Diet Update

You may be wondering how my diet is going. And I can honestly say, I am right on track.

Serious willpower skillz? I haz it.

NARY a processed carb has passed these lips for 5 days. Of course, I am eating a small amount of carbs, in the way of green veggies, but overall.. I am averaging around 15-25 carbs a day. Go on ahead. CHECK a nearby label. I'll wait. Cuz that's a SERIOUSLY low amount of carbs.

I am feeling great. NO hunger whatsoever. All the induction flu symptoms are gone. I am not exactly singing and dancing yet, (you would know, cuz the tremors would be felt into the Florida pan handle) but I've managed to get through this last week, totally cheat free. (There's just that little matter of a body that I need to dispose of)..heh.

Now, if someone could just shut. that. cake. up.

Rehab

So first, I must thank dear Fairly Odd Mother for bestowing on me my very first ROFL award! Thanks FOM!

Now, on to business. Or should I say torture. As I mentioned, I am dieting. I have chosen the ONLY diet I can do, The Atkins Diet. Why Atkins? Because I recognize a hidden rehab. program when I see one. And well, I *need* rehab. So here's the bad part. For those of you that have not tried a low carb diet, when you abruptly stop taking your drugs stop eating sugar and carbs, you go through WITHDRAWALS. Not just "Oh I really wish I could have a bite of that donut" withdrawals, But full-on "hand it over and nobody gets hurt!!" heroin spins. They call it "Induction Flu".

So, here is what I have resembled for the last three days.

DysdHubby thinks I am dying. LAWDY- I haven't had withdrawals like this since I quit smoking. SERIOUSLY. But.. The good news is, it's finally over. Today, aside from a minor headache, I feel pretty good. AND I had scrambled eggs for breakfast.

New Years Restitution Resolution

I am fat..FAT FAT FATTY FAT. I can't hide it any more. The big T-shirts aren't cutting it anymore.

I once promised myself (years ago, when fooling myself was easy) that I would absolutely NEVER wear a double digit.

I didn't grow up fat. As a child, I was a stick. I got teased for being too thin. As a teenager, I was a svelt size 5. And for 5'9, that was pretty darn svelt.

Then I had babies. OH lord the sacrifices a mother makes. I got fat WHILE pregnant. And then I got pregnant AGAIN and got even FATTER. And that's when I gave up the promise of never a double digit.

Fast forward a decade and I have two options.

OPTION 1. LOSE WEIGHT NOW. or..

OPTION 2. A new promise: never to wear a double digit that begins with NUMBER TWO. But see, I simply can't *do* option 2. I can't bring myself to OWN this. I can't just be a proud fat girl. I don't have it in me. So option numero uno it is.


As of yesterday I am going Low Carb. I WILL lose weight. I may have to kill several innocent bystanders on the journey, cuz man am I a BEYOTCH without my pie and icecream, but I swear. No carbs shall pass these lips. So. help. me.

It's Here.

Yes..... According to my little Christmas counter, Christmas is here. So I am posting one last time before I take a couple days off for the festivities.

• The Roast Beast for this year has been decreed. Yea, it shall be ham. All in the land of dysfunction adore ham. I have also learned how to cook it in the crock pot, which means a better feast experience for all, and less cooking hassle. Yay me!

• The birthday kitten. (see below post) You know, the one who looks so cute & innocent? He chewed the sh** out of my christmas lights. ::insert involuntary lip twitch here:: I can't believe we didn't find that little punk fried to a crisp under the tree. He completely severed one strand from it's plug, (mind you, they were plugged in at the time) and, we had to unplug two others because he nearly gnawed them in half - The. Little. Effer.

• We finally got all our Christmas shopping done. After 2 full days and numerous jaunts through the 9th circle of hell in and out of Walmart, Target, Kohls, and Dare I Say It- The Mall, I have just placed myself on the national donor match waiting list, for my impending double foot transplant.

• It snows here. every. freaking. year. You *must* have 4XD in the winter. It never fails- some idiot in a tiny little POS car gets out on the road in a full-on blizzard and manages to get stuck in the middle of the intersection, causing a 5 car pile-up. These Yo-heads are giving the local law-enforcement a migraine, and putting a serious beyotch in my Christmas Cheer. Tire chains people!

And so after much CHAOS, we here at dysfunctional house, are finally housebound. It's all cookies and cocoa from here. Nobody and I mean nobody is going anywhere until well after New Years. So, go on ahead Jack Frost. BRING IT.

OH yeah and to my 2 readers, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Visa..For Birthdays.

Cost of Gas to get to the Sizzler Restaurant: $10 dollars.

Dinner & Drinks for 3 Children and 2 Adults: $65 dollars.

Watching my 14 year old DIVA of a daughter squirm like a wet puppy, wishing she could climb right UNDER that table when EVERY Sizzler employee in the place came parading out, clapping and singing at the TOP OF THEIR LUNGS: PRICELESS.

For the full effect, Remove half the people, make the remaining people white and native american..and you've got a pretty good idea of what went down...




OH. YES. I. DID.

The Best Birthday Present EVER!!

It's official. Let the poop scooping begin.

And YES. This little guy is sporting a big DUBYA on his forhead. Maybe we should we name him George? LOL.

