone operating room to first time parents, an American soldier, Burton and his new Korean wife, Miss Ann.
Who cried so much that my dad crashed his bicycle into a truck from lack of sleep, and who made the journey from Korea to America with just my mom, and once we got here, I was the only one my mom could talk to.
I am the child who played Barbies way past the acceptable age, who loved playing video games even if I wasn’t very good, and playing pick on the little sister, I was really good at that. Who loved reading anything I could get my hands on, getting lost in the world presented before me, and the Cosby show, where I wanted to be Denise so bad. I loved her restrained rebellion.
Who stored every bit of junk I found interesting, much to my mother’s dismay in my treasure box.
Who dreamed of talking animals and riding a unicorn on a rainbow and never thought she would be able to ever find her voice in life and get over her crushing shyness.
I am the teenager who was lucky enough to find the man of her dreams at the ripe old age of fifteen. When you know, you know and I say go with it, despite your age.
Who wore a military uniform to school everyday, which hid the individual within, and loved being anywhere away from my parents and hated life in general when away from my boyfriend.
Who snuck out of the house on a regular basis, rolling my car down the hill we lived on and starting it down the street, and then who snuck her boyfriend in the house if that didn’t work. Who dreamed of getting out and on her own and knew when she did, she would be ok
I am the woman who married her high school sweetheart, and moved away with him from all her family and friends, like her mother did before her. Who loves her husband and her two beautiful kids and her coffee to keep up with the first two.

I am the mother who loves playing on my computer, chatting with friends, blogging, being on my message boards, and playing Sims 2, and goes crazy if I am far from the internet for to long, as pathetic as that sounds,
and whose moments of perfect bliss come when snuggling my "babies” (ages 3 and 7) and smelling their sweet scent.
I am the stay at home mom, who loves waking up to a new day, open to all possibilities and avoids housework like the plague and who enjoys being a stay at home mom more than she thought she ever would
I am the woman who loves to crack a good joke, a scathing burn, or a funny turn of phrase to make people laugh, and who derives probably too much in doing so.
I am the person who suffered from depression for to long and then finally got help after things got too much to bear. Life has been amazing since.
I am the woman who still loves reading, and stuffed animals, but would never buy one for herself, but secretly wishes others would.
Who still longs to learn what makes her special from everyone else.
I am the person who dreams of accomplishments and accolades and is grateful for friends, even if they’re inside my little laptop
and who hopes that life keeps getting better and better with each passing year since I am still learning to enjoy it.
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Coffee and a side of boobies, please

January 26th 2007 18:36
Tony finds immense comfort in my breasts. Whenever he is stressed, all I have to do is lift my shirt, and let him fondle the sweater puppies. He never does it in an over sexual way, he just cups and nuzzles and motor boats on occasion.

I am almost jealous that he derives so much comfort from the twins. I mean, they hang from MY body, yet they only cause me pain and misery if I'm not ignoring them completely. Ever tried to find a bra to cover a double D set of hooters? Not easy, and NOT cheap. Ever tried to wash the dishes holding up a massive set of twin peaks? Better get a back support, like those workers at Wal Mart wear to lift heavy boxes.

Yet, for Tony, my ta-ta's are quite literally his soft place to fall. He's not even mature about it. He sees them, cups them and says "I like da boobies" And he does. At night he loves nothing more than for me to press them to his back. He says it feels good, and that it makes him feel comforted. I need to ask his mom if he was breastfed.

Really though, isn't that what the girls are for? They're for feeding our children, for comfort. A big ole bossom is there to lay your head on, to cry your tears on, to cleave to in your time of need.

That's why I don't get a woman's need to have breast implants. Even if your mommy muffins are small, they are still a source of comfort and nurturing to your family or furture family. We overly sexualize the breast in our early life. As young girls, we can't wait to get them, as a young twenty something, we wear anything or nothing to show them off. Perfect form and roundness, and pert teeny nipples, poking through your shirt ever so sensually, even if they're smaller than usual. When you go and get implants, you take away the softness of the natural breast, you may not be able to breastfeed your future children, and you look kind of silly on top of that. I've never heard a man say "I love a pair of big ole fake balloon titties" Then again, I've neve been to Los Angeles either.

Even though my boobs are large, and hang down to my navel, they're a special part of my family. My kids love to lay on my chest while I read a book, it offers a nice pillow like consistency, when they're crying, they bury their face in my chest and cry over the tragedies of skinned knees and toys gone unshared. My husband gets both erotic pleasure, and comfort from them.

