Mel Gibson

I've been slacking.

Deal with it.

I would like to know why the doctors I speak with won't tell me if I am on target for weight gain. It's like they don't want to tell me I am way bigger than I should be. It angers me. I think I am on target and they won't just say yes or no.

I have a confession: Chad and I watch the show "The Bad Girls Club" and we LOVE it. They make me feel so much better about myself. Where do they find these girls? Instead of auditions they just peruse the bars around town looking for the naked chick on the bar stool? Why are they never wearing pants? Why do they get so bent out of shape over being called a bitch? Being called a bitch is like being called cotton candy.

At Thanksgiving my words of wisdom were, "If you poop in it, it's pretty much yours." I was speaking about my home and dogs and their yards, but my friends (mostly Chad) found fault with this logic. I still think it's a good rule of thumb.

I have a hard time understanding the group 3 oh! 3. I like them don't get me wrong, but the one guy looks like Dexter and the other one looks like every manager at The Buckle. It bothers me because my brain can't compute how these two work.

I am sorry I haven't written more lately. Truth is, I am trying to get my Mel Gibson under control. You know that scene in Ghost when Swayze leaves Whoopi Goldberg's body? She's like out of breath and like WTF just happened? Lately, that's been me, but with Mel Gibson coming and going as he pleases. Not so much the drunken racist part, more the fits of incredible rage part.

I've gone full on nesting. I can't find enough things to organize and decorate. I fear I will become like the lady at Joanne Fabrics. I HAVE to tell you about this lady....

Chad and I went in there to get ribbon and the see thru stuff that you find under poofy skirts. We had to wait on this lady buying tacky fabric. Then I got a look at her poor child. She was like 6, and had a perma-picking finger in her nose. She looked at us like she wanted a new set of parents. Her Mom had decided normal clothes for children were for losers. She dressed her daughter in a brown long sleeved shirt, and brown cotton pants. Attached to the ankles and wrists of her outfit were bellbottoms and cuffs made of ruffles with little cowboys all over them. Howdy lil' partner! What on EARTH was this mom thinking? How to ensure my daughter doesn't have a date to the prom? Or, does she have one of those uber tacky houses with a bagillion figurines in the front yard and she ran out of stuff to decorate so she decided her daughter was decorate-able.

That's enough for this post. My next post will be about how pissed I am at 1. Target and 2. toy makers. This sentence was more for me than you. It's to remind me later what I am supposed to be writing about.

I will try to wait until I am full blown Mel Gibson.