Handlebar Mustache

I've posted about my separation and future divorce for the last 2 days and wanted to post something funny to lighten things up. I'm sick of my own shit.

My aunt has an adorable dog. She's a long-haired Chihuahua (the dog, not my aunt).

Her name's Prissy. They call her Pissy because whenever anyone comes over, she pees all over the place. But she really is a cutie pie.

When I went to Memphis for my girl's weekend (incidentally, that's the weekend that Bama Ex-Hubs decided to play the field and took pictures of it), I stayed Friday night with my aunt. One of the first things my uncle did was show me the dog's butt. You probably think this is weird, but you have to know my uncle. He's a funny guy. Over the weekend, my aunt was trying to think of a medical thing that my uncle had, and she was wracking her brain trying to figure it out. She said, 'You know, it's that thing you had...what is the name of it?' And he replied 'Gonnorhea?'. He's almost 70, so that shit is funny.

Anyway, another aunt has decided that Prissy has a butt that looks like a handlebar mustache. So my uncle had to show me the handlebar mustache butt. And it totally does look like the dog's sporting a mustache:

This is the dog's butt. And yes, that's my super amazing Paint skills demonstrated there. That's supposed to be a nose and the mustache outlined. But Little Stinker kept messing with my arm. So it doesn't really look like that.

And yes, that's my Aunt, who is in her mid-60's, holding her dog's tail up so her 33 year old niece can take a picture of the butt. I promise, we are adults and we are not mentally unstable. Well, not much at least.

So after I snapped the picture of the butt I wanted to get a picture of her to show you how cute she is. This is the first picture I got.

She looks like Ghost Rider's demon dog. Holy shit, I've never seen a dog look scarier. I don't even think Cujo could compare.

But she really doesn't look like that - she's cute, and I finally got a picture of her cuteness:

So the handlebar mustache butt is even funnier when you see how cute and adorable this dog is.

And I really think they should get some styling product and make her butt look like this:

That wouldn't be the least bit wackadoo.

What a Crunchy Grouchy Girl Wants

For the last 9 years of my life, I have been with a man whom I did actually love. Recently it has come to light that this man is a giant turd.

Now, he is still the father of my children, so I will refrain from speaking too badly about him in a public forum, but if anyone wants to send me a personal message, I will gladly trash-talk him.

Anyway, as I stated, he's a turd. The entire time we've been together, there have been things lacking in our relationship. In the distant future, I would like to have these things with someone else. I have placed a 6 month to a year dating moratorium on myself so that I can get myself in a better place where I'm not bitter and mistrusting. Because right now I'm both of those things, along with angry and hurt. I don't want to put that on any man, as I would not want any man to put that shit on me.

So today I'm going to point out some of the things that were missing in my marriage and highlight how I want to eventually have those things back. So if there are any stalkerific men out there who think they might want to try to woo me in six months to a year, take note.

In my entire marriage, I cannot recall Bama Ex-Hubs ever telling me I was pretty.

Now, I'm not beautiful. Don't get me wrong. I know this about myself. But I also know that if you love someone, even the ugliest person can be beautiful in your eyes. All that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' crap. It's actually true. I may not look like Giselle, but I want someone to look at me the way Tom Brady (and most other men in America) look at her.

In times of my distress, there was no comfort given from my husband.


I'm pretty good at handling crap on my own. I've done it my whole life, I'm a fairly strong person. But just because I'm strong doesn't mean that I don't want someone to hold me when stuff gets hard. And sometimes making really hard decisions that I know need to be made doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt and that I can't cry about it and that you can't hold me while I cry.