Our world revolves around MY boobs.

It's nice to have a legacy.
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Today I went to my second Weight Watchers meeting. The last time I went in the evening, where the room was filled with stay at home moms like me, young professionals, middle aged moms (and a dad) and a few older people. The meeting was as expected, cut and dry, and to the point. We sat, we listened, we went home. Good enough for me.

Today, I decided to go in the morning at 8 am. Tony had to get our taxes done, and since he didn't have the appointment until 9:15 I decided to just suck it up and go in the morning. Plus, I would weigh less since I wouldn't have a whole days worth of food in my stomach


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Probably the most annoying thing about being a mom is that nothing you have is sacred. NOTHING. From your coffee, to your shoes, to your fucking vibrator. Nothing has escaped the touch of tiny, sticky fingers.

Oh to live the life of a child, be able to unencumbered with such things as manners, and thougtfulness. To live your life doing whatever pleases you, spinning around until you vomit, or drinking your mothers ONE precious yogurt fruit smoothie. The one thing that is low in Weight Watcher points, and doesn't taste like ass. Or to drink the special coffee she treated herself with. When you asked her for a drink, and then drank half of it, chugging it down your greedy lttle throat like a wino with a bottle of White Lightning


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It's a good feeling to know you are done with having children. Sure, my heart still gives a twinge when I see a baby and I know I'll never carry another child in my stomach. That is such a special bond between mother and child. (duh right?) When I look at my soon to be seven year old, I jsut can not believe that I carried her in my tummy for 37 long weeks. That once she was just a small little thing that sqalled everytime I set her chunky butt down. It's no secret that Aislinn was/is what is called a "high needs" child, or if you're feeling especially giving, a s"spirited child" if she's just screamed at you, and stomped off to her room,, slamming the door along the way, you would call her an asshole. Lord knows I do.

I saw something very interesting on Tv the other day. Dr. Phil had the Sears family on. The dad, the original Dr. Sears, his two sons who are also pediatricians, and either his daughter or his wife or someone who is a nurse. For those of you who don't know, Dr. Sears is the leading expert in what is called "Attatchment parenting" or AP. Attatchement parenting is a way of parenting that is more gentle. A lot of times, APers will wear baby in various slings. They usually breastfeed, unless an extreme circumstance occur, not allowing them to do so. They usually use gentle disclipine, which means they don't whack their kid for every infractions. They believe iin the family bed


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Busy week.

January 22nd 2007 21:02
Even though my living room looks like Thomas the Train barfed up the Island of Sodor on my floor, here I sit. I sit chatting with Teri, who reminded me that I had a blog, I know, I know I do, but Tony has been really really nice lately, so you know, I don't have anything to write about.

I'm just sitting here. I decided to just sit here and relax. It seems like life has given me a lot to deal with this last week. From chapped lips, new diet, diabetes, potty training and an oncoming birthday party, life as been hectic. The funny thing, the chapped lips has taken up most of my time. Between me and Tony we'v bought six tubes of chapstick in the last week


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Here's a little tip boys. If your woman says "Hey you know later, I'd like to have some sex" DON'T go and you know, play video games all night, and then putz around with the turtle tank at midnight. You're just asking for trouble. Plus, you're wasting a perfect opportunity to hello, HAVE SEX!! There are guys in China who are starving for snatch and MY husband just throws it away willy nilly. I've just made it to accesible to him. I think I need to start withholding.

I mean, how much more up front to I have to be? I said "TONIGHT I WANT TO HAVE SEX" What else more do I have to do? I know some guys are probably thinking I should have blown him or something, to get his mind of of the game, but come on! I shouldn't have to beg my man should I? Just knowing I wanted to should have been enough to want to do it right


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It always happens that way doesn't it? A simple question asked, turns into a night of squabbling, and a person sleeping on the couch in a fit of anger.

It all started innocently enough. There we were, me and my husband, laying in bed, watching Dr. Phil. I, of course was chatting with some friends of mine on the laptop. Someone brings up how much fun it used to be for she and her husband to get high and have sex. This was quite surprising to me. I've never smoked pot, so I am totally clueless to it's affects. With all the eating and laughing people claim to do while high, sex just doesn't seem like it would be a high priority after tokin' up


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Kickin' it Colonial Style!

January 13th 2007 21:34
We had yet another power outtage. I must say this is getting QUITE ridiculous!! Anyway, the power went out early this morning. Did you know that if it's to quiet, you can't sleep very well? I found this out last night. No matter how hard I tried, the quiet was deafening. I never realized how LOUD our house is, even at night. Tony has his box fan on, I have my sleep machine, the fish and turtle tank is always a gurgling away.

