I have a confession to make

I went to get my hair cut today, by a different lady from last time. Ashley did a great job, incidentally, but that's not my confession. Oh, nooooooo, it can't be some easy, little, teeny-tiny nothing confession. It has to be controversial. Or not. Whatever. It's my confession, so....yeah. Wait for it......



While she's cutting my hair, Ashley leans over in front of me, to check the even-ness of my bangs (yes, I got bangs this time. And not little-girl, or I-am-a-mom bangs, but sexy bangs. Is there even a such thing? If not, I just invented it!), and.....


I totally look down her shirt.


Ack!!! I totally closed my eyes, because Jeez! I really felt like a perv.





And then she bent over again.
Andddddd....I looked again!



It was like when you drive by roadkill, and you.don't.want.to.look, but YOU DO ANYWAY!





And then she bent over again.
Andddddd....you get my drift.



Is that my confession? Well, yeah, but, there's more.



I um, sorta, um, like boobs!!! There! I said it! (whew) Isn't that pitiful??? They are just so, well, pretty! Okay, well not all boobs are pretty, but I'm not talking about the ones that hang down to your belly, or..... again, you get my drift. And it's not like I look at everyone's boobs, so if you are one of my real-life friends (or one of my bloggy friends!), PLEASE don't be worried that I'm checking out your chest!! (What the frick was I thinking, telling you guys this confession???) I've said it before, and I'll say it again-A woman's body is just so much prettier than a guy's (unless it's one of these guys), so can you blame me?



And to avoid this conversation, I'll just tell you know now. The hairstylist did not have Jennifer Love Hewitt boobs. She had more like Shakira boobs.

So. Yeahhhhh. Um. (blushing)

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Thanks for all the suggestions of what to give my hubby for our anniversary. Apparently, the overwhelming response was BLOW JOB , which makes me wonder if my hubby talked to all of you about this shit. But, okay, whatever, I do love him, so I guess.....aw, hell. I'm getting him a ooey-gooey card!

Halp!!!

My 8th wedding anniversary is coming up next week, and I'm at a loss. My husband is one of those people who, besides being a workaholic, buys something if he wants it. So, his birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary are some pretty annoying times for me. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO GET HIM! He's not a lovey-dovey type of person, so pictures, love notes, poems....do nothing for him.
Every year I look at the traditional and modern anniversary gifts suggestions, and I go 'Uhhhhh.....Sonofa----------uhhhhh....!' This year, the traditional gift is bronze or pottery. HA! The modern is linen or lace. Double-HA! (or HA-HA for those of you who need T.H.I.N.G.S S.P.E.L.L.E.D O.U.T) I just can't even think of what the frick I would get him in any of those categories that would not produce a puzzled frown or a fit of giggles.
Every year, I buy him a card. A gooey, syrup-y, sweet card. And we go out to eat. And stare at one another across the table. And? It's torture! Nothing really seems heartfelt. Nothing really says 'I am so glad we have survived another year together.' or 'So glad we still love each other.' I mean, what the hell? I'm fast-approaching his way of looking at this: Wedding anniversaries are just another day geared at making money for businesses, and making men look like asses, like Valentine's Day. If you know me at all, you know I am not that person. I love to show I care for people. I love to take care of people. I love to love people, for Cripe's sake. I am a fucking bleeding heart, lovey-dovey, tree-hugging, sweetpea of a person. No, really.

So, please dear bloggy friends, HALP!!! Men-What, if anything, do you want to be given on your wedding anniversary? Women-What do you buy your hubby?

Help, help, help!!! I'm drowning here! And this time, I can guarantee my bikini top won't be all jacked up when I come up for air this time!

Birthday wishes

[This is my 2nd post of the day, just in case you were wondering. Scroll down for my first fanfuckintastic post.]

Almost 7 years ago, I met Kristy at work. We were in the same unit, and we had 4 offices between us. She was pregnant at the time, with her first child. She was quiet, but appeared sweet. We sat in the little breakroom during lunch, and chatted about cases, and other workers in various offices. It seemed that we had several things in common. She was someone I could go to with questions, and I never felt like I was imposing.
One day, a few months after working together, I mentioned that I was going to a friend's graduation commencement in Lubbock, and she told me that she went to the same school. When I told her the person's name, we found another common thread. She hung out with my friend while in college.

She was the person I called when things were not going well on specific cases, or if I needed advice on how to deal with a child on one of my cases, or if I simply needed to vent. We were both there for each other at work, over and over, when all of our co-workers, and our boss, went home and left us high and dry. We could cry out of frustration in front of one another, with no fear of being made fun of. We went to lunch together, walked together, spent time giggling in court together. We helped each other out, covered each other's asses, and had each other's backs. We were pregnant at the same time, which was fun. She was the first person I told (besides my husband) when I found out I was pregnant.