Two major things happened last year. First, I had to put my mom in a nursing home. I knew it needed to happen, but that doesn't mean I wanted it to. I was 33 years old (still am, actually), and this is a decision most people my age don't have to face until their 40s or 50s, and certainly not with small children to raise at the same time. It was tough. I cried about it. Second, my brother J died. No, he was not a good person. Yes, he did some terrible things, sometimes even to me. But he was my brother and no matter what he did, I loved him and never wanted to see his misery end in that way. So of course I cried. A lot. Especially because I had to plan everything on my own because my dad was not in any state to do it, my mom's in a nursing home, and my other brother with the same parents was in jail. It was hard. Very, very hard.

Not once during either of those times did my husband voluntarily comfort me. No hugs. No lying there and holding me while I cried on his shoulder. Nothing. I had to ASK him to give me a hug when I left for 5 days to go bury my brother. I flat out told him then that he was lacking some basic human sympathy gene. A perfect stranger at the office where I had my brother declared indigent held me while I cried. The guy at the funeral home when I picked up my brother's ashes and totally lost my shit hugged me. But not my husband.

I want someone to comfort me. It's that simple.

He thought I was a dumbass.

I know that I often disguise this fact with my juvenile sense of humor and basic dumbassery, but I'm fairly smart. I did go to college on a full academic scholarship. I actually went to a high school with 'math and science' in the title. I took the GMAT to get into graduate school for my MBA with never having taken a business course in my entire undergrad and not ever studying for it and did pretty dang good. Good enough to get into a top-tier business school with a psychology/biology degree.

Not trying to brag, just stating facts. I'm not completely stupid. I figure things out fairly well. Obviously I have mad research skillz or I would not have found out what the hubs had been doing.

But if I ever told Bama Ex-Hubs anything, he had to ask someone else to verify. He never trusted anything I said. He honestly thinks I'm really really dumb. The only thing dumb about me was that I was willing to stay with someone who didn't appreciate me. That was dumb.

I want someone who appreciates that I'm not a moron. Yes, I have my moments, as does everyone, but overall I'm fairly smart. I want someone who loves that about me as much as everything else.

He never thought I was funny.

I know, right? How could he not think I'm funny? No, I'm not the funniest person alive. But I'm silly, I'm playful, I like to cut up and I LOVE to laugh. Love it. But if I told a joke, he never laughed (my family thinks it's because he never got my jokes). If I did something silly, he would sometimes actually get mad. And he was never silly with me.

I want someone who has a great sense of humor. Who can be silly with me and my kids and doesn't care what anyone else thinks. I want to be held down and tickled (not in a pervy way). I want someone who wants to laugh and have fun with life as much as I do.

There was no passion.

Except for the not-so-serious part of our relationship (read: before I got preggo), there has never been a lot of passion. And seriously, this changed as soon as I got pregnant and we started living as a couple rather than as a fling. When we were just a fling, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. After we got pregnant, he changed drastically. I mean, obviously we still did it, as I have had 2 more kids, but there was no passion. There was no flirting with each other. I've been in long-term relationships prior to Bama Ex-Hubs, and even though we never had kids, we still wanted to be with each other, if you know what I mean. In our relationship, I was always the one who wanted to participate in the 'being with'. That's hard on a woman's self-esteem.

I want someone who is passionate about me and our life together and who never lets me forget it. Because I promise I'll do the same.

Now, I talk as if our life together was crap. It really wasn't crap, but there were some pretty important aspects that were either missing or lacking. He worked hard and provided for us. He's a good dad. And I did love him. But, it's over now and I need to move on. I'm not a vindictive person by nature, and yes, getting my revenge by posting the girl's picture yesterday made me feel good for a short time, I am not going to dwell on the revenge part. I still have children with this man, and I know what it feels like to be the tug-of-war rope between two parents who hate each other. I will NEVER be that parent and I don't foresee Bama Ex-Hubs being that kind of parent either. So I want everything to be civil and at least polite for the kids.

Hopefully one day both of us will find people who truly make us happy, and our kids will see that and realize how REAL relationships are supposed to be. But there is still a part of me, because this is so new, that hopes that he and his new girlfriend both wind up with some STD. Curable, of course. But an STD nonetheless.

