Lipstick Hooligan

Kaden is pretty good about playing by himself when he needs to. He plays with cars, blocks, "folds" clothes, or will even sit and watch a movie for a bit. He's a good kid.

I usually don't think much of it when he's quiet.

I sat here at my computer this afternoon after lunch trying to make changes to my MySpace layout. As it turns out, the profile editor is down, and if you've got any code in the editor your profile is unchangeable until it comes back up, so my efforts were fruitless. Such is life....

Kaden was in his room playing as I typed in code after code and cursed MySpace repeatedly. He was quiet.

And then I knew something was up.

Giggling.

Oh, Lord, here we go. I walked into his room to see what he was giggling over. Imagine the look on my face when I see $9 liquid lipstick in my son's hands.

On my son's hands.
On my son's face.
On my son's neck.
On my son's stomach.

And it won't come off.

I hop online to google how to get lipstick off of a toddler. Baby oil? makeup remover? Let it wear off... Oh God, his dad will love this.

I have to admit, I am a pretty big fan of Maxfactor makeup. They have bold colors you won't find in the "Covergirl" section, and the product is good. Their cream eyeliner is amazing - I put the stuff on and was still wearing it, unsmudged, 2 days later.

This liquid lipstick catastrophe is hard evidence that I didn't need.
Their website boasts specificially about the product my son put to the test: "Endless possibilities for attention-getting, dimensional color that lasts up to 10 hours. In your favorite fashion-forward shades."

I have no idea how I'm going to get it off of him. I may very well just have to let it wear off. Not sure how his dad is going to react to his little boy wearing lipsick. I'll just have to remind him - You can put lipstick on a boy - but he's still a boy.

Is the tank half empty, or half full?

A truly amazing thing has happened, and I only just noticed it.

The gas tank in my car is not empty....

The first miracle was being able to fill my gas tank from E until the clicker stopped for only $33. I drive a Saturn, and my gas tank is not that big, but I rarely ever fill the thing because of the soaring gas prices. I had just got paid so I was feeling rich, and gas prices had dropped, so I filled up.

Tomorrow will be two weeks since I filled that tank up. My gas tank, to my surprise, is half full.... Or is it half empty?

How the hell did that happen? I'm shocked and amazed.

And kinda bummed, because it's obvious that the reason why I have more gas in my car than usual is because I haven't been using it. I've been a total homebody the last two weeks.

Then again, if your last two attempts to be social went as poorly as mine did.... You'd probably stay at home for the rest of your life, too. So yeah. In this case, I think the tank is half empty.

Tequila makes her clothes fall off

Recently I've found myself looking for the perfect piece to compliment my outfit, only to remember,

"Oh yeah. I lost it."

The song really does seem to ring true for me...

Except my first experience with alcohol, where I came home with extra clothes... Big props to the guy I was with for letting a drunk chick that puked on herself wear his spare t-shirt home.

Now, I don't really drink that often, (And I don't generally do tequila) but when I do, you can pretty much bet on it being a good time. I have come home sans shoes, jewelry, and yes, sweaters.

For my first drinking excursion, I made the mistake of wearing 5 inch high heels. Yes, the shoes were sexy... however attempting to balance myself in them as I walked around a pool table (I swear bars switch from using rectangle to trapezoid-shaped pool tables halfway through any given Friday or Saturday night) was not. Somehow, I managed to break the strap of my gorgeous heels. I also broke a necklace that night.

On another rowdy night out (I believe tequila was one of the seven shots I hit up that night - on top of countless mixed drinks) I lost a pretty jewel-toned dark pink sweater. With 3/4 sleeves and a little button closure, it was the perfect solution to keeping me warm while I wasn't rocking out on the dance floor with a girl friend to some local band's rendition of "Crazy Bitch." My date was too occupied by the trapezoid that night to be bothered with putting an arm around me to keep me warm. If memory serves (and it probably doesn't) I did make it out of the bar with the sweater, but left it at a friend's house afterwards. I really don't think I can blame the tequila here, though (I'm about 99% sure the Bailey's I ended up licking off myself was at fault).

I also lost the similar-styled black sweater (that you can see me wearing as a blonde in my myspace picture album. Actually right next to it is a picture of the pink sweater mentioned above) on a different night - though the only thing I had been drinking when I lost it was coffee flavored Rockstar energy drinks.

