Jell Shots whore...kind of...

This past weekend was somewhat thrilling. I ran a lot, did a lot of things I'm not proud of, but I did not end up in jail.
I had a meeting on Saturday night that messed up my plans to drink, but alas, I had my own special stash of jello shooters I had experimented with. Instead of the plain old vodka ones, I decided to experiment a little.
I made green apple vodka ones in cranberry jello and some raspberry vodka in..you guess it..raspberry jello. Then I doubled them up in a couple of cups and went for it.
Taste sensation?
I don't really know. By the time I'd tried the double ones, I was already well into the emptying the 13th or 14th cup so I have no idea. I can't even tell you if my clothes were still on or not.
But I'm thinking that I can probably experiment with these flavored vodkas and jellos and I'm thinking there might be a kiddie pool involved at some point and my sedated husband.

*GRIN*

Most alcohol doesn't effect me quite the way you'd think but wine makes me naked in a matter of minutes and when the old man comes a whistling up the walk, carrying a bottle of wine, I know he's got plans for the evening...

Eh..so enough about my alcoholism and sex life.

I have plans this week. BIG PLANS! I am going to clean out a closet. It's a relatively small closet at the top of the steps in our house, but I'll be damned if it's not the messiest closet in the house. It's supposed to house my husbands clothing but instead it holds the unwanted Barbies, purses, clothes, dolls, love notes, dried up lip glosses and unmatched shoes that my daughters have discarded.
They cleaned their room several months ago and since most of the time my husband is too lazy to look in the closet for clothing, he was living out of the clothes basket. Then one day, as I was sitting on the front porch enjoying my coffee, I heard a piercing scream from inside the house.
It sounded like he'd castrated himself.
But no...he had only opened his closet in search of a t-shirt.

The girls lived, of course...and while the beatings continue to this day, the closet is still a wreck, because no amount of torture, bribery or otherwise could force either one of them to clean.

Seriously...there are no beatings but writing that just made us sound like hardass parents...you know..the kind that used to make us mind. Back in the good old days. I still have the belt strap scars to prove it. Some people would say they look like stretch marks, but damn it...that wouldn't make me a hardass. Well...I did birth a ten and a half pound baby, naturally of course, but telling people that just upsets me. Most of the time they look shocked, then horrifed. Then their gaze travels to my crotch area and they look at me like I have a vagina the size of a subway. Do they think there are escalators in my pant legs? I just have big thighs for God's sake!!!I've learned to keep quiet about the size of my babies.

I DO KEGALS DAMNIT!!!

When I get older I'm pretty sure I'll probably have bladder problems. As it stands right now, I only piss myself when I'm drinking. But I think everyone does that, don't they?

Oh My God...you can't take me seriously....

I dropped my daughter off to camp yesterday. On one of the forms it asked if there was anyone my child was no allowed to leave camp with.
Anyone huh?
I thought about it and then wrote it down...

George W. Bush...

HAHAHAHA

Hey..I'm honest. Perhaps it'll get me a ride in a black sedan with tinted windows and a body cavity search, but you know..it's been awhile. Those body cavity searches grow on you...really they do..

I have to go. I know it's abrupt and everything but I need to eat. When you get older if you don't eat on time, strange things happen to your body. There's enough stuff happening without pushing it, you know?

*wink*