Saturday, June 18, 2011

Lots of Filler

Hello. I am currently not at home. This means I don't have Photoshop to draw stupid pictures with. And MS Paint sucks a hairy ass. So, here's a few things to keep you occupied:

First, here is my dog, Gizmo, chasing the cursor:

Next, here are some old posts. You need to read them. Or I'll cut you.

Real Mom Dress Up. And then post them on the SASMA Facebook wall. I'm serious, man, I'll cut you. Or punch you in the taint. Whichever I'm in the mood for.

If Mom and Kid commercials told the truth 2.

Ah, Memories.

Are you reading this shit yet?

And one more:

This is why I have anger management issues. Also, I like ludicrously long titles.

My work here is done. You're welcome.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Demon Mouse, or A break from our regularly scheduled maternal angst

I know it's been a week since I last posted. I suck. But I was sick with bronchitis, and the copious amounts of albuterol I've been inhaling has killed a few million brain cells, and rendered me retarded.

And today, I don't bring you a woeful tale of motherhood, or a f-word riddled post about another Layla misadventure. In fact, this post has nothing to do with being a mother at all.

See, I have a mouse living in my bedroom walls. At least, that's what we ASSUME it is. For the past week, I have woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of chewing and scratching. In my sleep-deprived stupor, upon hearing this sound, my brain does not make the obvious and logical statement of: "Awww, a cute little mouse living in my walls. Hope it doesn't chew my shit up." It doesn't imagine an innocent little rodent, trying to free itself.

No, it immediately jumps to images of a demon mouse, fangs slathered in blood and the remains of its former victims, furiously trying to claw its way out of my wall so it can come and eat me alive.

I know it's not REALLY the Freddy Kruger of rodents living in my wall. But the fucking thing is so loud, my neurotic brain immediately imagines torture and death and maiming at the claws of a mutant mouse.

I'm perfectly stable, really.

So, my lovely and illustrious readers, I have a question for you. Would you like me to post MORE stories of random shit that goes on in my life/house/vagina (not really), or would you rather I stick to tales of Layla's destruction and other observations of cynical motherhood?

This certainly does not mean there will be no more posts making fun of my child. But having a random post everyone once in a while about something completely off-topic would be amusing, and my brain might cooperate more if I have a wider range of possible subjects. (That crack I smoked in the 90s is coming back to haunt me)

I'll most likely do whatever the fuck I want, no matter what you answer. But I may stop being an asshole long enough to consider your opinions. :D

**ETA: There shall be a part 2 to this story, because I totally forgot about what happened the other night. Ooooh! Suspenseful!

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Special Superhero edition

Look! Standing over there! It's a zombie! It's a hobo! No! It's...WONDER MOM!!

Faster than projectile vomit! More powerful than a screaming offspring! Able to leap piles of shit and toys in a single bound!

The powers of Wonder Mom never cease!

Able to detect wrongdoing from 100 yards!

See out the back of her head!

Identify what the fuck that smell is!

She can clean the house, answer the phone, save her child from drowning in the toilet! All at the same time!

Can hear the slightest indication that her spawn is about to fuck some shit up!

With her tool belt of paper towels and Hammer of Reality, Wonder Mom can do ANYTHING!

Woooonnndddeeerrr Mooooommmm!!

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