Any shoes that I've lost after a night of drinking can generally be found in the passenger side floorboard of the car the next day, and, well.. I can't say what happens to my earrings...
But I think Joe Nichols had better think twice about letting his wife drink Tequila without him because I sure as hell didn't lose that earring in my drink.

Tongue Tied

Have you ever watched a toddler learn a new trick?

My son experimenting with his newfound independence has got to be one of the most interesting and hilarious things I have ever seen. Whether it's putting on a pair of pants by himself, scooping up broccoli on his fork, or walking down a few stairs, he insists on doing things on his own.

Somewhere in his two years of existence, he's learned to concentrate with his tongue.

I swear, this little boy couldn't do half of the things that he does if he didn't have a tongue - he uses it for everything.

When he's climbing up onto the couch or his Kaden-sized recliner, he pokes that little tongue out, deep in concentration.

When he's building a "waffle-block" city (or playing Kadenzilla tearing it apart) that little muscle in his mouth gets quite a workout.

While attemtping to put his own pants on, just like a puppy, he's got that tongue hanging out.

Grandma Debby has been attempting to teach him to jump - and I have to admit, I'm scared to death of what might happen when he finally figures it out.

This is only the beginning stages. He is only two, and I know I have a good 16 years of him experimenting with his independence.

Right now, watching him stick that tongue out to concentrate, I can sit back and think "Aww, how cute..."

It's hard to think that one of these days I'll undoubtedly see him sticking out that tongue as he's concentrating on calculus and my only response will be...

"When the hell did you get that thing pierced!?!?"

are you smarter than an aussie?

Last month, my friend Tony from Australia came up (way up) for a visit while he was on "holiday" overseas. Being his first trip to the United States, my parents tried to squeeze in as many local(ish) tourist attractions as they could in the few days he was here.

He really amazed me at the St. Louis Arch, as we checked out the heights of other National Monuments. He knew locations and details - While I'd not even heard of some of them.

As many times as I have been to the St. Louis Arch, I felt clueless about it. I didn't even know it was the tallest monument in the United States... I would have assumed the Statue of Liberty was taller, but no... even with the foundation the statue sits on, it is only half as tall as the Gateway Arch.

He knew our presidents, some by name and number. I can't even name the presidents carved in Mount Rushmore, let alone what term they served... and I've been there.

He played along with the trivia game that played in front of the movie we watched about the Arch. With a simple random fact on the screen, he was able to answer the name and location of most of the National Parks. I'd never heard of most of them, though I was able to answer the obvious ones.

I think he knew more about Abe Lincoln than I do, too, and I live an hour away from Springfield. That is a sad thing to learn.

How is it possible that a foreigner knows more about my country than I do?
I've lived here for 23 years - my whole life, and here this was his first time visiting the United States. My high school History teachers would be severely disappointed.

For the record, I'm sure I'm definitely not smarter than a 5th grader, either!

I really should look into going back to college!

Knock Out

Today I had my first experience with anesthesia.

I went in to have an upper GI scope done, after working from 7pm last night to 7am this morning. I slept at home before we left. I slept on the way to the hospital. I slept while waiting to be given the anesthesia. Basically, I was already sound asleep before they gave me the drugs.

The last thing I remember was having the oxygen tubes wrapped around my face and stuck up my nostrils. I'm not even sure if it was the drugs that put me to sleep first.

While they shoved their little camera-tube down my throat, I slept soundly in more ways than one.

My parents can tell you just how hard it is to wake me up from a normal sleep....
From banging on my bedroom door repeatedly, yelling at me, and eventually stealing my covers, my parents used to have a hell of a time waking me up to get ready for school in the mornings.
I can only imagine the trouble the nurses must have went through while trying to wake me up today, seeing as they had to wake me up twice!

At 10:00 I went to fill out paperwork and get my IV started. I went in to be knocked out at 11:00. They said the procedure would take 5-10 minutes, and it was about 1:30 by the time
we were leaving the hospital.

So, yeah, it took me a while to wake up, and I really don't remember any of it.

I'm left wondering what the hell I said as I was waking up, because my mother asked me,

"So when did you kiss a girl?"


Oi!



I just hope, for my mother's sake, that I didn't mention anything else...

