Do you know what's really awesome?

Sending bitchy hate mail to someone.


In case I haven't said it before, my sister-in-law is a douche canoe.



It's been a really long evening. I wanted to write more today but I no longer have it in me.

I miss Radio. I miss Roo.

This life sucks today.

F*ck You Friday

Dear "Friend",

Thanks so much for inviting me to have coffee with you today. I cannot stand your presence really love spending time with you ever since you made fun of dining room wall decor, broke my cake stand, made comments about the gray in my hair, etc, etc, etc.

Did you not notice that I was obsessively screening my phone wasn't returning very many of your calls?

Alas, I am a dumbass, and met you for coffee anyway.

I could tell you were pissed when I threw away my half-eaten hashbrowns from BK but your son obviously did not want them and YOU are not supposed to have them. I refuse to fund your food issues. Could you tell I was pissed when you kept walking away to shop whilst leaving me to make sure your toddler didn't run away/kill himself/knock over every display in the store? Obviously not.

Let's get something clear, from the hours of 8:30am to 2:00pm, my uterus is at lunch. I did not birth your child and I will not be responsible for him either. From here on out there will be no more coffees as I am clearly just your glorified nanny.

Signed, your-friend-who-you-use-to-love-spending-time-with-but-no-longer-does-because-all-you-do-is-bitch-about-life-and-gossip-about-people.

Uh yeah. Is that strait-jacket gimp friendly?

Because I sure as hell need one.

It has been a monumentally shit-tastic day. We all have them, right? And when we have them, we all need friends to lean on, right?

So when you see that a friend has left a message on crackbook detailing a horrible, no good, very bad day, you call them up and make sure they have enough tequila right? You don't call and bitch about your mother-in-law, knowing full well your friend is barely holding it together while her childrens are sick/driving her crazy, her husband is playing in the sandbox almost completely cut-off from communication and she is coming up on the very worst week of her life, right?

Jesus christ. I swear, some people.

Speaking of tequila, I may or may not have seriously considered giving a shot of it to the First One tonight. She's a bit stressed out this week thanks to some little douchebag at school, standardized testing and the fact Daddy is still gone and not coming home anytime soon. Maybe a bong hit would be safer.

I jest people. Kind of.



Magic carpet ride anyone?


And to make up for my extreme flakiness, some eye candy:



I miss that man.

By the way, I have $5 for the first person to come up with a dildo that brushes your hair and cuddles with you afterward. Five WHOLE dollars people.

It's been a long time.

I've really missed it. I'm kind of hoping it's like riding a bike and that I'll drop right back in to what I had before. Don't think it's going to be quite that easy though, I'm struggling with just these few sentences.

You know how exciting it is when you first start blogging? And it's going well and you get some comments and you soak up the love (and hate) like an orphaned puppy left in the rain? And then you think of how much fun it would be to let all your "in-real-life" friends and family in on the secret so they could see how witty you are?


Yeah.


Sooooooooo not a good idea.


Like every "good military wife" (please note, those air quotes I'm throwing at you are meant to express extreme disdain and sarcasm) I dutifully did the rounds and made a few friends out here. One stumbled across my blog by accident, the other I (rather stupidly) invited personally to read.

Not a good idea. I have been felt stifled for MONTHS because of my own stupidity. By letting people here in on my private life I have been unable to vent, have online emotional breakdowns, dissect my relationship with Radio and the girls and just flat out be me. I stopped blogging there when my life became a topic of playdate and coffee discussions, when my dead child would be brought up in public without my consent.

I'm just done with it.

Here's to a new start. Let's all cross our fingers it goes well.