Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Piggy D - 1975



Ok...so every new song he releases is my favorite...they really just keep getting better and better!

My Children Are Probably Going to Kill Me Someday, But What Can You Do About It?

The other day, my babiest Baby C and his P.I.C., Miss M were having a tug of war over Corbin's Woody (from Toy Story, you pervs) doll.  I did the right thing and made him give it to her because she's a girl and that's just the way things work so he may as well get used to it now.  What did he do??

He picked up a machine gun and shot me...twice.  Now, I know some of you don't allow little boys to play with guns and that's fine but let me tell you a secret:  they're making guns out of their fingers, sticks and their penises every time you turn your back.  It's in their dna.

Because my littlest little is so atttached to me, I figured if I played dead- real dead, because I am an actress, people, that he would feel bad and stop.  This is how the conversation went after he shot me.  I need to tell you quickly that they still babble incoherently, so the things I infer for myself, I'll write like this.

Miss M:  You shot you Mommy, Torvin?

Baby C:  Yes.  I'll shoot any bitch who messes with my Woody doll.

Miss M:  You shot you Mommy, Torvin.

Baby C:  She dead.  Give me my fucking Woody doll.

Miss M:  Here's your Woody, Torvin. (giving doll back to my son)


Not once was the little bugger concerned that I might actually be dead.  He shot me with a machine gun, folks.  From time to time, it occurs to me that I may have gone slightly wrong somewhere while raising them...I think it was somewhere between The Wiggles and Yo Gabba Gabba.

Monday, September 19, 2011


Waiting for my tour pack sucked...

Luckily, I have no idea how it got here so fast, but...



Yes.  I took my wedding picture out of this frame to put PD in- I couldn't help myself. 
 That is just one of the cool things my order contained- I am in PD heaven today AND he was faster than Dj Ashba which is saying a lot!  Plus, he signed my picture to 'My favorite rock star mom' so, that means out of all of them, I am his very favorite.  There may only be one or two others...or maybe none..but it doesn't matter because I'm his favorite.

I do however have serious doubts that the shirt contained in the pack was worn because it was 113 degrees here, there were WALLS of pyro and the shirt doesn't smell like anything but new.  I had a virtual 'smell the shirt' party at my house today and my friends and I decided several things.  One- maybe it WAS new and he was embarassed of how much he sweated here and didn't want to send me a crunchy shirt or two - (my favorite) he smells really, really good, (like sunshine and candy) therefore no sweat.  Or three- he just sends out new ones because really, who but me would smell the armpits and the belly button area of an allegedly used shirt?  Besided as one of my dear male friends pointed out "Don't you think HE thinks it's weird that YOU want to smell his sweaty shirt??"  Touche', Ryan, touche'.  One of my neighbors suggested that I ask for a pair of his used undies so I can compare, but I believe that would mark me of the off the 'slightly crazy' list and move me onto the 'call 911' list forever. 

Anyway I don't give a rats arse if it's new or not because it's going to look badass in my office!!!!

Plus, now he's back on HWFI with me .  He totally deserves a break!

Something else about raising boys...

First of all, I promised Colin I would NOT put this story on Facebook...so today I'm teaching him  about a little something called a 'white lie'.  But I also had to teach him what a 'courtesy flush' is and how to use a plunger, so I figure we're even.

This is a little piece of  wisdom I imparted upon my oldest Baby C this am:

Colin:(from bathroom):  Wow, Mom! I'm full of poop today!

Me:  Mmmmm...ok. (thinking about Frank for a moment) Perhaps a courtesy flush, son??

Colin:  What's a courtesy flush and I have poop on my hands.

Me:  A courtesy flush is when you flush in the middle of a poop so you don't have to use a little something called a 'plunger' and you need to wash your hands with soap.  This is why you always wash your hands with SOAP after you poop- there might be some poop on your hands that you don't see.  Then, what if you go and eat a sandwich?

Colin:  Oh, Mommy!  Then I would be eating a poop sandwich!  That would be hilarious!   And awesome!  My friends would be all 'ewwwww' and I'd be all 'no, it's cool- I like poop sandwiches...'

I didn't really know what to say after that so I just showed him how to use a plunger in silence.  This is one of those times, I really, really thing Frank would have done a better job at teaching our children something because I somehow made eating a shit sandwich sound cool.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Please add this to the reasons why you don't want kids

I haven't showered or peed without an audience since 2004. 

The youngest of my Baby C's recently began a habit of building  a wall out of toilet paper so he can hang on my neck while I do my bathroom business. Children are immune to the smell of their own poop and their parents poop, apparently, because he insists on shutting the door and turning off the fart fan every single time, too.

 I also told him that he's getting too big for me to carry around the house while I'm doing stuff.  I said if he could hang on my back all by himself, he could hang there all day if he wanted.  Now, I feel like I have a baby spider monkey because he can fucking do it, people!  That should be a really good lesson if you ignore my advice and have a little bugger anyway- never challenge them to do something you think is impossible just so they'll give you a minute of peace- because all babies are geniuses of some kind.

They'll also call you on all of your bullshit.  I mean all of it.  Today Corbin drew all over his legs with an ink pen.  AFTER I told him at least 7,000 times to stop.  When I told him he was making a huge mess AND he looked goofy, wanna know what he did?  He turned my wrist over and showed me my very own goofy mess- my brand new tattoo.