Crazy Bitch

"your a bitch"


I received this message today in my Truth Box ap on myspace, and am quite confused by it. I'm not sure if it came jokingly from a friend ("Crazy Bitch" is one of my profile songs, after all) or if it came seriously from an enemy.

Either way, the sentence confuses me.


The message I am referring to is the one on top. Now, I'm not going to fully believe that the message is from a girl, because I know for a fact that these messages were not all posted by women... I don't know why the little images to the left are all chicks. Moving onward...

"Your a bitch" is not grammatically correct. The poster has either signed this Truth Box message as being from my bitch, or they are trying to call me a bitch.

You see, the word "your" is a possessive term. It means that whatever comes after that word belongs to me. In this sentence, "a bitch" is mine. However, if they were signing this Truth Box message, the "a" between "your" and "bitch" is unnecessary. This leads me to believe that the author of this message is actually trying to call me a bitch, in which case they should have used the word "you're."

"You're" is a conjunction of the words "you" and "are." Had the author used the proper version of the word, this sentence would clearly read "you are a bitch."

Quite obviously, I really am a bitch...

attracting new clientele

The other night I was talking to my mom about how I can't attract men that are near my age.

It seems that I keep getting MySpace messages from men that are 29+

I am 23. My last boyfriend was 35.

I joke around that it's hereditary - There is a 12 year age gap between my parents.

I think I also keep forgetting that I'm 23 years old. The last time I was "on the market" I had just turned 18. I guess it's hard to think of myself as getting older, too.

My mom has been right there for me, trying to help me find Mr. Right. She's been wrong about a lot of things.. but, nonetheless, I know she is only trying to help.

And the other night, while discussing the "age" matter, she told me I needed to get "All dolled up" so she could take a new picture for my MySpace. She said obviously the picture I have up obviously isn't doing the trick for me, and I need a new picture that will attract "different clientele."

Umm.. What?

"Clientele?? I ain't no hooker, Mom!" I told her.

She kind of laughed and told me I should know what she means. She's a natural blonde, so I let her get away with it... and I did know what she was talking about.

So, be sure to check my MySpace for a new "All dolled up" picture. I plan to show up for my photo shoot in knee high stiletto boots, fishnet stockings and a corset top. I may even throw in a syringe.

Ok, I'm sure you can sense the sarcasm. I couldn't resist.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Sometimes I feel like I'll never find what I'm looking for.
Then I sit down and try to figure out what the hell it actually is that I'm looking for.

I think I have been approached more this year than I have in all of my years in dating combined.
I've turned down several offers, ignored some completely, have chatted up a few potential prospects, had a few dates. I even dragged out a relationship over the summer that I knew was going nowhere. And I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Late last night on MySpace messenger, I was approached about no-strings sex.

We were interested in each other about 5 1/2 years ago, but he left the state for military training and years went by before I ever ran into him again. We also talked a bit at the beginning of this year, but I just wasn't into it.

He asked repeatedly if he could come over, and I turned him down again and again. At one point, he sent a message that said -

"how about a hand job?"

I told him to use his own hand and his imagination. Had I looked at his profile before this conversation took place, I would have told him to call his girlfriend.

I may not know what I'm looking for, but I know "no-strings sex" is definitely not it (especially not with an attached man).

Some days I think I want to eventually get married again. Other days I think I like not being tied down. I go back and forth on whether or not I want more kids, too. I guess that depends on if I ever find the right man (for both)... and how bad my son's terrible two's turn out to be.

I guess if I don't even know who I am, how can I expect to know what I want? Or where to find it?

I'm going to keep on looking until I figure it out...

But I'm going to start with myself first.

Dripping dry

It is so damned easy in this life to take things for granted. As Americans especially, there are just some things that we expect to always be there for us. We've gotten so accustomed to having certain luxuries that we are beginning to depend on them, which could very well put us in a world of hurt.

Think about the last time you were let down by something you've come to take for granted....

Did you come home from a hard days work, grab a soda, plop down on the couch and flip the TV on, only to find your cable/dish/sattelite network is having technical difficulties?

Did you wake up in the morning, pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down at your computer to discover that your internet server is down?

Maybe you were out shopping, and you decided to call your spouse to ask one last time if there was anything you needed that did not get put on the shopping list. You reach into your purse or pocket, and then you remember that your cell phone was left on it's charger at home.