Happy V-Day, Bitches

I just took a blogging break. It wasn't a planned blogging break. It was a break that came about because my husband broke my computer. To keep me from finding some incriminating pictures.

Needless to say, I still found them. And I had to buy a new computer. I have really bad luck with computers.

Anyway, I'm back. And I'm getting a divorce.

I haven't threatened anyone during this process - I'm trying to remain graceful. And by graceful I mean over-sharing everything on Facebook. Not the most mature thing to do, granted, but it's cheaper than therapy. And since I don't currently have a job, I can't afford therapy.

So I have posted some things on Facebook, which Bama Hubs has had spies copy and paste so he can use them against me in court. First off, I believe in Georgia I can sue the mistress, so I doubt he wants to pull that crap. Second off, there are some really REALLY bad pictures that I will use as evidence. I'm not blackmailing him at all, as that would be illegal. I just want a no-fault divorce with a simple custody/visitation agreement. No alimony, just child support. I want this over with as quickly and as pain-free as possible.

You're probably wondering what was SO BAD about what I posted on Facebook.

Well, I DID post a picture of the girl. He swears it wasn't her, but of course he would as he wants to protect her. It is Valentine's Day, I'm pissed off. Again, not the most mature thing. But all of my stuff is private and no one but my friends could have seen it. And boy, did my friends see it. They had some colorful comments. Anyway the picture has since been removed.

Here are some of my status updates:

Here's the first one:

So I guess I'm going to make the official announcement to stop the guessing, lol. I am separated, will soon be divorcing. I'm handling it in the usual way - I wrote the homewrecker's phone number in every men's room in every store I've visited since Saturday.

I did NOT post anything in men's restrooms. Even if I did, no one can prove it.

Here's the 2nd one:

I try not to whine too much. Crap happens to us all. But it seems as though a large amount of crap happens to me. I'm lucky that I have the means to deal with it all, unmedicated, but I'd really like less drama. And I'd also like to meet a hot, single plastic surgeon who'd give me free surgery. And who was totally rich & loves my kids. And who isn't the least bit attracted to skanky hobags.

Wow - I totally should have my kids taken away due to that statement. I'm a horrible mom. And totally at fault for my husband being an ass.

Number 3:

Look, men, if you do something stupid to destroy your marriage, own up to it. Don't blame your wife for going out of town, especially when it was a free flight & a very cheap trip, and when she went out of town to get a short break since the previous year her brother died & she had to handle all the arrangements, and she put her mom in a nursing home. She deserved a break. You get a break.each time you go hunting or spend the entire day watching sports & ignoring your family. You are perfectly capable of taking care of your children for 48 hours. If you get mad, don't give her nookie for a couple of weeks. Don't give your nookie to someone else. And please trade up at least. Don't mess around with a walking carcinoma.

Again, I deserve to go to jail for all those threats I'm making. I'm a REALLY horrible person.

Then I posted the picture. I left it up for about an hour, got a good laugh from what my friends were saying, then I took it down.

Then I posted this:

So, I now feel like I got what I needed to out of my system. Bama Hubs called me a lunatic, and he's right. Being humiliated, having my family torn apart & insulting my intelligence brought out the Alabama crazy. But he's really lucky I'm me & not my mama. When my dad left her for Rita, she hunted Rita down with a gun. I just vent online. I'd say he got off easy.

This is apparently the post that someone called Bama Hubs about. They copied and pasted it and said he could use it against me in court because I threatened him. I believe I did the OPPOSITE of threaten. I stated that I was done with my venting. I stated that he should be really glad that I am not my mama (which he always throws up in my face - my mama has always been kinda crazy, though). And my parents were married for 23 years when my father left my mother for a 23 year old waitress at a bar. So my mom kind of flipped the fuck out and went after her with a gun. It wasn't loaded, but my future step-mother didn't know that.