Random Holiday Sniveling

To the INSANELY hammered intoxicated Navajo man in the dollarstore parking lot:
Heckno. I do NOT have any money for you. First off, it's Christmastime, and I am BROKE. And even if I *did* I would certainly not give it to you, because I know you want to buy a "little Christmas cheer" with it, and...seriously? You're going to die of liquor poisoning if you touch another drop. Also, to effectively mooch around these parts, it's often customary to: open. your. eyes. when speaking to a person. Consciousness is usually something I look for in my holiday panhandlers. FYI- you may want to change your pants, because um..you've peed yourself.

To The WALMART Staff, Suppliers, Owners, Etc. :
(disclaimer - this rant applies to my local Walmart)
YOU. SUCK. That's all there is to it. I have never seen so many lazy people in my life. That teenage girl you have working in the fitting department is a LOSER, and if you are paying her for what she's doing, you might as well give me a paycheck for doing NOTHING too. Also - what the heck happened to the great seasonal merchandise you had last year? Seriously. Half an aisle of gift sets and baskets?! Pft. Last year you had THREE AISLES OF STUFF. And on a side note, NOBODY is buying Hannah Montana products anymore. Except maybe nightgowns. Get. Over. Her. You do realize that most of the town has officially declared your store a CRAPHOLE, and they are all bustling around at TARGET as we speak...you do know that....right? OH. and you have what appears to be a dead heavily sedated man in your shoe department.

To The School Office:
My son is NOT sick. He suffers from occasional low blood sugar, and often feels nauseous and light headed if he doesn't eat regularly. He was running late for the bus this morning and dashed out too fast for me to throw a Toaster Strudel at him feed him a proper breakfast. And his silly teacher won't let him grab a "snack" out of his lunchbox to tide him over until lunch. GIVE him a freakin twinkie for jacksakes and stop calling me.

To The General Public:
How hard can it be to find a KITTEN? I mean Bob Barker isn't THAT effective is he?? IS HE?? I have called 50 some-odd places and NOBODY has any kittens. Not even *the pound* has any kittens..What The? GirlyDiva is going to be very annoyed if one of her birthday presents isn't purring through the wrapping paper.

Holiday Sniveling Fin.

**UPDATE**
YES!! Nener Nener Bob Barker. I have found a kitten! Interestingly enough, the girl who WORKS in the Petsmart Adoption department has kittens at home (Job Security?) They are 9 weeks old, an orange and a grey tabby. NOW I just need to PICK one. I hate choosing. Maybe I will take them both.

Oh Crap.

I don't know how it happened. A time warp. Black hole. Early Alzheimers. All I know is that I am having a total panic attack because I just realized, (yes literally just now) CHRISTMAS IS IN 14 DAYS!! AARRGGGG!!! I don't have ONE gift purchased yet. I don't have a single card filled out, much less MAILED. Oh. My. Gawd.

::::::dead faint:::::::

Big Strong Hands

Many of you who used to read my blog, know my childhood was pretty pathetic. Drunk Mother.. Bad influences.. Barely escaped alive.. etc.

I also grew up without a father in my life. There was a strange and blank void where I should have been able to put a face. Most of my friends had fathers. Some of them had awesome fathers. I would jealously watch as they interacting with their dads, watching the relationships, wondering what it must be like. I had a recurring daydream about slipping my tiny hand into a strong fatherly grip, walking alongside a towering figure, knowing that if I happened to stumble, that big strong hand would instantly whisk me up, and gently set me right again. Oh how I longed for that.

As the years passed, I got older and learned to ignore those feelings. Instead I became bitter. I pictured the day when I would tell my father how much I hated him for leaving me all alone to try and survive with a drunk and broken woman that could barely manage standing straight, much less put forth any parenting skills. I pictured a verbal revenge. Scathing, hateful words that would bring him to his knees begging for my fogiveness.

And then....then I found my husband. My dear sweet DysdHubby. And we had children. I began witnessing what a true and tender father really was. Slowly the angry revengeful feelings were replaced once again with those pangs of longing and jealousy that I had felt as child. And yet I know I can't turn back time. My childhood is long over. I have since found my father, but it has been terribly bittersweet. Yes, I have a face to fill in the void. But still, I will never feel the grip of my Daddy holding my hand as I walk alongside him, feeling his loving strength as we walk. But Gosh Darnit. My children will. And somehow that gives me peace.

Of being too noisy

Last night after getting the kids to bed, Dysdhubby and I settled onto the couch for some much needed potato-ing. We decided to watch our latest recorded episode of The Unit. (mighty fine show I might add)

But wait, let me digress a moment to say that Dysd hubby has had raging pneumonia a small cough the last few days.

So as we began watching our show, every few minutes it would creep up on him.. 'hack-hacka-cofcofcof' followed by some interesting throat clearing sounds. After a few of these "coughing interuptions" I grinned big and playfully teased him with "Good grief, you sure are being AWFULLY noisy arenchu?, I am TRYING to watch this show ya-know." He laugh-coughed and we settled back in. And Then..

FWWWAAAARRRPPPYY FWAAAAPPYY FAAAAARP FAAAAAAAARP.

Oh. my. gosh. I ripped one. A BIG LOUD ONE. In fact, somewhere in Canada a cow turned their head in startled amazement.



Myself surprised at the sheer force of it, I quickly donned my "whoa- how did that get in there" face, and looked over at Dysdhubby. Without even glancing in my direction, (and totally deadpan) DysdHubby stated: "seems to me YOU'RE the one with the 'noisy' problem around here."

After another brief moment of silence, we laughed our dysfunctional butts off.