Or, maybe you're like me... I have no one at home to call to remind me of any items I need that I may have forgotten about. I don't usually make a physical shopping list because I tend not to stick to it, anyways. I keep track of the basics in my head, and hope my memory doesn't fail me.

Don't ask me how that method of shopping is working out for me.

I did my shopping late Saturday night. It was kind of a last minute decision to go at the time, so although i did have an idea of the basic things I needed, I didn't have a lot of time to think about it.

I got to the store and grabbed the obvious things, milk, bread, and some quick simple things to feed a finicky toddler (chicken nuggets and fish sticks). I also spent plenty of time looking around at things I didn't need - but that's a given.

I went home, put things away and really couldn't think of anything I might have missed. I thought I made out fairly well. Satisfied with my trip, I went to bed.

I woke up Sunday morning and did the general lazy morning routine... Brush hair, brush teeth, relieve bladder...

As I sat there on the stool, there it was, staring me in the face.

A few tiny little scraps clinging to a cardboard roll.

You have got to be kidding me.....

Guess I'll drip dry....

I generally buy toilet paper in bulk. It's just one of those items you don't like to be seen pushing around in your cart at the local Wal-mart. I'm not really sure why I think it's so embarassing to be buying toilet paper, because everybody uses it. But my point is, I buy it in bulk so I don't have to be seen making that purchase very often.

Because I go so long without buying it, I've come to just always count on it to be there. It's not something I expect not to have.

I plan to not let this happen again.

TV, internet, cell phone... that type of thing I can survive without (in fact, I have no tv service at all). Toilet paper, however, is kind of on the essentials list. I'm thinking it's a good thing I have plenty of storage room in the bathroom, because I imagine toilet paper is going to become a "ketchup" item to me....
You know.... you end up with 5 unopened bottles of ketchup in your kitchen cabinet because you buy it everytime you go shopping because you can't remember if you actually need it or not, but don't want to find yourself without it...

I have learned my lesson though. There is no toilet paper fairy... Tinkerbell doesn't just wiggle her tiny little tushy and magically re-fill an empty roll.

And pushing toilet paper around in a cart at Wal-mart is a lot less embarassing than calling up mom and dad and asking to borrow a roll of toilet paper.

I kissed a girl

In honor of "National Coming Out Day" I guess I will blog on sexual orientation.

I try to be as upfront and honest as possible when it comes to my sexual orientation.

I consider myself to be....



(gasp) .....




Straight.





Whew, am I glad to get that off my chest.

I have kissed a girl... actually two in the same (sober) night. One was a good friend of mine who caught me off guard (it was just a quick peck on the lips), and the other was a friend of hers. Our other mutual friend who was with us at the time (the only guy with us that night) dared us to kiss, and at that point, I thought "Oh, what the hell!" That was even before Katy Perry released her song.

It's true that I can be a little more assertive when alcohol is involved, but I don't think that's unusual... I've bought drinks for girls I didn't know and have sent drunken text messages to my female friends at 1:30 in the morning. On my last drinking endeavor, I sat down next to a girl and powdered her up with edible vanilla body glitter. In my defense, she was wearing a shirt with an open back (it needed something) and I did not lick it off.

I don't know why it is, but I can definitely understand what attracts men to women.

The way thick dark hair falls in waves around a heart shaped face.
The way a soft cotton t-shirt hugs the upper body just right.
The way pouty red lips look paired with blushing cheeks.

Whether or not they want to admit it, I believe all women check each other out. We are constantly checking out magazine models. We compare ourselves to our significant others' ex love interests. We check out how we fare against the competition when we're out. We take a look so we can tell the honest truth when our best friend asks us if her ass look big in her new jeans. We primp and preen ourselves before a big date until we find ourselves attractive. We do it all the time. This is why I don't think that simply finding members of the same sex attractive should make anyone question their sexuality.

I have a girl friend (the same one I shared that peck on the lips with) that I think has beautiful hair, gorgeous lips, and a nice ass, and I've told her so. It doesn't mean I want to embark on a long-term sexual relationship with her.

And that is why I consider myself straight.

Sure, I kissed a girl.

Yes, I can appreciate a good looking woman.

I do have a theory that I think a woman could please another woman better than a man (in some aspects) because women know what women like.

Ok, so you could probably call me a little bi-curious.

But men can be trained.