I didn't libel or slander anyone. I stated the truth. The truth is that my husband destroyed our marriage with another woman, and the definition of another woman who does stuff like that includes homewrecker, skanky hobag and walking carcinoma. Look it up. 

And of course, I'm not perfect. I have my faults. I am sort of a slob. I'm definitely a know-it-all. I get sick a lot - I seriously catch everything that goes around. My family is often difficult. I over-share the stuff that happens in my life with you guys. We were having financial difficulties due to me not working, but that was temporary until Little Stinker quits running the never-ending fever. But you know what? I didn't deserve this shit. My kids didn't deserve it. If he was unhappy, he should have said something. He should never have done what he did.

He can turn things around and blame them on me all he wants. He can call me crazy. But he's crazy for doing what he did, because me and my kids are completely freaking awesome.

The IRS Made me Pee my Pants

Yesterday I got a letter in the mail. From the IRS.

Now, we're pretty run-of-the-mill tax-wise. We don't have a lot of investments (sadly). We don't make a ton of money (unfortunately). We don't have a buttload of deductions and credits (crappily). Each year when TurboTax does their audit risk assessment thingie, we always get 'low' because we're so vanilla.

But I think everyone dreads getting audited. I've had nightmares where I've woken up thinking that I forgot to claim like a million dollars on my taxes and got audited and wound up with a Wesley Snipes-esque tax bill and had to do time like Martha Stewart.

This would be me instead of Mr. Snipes.

Those dreams suck.

So when I got this letter....from the IRS....I nearly peed myself.

No, seriously, I almost pissed my pants.

I have this thing where I go over the worst-case scenarios in my head. When I was pregnant, I looked at pictures of birth defects that could happen - my babies could be born with no brain, intestines on the outside, no rectum, etc.. When I fly, I go through scenarios in my head about what could happen if the plane goes down - I could get sucked into the engine, the cabin could depressurize, causing a break in the fuselage which would make the section of seats I'm sitting in get sucked out and fall out of the sky. When I'm driving, sandwiched between two semis, I think about what would happen if they were to both lose control and sandwich my van in between them.

Yes, I'm morbid. But my point is that even though I'm a positive person, I prepare myself for the worst-case scenario so that when everything goes fine, I'm pleasantly surprised. Elated, even. I did this all through school with tests and papers, too. I convinced myself I'd fail so that when I didn't, I felt great.

So this letter triggered the nightmare. But I was awake. And it scared me so bad I almost peed.

Right now I'm about the only person in my family who has never been to jail (including my mom - she's been to jail), so I imagined that I was about to lose that distinction in my family.

I started wondering what would happen to my kids when I was in jail. Would Bama Hubs find himself another wife to help with the cooking and child-rearing while I was incarcerated? Would the kids forget me? What would happen to my mom? My surviving brother who is also her son is not eligible to be her guardian due to his criminal record, and if I had a criminal record too, what would that mean for her? How would my dad make his doctor's appointments since he can't seem to do stuff like that on his own? My kids would gain 45 pounds each because they would just eat junk food all the time. Would Bama Hubs ever bring the kids to see me? Would I be able to get conjugal visits?

I pictured getting out of jail in 20 years for my imagined tax fraud, not knowing who my children were and being 'married' to a butch lesbian named Bubbette who had turned me into her bitch in prison. I would have a mullet. And I'd be smoking because there's just not much to do in jail, even though I'd rather bungee jump with no bungee cord than smoke.

Then I opened the letter.

Crisis averted. It was simply my old employer, who had apparently lost my address (how Citigroup lost my address is beyond me), using the IRS mail forwarding service to let me know I still have money in either a 401 (K) or a pension plan.

Shew!

Restless Sleepers

Know what makes me extra crunchy (grouchy)?

Restless sleepers.

Maybe it's because I AM a restless sleeper that it pisses me off so much. When I was little, no one wanted to sleep in the same bed with me. When I spent the night with my grandma, she made me sleep by myself because I tossed and turned all night, punched, kicked and even pulled hair. All in my sleep.