We decided we were going to "tough it out" here at home all day. Mainly becuase we could see the workers trying to fix whatever the problem was. The people across from us had power, and my mom who lives a few blocks away did too. So, we knew it wasn't that big of a problem


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So, I'm a little irked at my mom. Just a little. I think everyone knows by now that my basis on whether or not the complaint is valid is that if it irks me while on anti depressants, I take it for what it is. I know she didn't mean anything BY it, and I know that everyone has their opinions, but sometimes, sometimes, I think people should just not say anything you know? What probably irks me the MOST, is that now that she's said something, I can see where she is coming from, and I've lost my luster for the object in question.

So, what is the object in question? My living room rug. I know. Completely petty right? But, but! I can't help it! I liked my rug until she said something, and fuck it all, if she's not kinda right


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Diabolical diabetes.

January 11th 2007 19:14
I had every intention of writing SOMETHING today. I made the mistake though of trying to do it in my room, where my son is sitting here getting Noggin-ized. Right now its teh WONDER PETS!! and I can't help but watch the show. The songs are catchy!! And that Ming Ming. What a cutie.

Ok, sorry, I am writing for the adult audience right? So, I'll talk about taxes and wrinkles and fiber


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This time of year I'm always hit with the "They're getting so big" blues. My kids have their birthdays relatively close to each other, Jonny in Jan, and Ais in Feb. Even though they';re still small, the time has flown so fast, I can't help but be sad that they'll be big soon. Even though I had to drag both of them out of the mall wailing yesterday, it still makes me sad to have them grow, and if I could I'd keep them small forever.

The other day I tried putting underwear on Jonny. Even though he peed in two pair, and is obviously NOT on the way to leaving the toilet seat up so I can fall in it, I still got a little teary seeing his little toddler booty in a pair of "big boy" underwear (even if they had creepy Thomas on the butt) It got me thinking about washing big boy undies later in life, and finding little suprises in them, both front and back. How I'd probably not even want to touch them, but being the one with the breasts I probably would have to, until another person with breasts takes over for me


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The best thing about being coupled is the sex. I don't care what anyone says, sex with a partner that knows all your spots and weaknesses is the only way to go. Not that I have a lot of experience in the one night stand department. Ok, I have NO experience in that department. But, all I know is I went to bed last night with a smile on my face. Did you?


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Today I found out I was MORBIDLY obese. The way I typed the word is how it seems to sound in my head whenever I hear it. Mega super sized emphasis on MORBIDLY .

The definition of being MORBIDLY obese is being a hundred lbs over your "ideal" weight. Ideal is quoted and I'm saying it very sarcasticly in my head. If I knew how to type in a sarcastic way, I would type "ideal" in that fashion


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The difference between men and women.

January 8th 2007 03:18
When a man gets a headacheHe boohoos about it, lays down, and rests on the couch after taking a Motrin, as if he can't possible function any longer. This is after playing Playstation for two hours. (probably what gave him the headache to begin with)

Even though the woman has pretty much the same headache she gives the kids a bath, throws in a load of laundry, gets dishes done, and gets kitchen set up for some baking she nneds to get done that night. This is AFTER going to the grocery store and preparing a homemade lasagna for six people and serving everyone


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Pathetic Woman or Good Wife?

January 6th 2007 19:02
I sometimes wonder if I'm to attatched to my husband. This all came about when I got a phone call from my sister. She was telling me about what she assumed was a girls night out she was planning on attending last night. She found out that one of the girls there was bringing her boyfriend, and this perplexed my sister. I saw where she was coming from, as she thought it was a girls night out, and agreed with her that it would be awkward etc. (Hi Michelle!! )

After hanging up, I continued my grocery shopping and got to thinking about some of the things she said. I wondered if I was like that girl. It's not that I can't live without Tony, Lord knows I've done plenty of that, being a military wife and all, but if given the preference I like to be with him


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I haven't really had much to write about these last few days. Nothing new or exciting has happened and I've lost all creativity with having both kids home and yelling... a lot. Once things quiet down next week, I'm hoping to have a some time to I don't know think about something other than which is better at cleaning up spills, paper towel or Tony's shirt, or is it REALLY illegal to lock children in their rooms? I mean REALLY? Does that count during school breaks? Wouldn't a judge pardon me if I just said "It was school break your Honor"

Right now, someone is downstairs banging on something, really, really loudly


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