I have no desire to be with a woman sexually (one on one), nor do I have the desire to have a relationship other than friendship with a woman.
As a woman myself, I know that we are complicated creatures. With mood swings, deep thought processes, self esteem issues... I have enough trouble with my own, thank you.

That, and there are some things that a man has that a woman just doesn't.

That deep, sexy voice.
The gentle tickle of chest hair against bare breasts.
The feeling of a little facial scruff roughed up on soft skin.

Oh yeah, and a penis.

Happy "Coming Out" day!

Driving me crazy

I absolutely hate driving.

With that said, I would almost guarantee that anyone who has ever been my passenger would tell you they hate for me to drive as well.
I went through the "behind the wheel" section of Drivers Ed. twice, and was only a few months shy
of turning 17 before I was finally given my drivers' license. I even had to take the driven test at the DMV twice... I didn't stop even with stop sigs, zoomed through a yellow light as it was turning red, and had the lady giving me the test reaching for the "Oh shit!" handles. Unfortunately, there were none, so she resorted to shouting "Oh shit!" instead.

I love walking out into the parking lot after exiting a store. I can't count how many times I've come out to see people staring at the gaping hole in the side of my car.

Yes, there's a hole in my car.

While trying to roll up my (crank) window on the passenger side (while driving) I veered a bit to the right (ok a lot) and hit the curb... and hit a sign. The fiberglass that my car is made of (Saturn.. gotta love it) was frozen, and therefore shattered. Oh yeah, that incident also took off a hubcap, and the passenger side mirror. It's a beautiful sight.

It's pretty safe to say I'm a horrible driver. You will never hear me say, "I wanna drive!" I think it is a big responsibility. I don't like being in control of such a potentially lethal weapon.

When I was in school, there was talk of the legal driving age being risen to 18. At the time, I was pissed. Instead of raising the legal driving age, they made a law that students cannot have more than one passenger in the car with them driving alone for the first 6 months, unless it's a sibling.
I really think this did nothing.

Reasoning was that new drivers would be less likely to try and "show off," but all this did was put more young, inexperienced drivers on the road. I would be all for the legal driving age being risen to 18, except for students who are working, in which case they should be allowed to drive themselves to and from work only.

Give them a driving permit and let them drive with supervision for 3 years. I know I used to do things behind the wheel that were blatantly stupid. i.e. driving 90 down a hilly country road, trying to see how high you could get your car off the ground. Passing friends when it's completely unsafe, just to say you passed them. Cranking music so loud you can't hear traffic outside.

I know some adults do things just like this now, and texting behind the wheel is another big one, but at least those adults are grown up enough to know better. Who decided that at 16 students were old and mature enough to handle a vehicle, while other laws are basically saying they are not even old and mature enough to handle their own mind?

You must be 18 years old to vote for who you think should run your country. But you only have to be 16 to be put in sole responsibility of a 10,000+ pound potential death trap. Where does that make sense?

Peanut Butter Kisses

To most people, "peanut butter kisses" are those peanut butter flavored taffy-like candies that come in orange or black wrappers that you see in stores around Halloween time. But anyone with a toddler in their life will tell you that those chewy candies are nothing compared to the peanut butter kisses this blog is named for.

It never fails that my two year old seems to have his most affectionate moments when he's covered with food. I've had chocolate tickle-fests, spaghetti-o grins, and apple juice hugs... but my favorites are peanut butter kisses.

I can see (and smell) them coming from across the house. Sitting in my computer chair, I hear little feet dancing across the kitchen floor. I smell the peanut butter (good, he's actually eating the snack I gave him) and here it comes...

"MOMMY!"

He crashes into me with crummy fingers and his mouth nearly super glued shut with peanut butter. He climbs up into my lap and puckers his little lips.

"No, don't kiss me!" I tease him, jerking my head back.
He laughs, and makes another attempt.
"No!" Again, I dodge the messy face coming towards me.
"Mommy!" He grabs my face this time, and there is no escape.

"Muah!"

He plants an over dramatized peanut butter kiss right on my lips.
"Oh, thank you!" I tell him, laughing as I wipe the peanut butter and cracker crumbs off my face. He lay his head on my chest for a brief moment and I hugged him tight.
"I love you buddy," I reminded him.
"Love you" he said, as best as he could with peanut butter still on the roof of his mouth.

Before he was born, I used to cringe at the thought of messy faces and sticky fingers.. But now, I can't imagine my life without them.