When I sleep, I wake up and the covers are all over the place. The top sheet is pushed down to the bottom of the bed, the comforter is typically sideways and wadded up in various places, and the pillows are in disarray. But I almost always get a good night's sleep when I'm able to sleep.

The only time I can remember NOT sleeping like that was this past Friday when I was in Memphis at my aunt's house. I slept so hard the covers were not disturbed at all.

The reason I slept hard? Two of my kids sleep exactly as I do. And those two kids are constantly in my bed. Which means I'm sandwiched between two kids who toss and turn all night, punch, kick, and yes, even pull hair.

Quite often, Little Stinker forms an 'H' between Bama Hubs and I. Pumpkin Pie gets scared and gets in the bed with us, always on my side, and wedges herself underneath me so that I cannot turn at all. When I'm trying to do my natural toss and turn and am prevented from doing so, I wake up. So with the kids in the bed with me, I wake up at least 1400 times a night. I feel like I never sleep.

I LOVE this! But they forgot 'The Diaper in the Face' and 'Multiple Child Wedge'.
From blogs.ajc.com.

And Poor Bama Hubs. I complain about being jammed between 2 rough sleepers. He's usually cowering on the edge of the bed since he has 3 of us rough sleepers in the bed with him. Good thing he's skinny and doesn't take up much space. And good thing he's not at all a rough sleeper. If he sleeps in the bed by himself, without me or a child in the bed, the covers aren't disturbed at all. He hardly ever moves when he sleeps. Eldest Daughter is the same way.

I really do envy them. It seems like I sleep better when I'm freely allowed to toss and turn. As said before, when I'm prevented from tossing and turning at my leisure, I wake up constantly. If I weren't a restless sleeper, then the other restless sleepers in the bed wouldn't bother me as much. And I probably wouldn't be so damn crunchy (grouchy) all the time.

Sick Kids

On Monday and Tuesday, I had some sick kids. There was puking. There was diarrhea. There was fever, sore throat, and coughing.

But mostly, there was puke. And poop. Lots of poop.

Yesterday morning I had to change my bed sheets twice due to Little Stinker's vomiting. And that was before 5 AM.

And they really need to make pull-ups diarrhea-proof. They just do not hold much. When a little butt explodes due to a tummy bug, those suckers just do not do the duty, so to speak.

Needless to say, I have to shampoo the carpet. If he had just dropped trou and popped a squat in the floor, he probably would have gotten in trouble. But he was trying to let his daddy know what was coming, saying his tummy hurt, and man, it came. It came out of him like hot lava. It was kinda like this:

Maya Rudolph crapped herself. In the street. In a wedding dress.

The hot lava line and the picture both come from the movie 'Bridesmaids' - if you haven't seen it, please do so. Everyone could use a good laugh, and even Bama Hubs thought it was hilarious.

Anyway, as a human, most of us hate to see sick kids. When they're your kids, it's about 9 million times worse. You want to cry as you hold their little bodies while they puke. Even if they're puking all over you.  You want to rub their little bellies while they cramp up. Even if they're pooping all over you.

So if you have kids and can't take gross stuff, I pray that your spouse can handle it. As much as Bama Hubs and I have been puked, pooped and peed on, I don't know what either of us would have done if we had weak stomachs. In fact, yesterday morning, when Little Stinker woke us up at 3 am throwing up the first time, we cleaned him up the best we could, I changed sheets and we went back to sleep. It happened again an hour later. When Bama Hubs finally got up to get ready for work, he realized that he had dried puke all in his hair, probably from the first go-round of throwing up.

Honestly, this blog was going in a whole different direction than where it went. But I'm so tired from getting up so much with sick kids that I totally lost my train of thought. I think it makes enough sense. If it doesn't....well, I really don't give a crap. You guys probably don't either.