She is my daughter's godmother. And I couldn't have picked a better person. She loves my daughter as if she were her own. Her sons are both kind and brotherly to my girl. She is the person I call when I'm frustrated about both simple and complex things in my life. She is the person that motivated me, by her own actions, to get my ass back to grad school. We've drank together, we've driven all over the state together, we've worn fake eyelashes together, and it's a toss-up which place is our favorite to eat: Olive Garden, La Madeline, or Mexican Inn. She's loyal, sweet, honest, intelligent, kind-hearted, and very comfortable to be around. I am so thankful to have met her, and so thankful that she shares her family (her 3 boys are just precious, and I secretly hope my daughter marries one of the three someday!), and her life with me!

Happy Birthday Kristy! Thank you for your friendship! I appreciate you!

(Don't ask. I swear we are sober.)

Randomness

Holly thought I was drinking her rum. MP wanted to know what I was smoking. Misty was concerned about the poop. But really, my last post wasn't even me! Tricked ya', didn't we?
Please forward any questions about the validity of the story to Alan over at A Round World Through Square Glasses. Also, check out my guest post over there, where I was truthful and full of ranting, as usual.
I'm not even sure how I found Alan's blog, but I am so glad I did. His insight and opinions not only make me think, but they make me giggle sometimes too. And he's given me some new music to check out. The only thing about Alan is this: He posts at least 3 f-ing blogs a day, if not more! It's maddening! (Heehee-love ya Alan!)

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Guess what I did tonight? I am the most graceful person you know, so just.guess.

Went out to the fridge in the garage to get the hubby a beer. In all my gracefulness, I somehow lost the beer before I ever had my hands on it. And my first thought was "Aw, hell. I'm gonna have to clean glass up all over the floor. " Thankfully, my foot saved me from that.
Because the beer? It landed upside down, directly on my big toe. And bounced. Twice. On the same toe.
I am pretty sure labor pains were not as earth-shattering as the sharp pain in this toe. It's looks like....a large mushroom? I can't bend it. It hurts to walk on my wood floors. It's purple, black, and pain keeps shooting up my leg, after 2 hours. It's lovely. I can't wait to try to squish it into a cute pair of heels later this week. Fan-fuckin-tastic.
Moral of the story? Tell your hubby to get his own damn beer.

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Ike ruined my weekend plans of getting everyone's prizes bought, packaged, and in the mail by Saturday. So, I am working on it! Don't worry-you will get your prizes this week, but Peggy-I'm sorry, but I don't think it will be before you leave for Hawaii (you lucky bitch!)

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And speaking of Ike...did anyone else stay up all night long and watch the coverage of Ike on The Weather Channel? Anyone? No? Just me? Okayyyy. Well, if you were watching, you would have seen the funniest.thing.ever. The reporter in Beaumont, TX was yapping about 75mph winds and shit, and some guy comes out of nowhere, running through the deserted street, and almost busts his ass in a puddle. Then, the guy goes off-screen, only to come back two seconds later, shagging ass right behind the reporter. And that is when I realize-the guy is butt.ass.naked! Thank Bejesus for the power of Tivo!: I rewind, and then put it in slow motion, where I confirm that he is indeed N.E.K.E.D. and um, cold? It was the funniest thing ever, I swear!

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Last, but most certainly not least, my bloggy-friend Misty had wonderful news to share, and somehow, I missed the post (Sorry, Misty!). I am so excited to say that Misty is expecting!!! Go check out her blog, and wish her well. She deserves it.

The Day the Cows Came Home

With all of the hubub over the fence and the cows' interest in wandering off, the hubby and I decided that the best way to keep an eye on them was to bring them into the house. Now, I wasn't so sure of this idea at first, but it seems to be working itself out. But it has sure been a crazy couple of days!

First off, herding them into the house was quite the chore! My husband was outside with his shotgun, hootin' and hollerin' and making all kinds of a ruckus! The neighbors sat out on their porches drinking martinis and eating biscuits while we ran around in the front yard in our overalls yelling at the poor bovines. They must have got a good laugh out of it later, that's for sure! Meanwhile, we finally managed to get the cows in a line and march them through the front door. It sure was a sight, all of those cows and calves marching in!

We made room in the basement and in a spare closet in the bathroom. Needless to say, the cows weren't all that excited to have such a small space in which to spread out, and considering what private animals they are, they definitely need more space! So hubby decided he was gonna build onto the back of the house as soon as I get done with my 42 hours a week of school. I figure if we add on in the back, we'll have more time to party in the front!

But for now we are forced to adjust. So hubby and I are loaning out a closet to 2 of the cows and Betty (who we have named after our neighbor. She ADORES Betty! Maybe a little TOO much...if you know what I mean...). This should enable him to get his sexy on and should cut back on the price of the pay-per-view porn that we rent every week in the privacy of our bedroom. Then we are allowing some of the calves to room with my girl. She seems okay with it...even if the calves are a little messy and have a tendency to spoon a little too much.

The only real issue we seem to have is with the amount of food that these animals consume. It might just make us go bankrupt! God knows its making my shingles flair up again! So we have sat down with Betty and his bevy of lady friends and we are working out a payment plan. We figure, if they were to chip in with maybe $50 per cow, we could pay for everyone to eat AND have a little left over for snacks! Plus...if they were to help on the mortgage payment with a payment of $150 a month, it will help in paying off the addition that we are planning. They seemed a little put off by the whole notion that they should have to contribute. It was OUR idea letting them stay in our home, right? However, after hours of deliberation and much mooing and braying (wait...what's that DONKEY doing in here?!?! Just a second...)

Okay...where was I? Oh yeah...So anyways, they are all set to pay up. They're not happy about it, but we have it written in the contract...so it's all a go.

Anyway...I'm exhausted and my husband is passed out on the couch. My gGirl is playing with a few of the calves in the living room. I think they're watching "Chicken Little" for the 12th time today. Whatever...as long as they get their homework done! I have 8 papers due tomorrow and a geology test on the affects of cow manure in our environment. Should be fascinating stuff! Check in tomorrow and I'll set up a webcam so you can watch all of the cows at play!

And BTW...I was recently nominated for the "Internet Cow Of The Year" award! Several bloggers nominated me and I have accepted! All I can say to this is..."YES"! It's all coming together people! It's all coming together...

Round 2 of the calves

9 long months after the Running of Betty, new calves started arriving. It's amazing to watch a cow give birth. They continue eating, and let out a moo every once in awhile, but all in all, they don't seem too distressed. A couple actually laid down for awhile. Some just kept walking with their calf's leg sticking out of you-know-where. A few days I would come home from work, and scan the property, only to find a little bundle of dark fur curled up along the fence line, or on the dam. They were precious.



However, these babies were not used to human contact. They high-tailed it anytime I went out in the pasture. They didn't want shots. They didn't want feed. They didn't want kisses, or pats, or tags in their ears.



They were however, extremely curious and brave.



At around 1:30am, we heard a knock at the door. We had literally just turned out the lights to go to bed, and we were a little intrigued by who the hell could be at our door. My husband got his gun (yes, the same damn gun), and answered the door.

A guy a couple of years younger than us was standing on our porch. He informed us that due to the fog, he had run into our fence, and high-centered his little car on a patch of hay. The car was actually stuck in the barbed wire.

My husband went outside to inspect the damage, and all the cows and their calves were surrounding the car. My husband helped him get his car out, and then proceeded to fix the barbed wire fence. At 2 in the morning. With the calves breathing down his neck the entire time. He actually had to yell at them to back off!

The next morning, after my husband went to work, someone knocked on our door (no, I didn't grab the gun *shiver*) . A man in business attire informed me that our calves were in the middle of the road, down by the fence that my husband had just fixed. He said he thought it was our dogs, until he got close enough to realize they were calves.

In my pajama pants and a tank top, I walked out to the county road, with this stranger, and proceeded to try to 'round up' these two calves. A rancher stopped to help. And then another man. And then another. It was rather comical, watching us run up and down the length of my property, along the road, trying to get the calves into my front yard. The men tried blocking them off with their vehicles. I tried to coerce them in with some feed. They were not having any of our b.s. They just stood there and looked at us, and if we got too close, they took off running. It was almost like a game. But none of us were laughing.

The entire time? My ladies stood on the other side of the fence, with the remaining calves, with their heads moving back and forth, like they were watching a tennis game. It was humiliating.

After literally 35 minutes, we somehow got the calves in my front yard. I thanked my kind helpers, and then called my husband all embarrassed. Holy shit-I had just ran around outside in a tank top, with no bra on, chasing calves with strange men. Gah.

And the escapees? They stood on my front porch, and cried for their moms.

And the Winnah is...

Before I tell you who won my little PiF contest, I just have to complain for a bit. Because, really, nothing is more important than my little blog, what with all the boring election shit, the war, illnesses, the recession, and your own family shit.
I am saddened by the lack of participation in my PiF contest. Isn't that lame? Not that you 10 people who did enter don't mean anything to me, because you do! I've just noticed the lack of readership lately, and I'm just wondering-Are you not reading me because I don't have time to read and/or comment on your blog right now? And how are you going to answer this asinine question when you aren't reading my blog anyway?? Sigh. Moving on.
Maybe it's because you fear, if you win, that you will have to have your very own PiF contest on your blog, and maybe you just.don't.wanna. Okay, that's fine. I get it.
But you will be sorry for not entering, let me tell you. And that's not a threat, it's just simple truth. Keep reading!!! --

I used the random number generator, which uses atmospheric noise (?????), and.....

The winnah is Just A Girl, with the comment:

just a girl... said...
I would take care of my 5 people in my family. And start something for the homeless.

September 4, 2008 2:17 PM

Just a Girl is a girl after my own heart, let me tell you! If you haven't checked out her blog, you really need to. Like now.

Anyway, to the other nine that entered, I have decided that you all are winnahs in my book, soooooo.....

I'm sending you all something!!! Please email me your address by this Friday, so I can send you a little somethin'-somethin'-- dlwinkler(at)msn(dot)com.

Thanks for playing!! And reading!