Susie Fucking Home-maker

FUCK! I'm having an identity crisis right now. I'm not working. Which means that I am home. Which means that I'm not gonna pay for day care for the 3 year old… Which means that I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF A 3 YEAR OLD, ALL DAY, ALL BY MY SELF. It also means that I'm spending a lot of time doing things like laundry which I hate love, dishes make me want to kill myself so happy, and just generally cleaning, cooking, and bein the bitch. *Joy* I have an all new respect for those crazy (I mean *awesome*) people who actually want to be at home all day watching Yo Gabba Gabba and singing songs like There's a Party in my Tummy!. Now don't get me wrong, I love my kids with my entire being, it's just that sometimes I wanna duct tape them to something.

In case you haven't noticed, I've also spent a lot of time looking up random shit on the internet. The problem is, I can't look up the kind of stuff that I wanna because what if Jeremy randomly looked at the history on my laptop and noticed that I was looking up "gay+dog+clown+sex" on Bing? How would I explain myself? I couldn't. That's the point. And then the jig would be up. I would no longer be "D, my girl friend who is only kinda crazy sometimes, like when she's on her period", I would be "D, my ex girlfriend that I had committed to a psych ward to give me time to pack my shit, because this chick is FUCKING NUTS". But come ON, who doesn't want to see gay dog clown sex? Exactly.

With all of this internet time, I've also spent a lot of the last few days on the Facebook. Playing with apps. Back when I had a life, I scoffed at apps. I was all "Why the fuck would I want to pretend to have a farm?" or "Why the fuck would I care about being a Mafia Boss?". NOW however I spend all of my time harassing my friends to JOIN MY DAMN FARMVILLE BECAUSE I NEED TO UPGRADE TO A 18x18 SIZED PLOT. So I can plant more shit. And make more money. I currently have 35,761 dollars in Farmville, which is approximately 35,760 more than I have in real life. You don't even wanna know how much I have in Mafia Wars. I'll give you a hint. I'm rich bitch. I could buy you. And your mom. Losers.

0_o

My name is D, and I'm a football widow

Football Widow:
N. A woman who must cope with the temporary death of her relationship during football games.
Nothing will draw Stanley away from the TV on Sunday. Jill realized she's become a football widow.

So it's official... Preseason has started. Last year I didn't fully understand the gravity of my football related situation because, let's face it, Jeremy and I weren't living together and I just had to sit through the Sunday night games. Granted, I should have realized that something was up when I would call on Monday and our conversation would go something like this:
Me: Hey baby, how was your day?
Him: *grunt* GIANTS!!! *grunt*
Me: Really? Well you'd never guess what happened today, Olivia chopped her teachers hand off with a rusty hatchet and I'm being sued for $5,000,000.
Him: *grunt* DEFENSE!!! *grunt*

Yeeeeeaaaaaaah. And as I've recently learned, the end of Baseball season coincides with the start of Football. Baseball I can deal with. I love baseball. It brings back warm fuzzy memories of my childhood. So now not only do I have to deal with baseball games, but football as well. He is currently flipping back and forth between the Yanks/Boston game and some preseason football thinggy. I on the other hand have manages to finish my math work and am currently writing this blog while listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees, quietly, and with headphones. But that's apparently not good enough, because he just blared the TV in an oh-so-subtle hint that he *might* not be able to hear every teeny tiny call because he can *kind of* hear Hong Kong Garden. Right...

So I have to decide whether or not I'm going to let football steal my man without putting up a fight. I'm thinking not. Last year I tried to just sit next to him on the couch while he watched the game. I would quietly crochet or read but ever 5 seconds he would pound on my shoulder and tell me that I HAD to watch some life altering play. Let me tell you now that the only thing I equate with Hail Marys are my barely repressed memories of Catholic School. *Shudders* I know nothing about football. Which means one thing to me. Now I must find a book. A book! I can deal with books! Apparently there are a million books meant to help girls like me. Most are written by women in an attempt to help us reclaim our mates. If you know of one personally, LET ME KNOW! Because apparently I'm even lost when it comes to football related books. First down? Is that different from a touchdown? And what's with those stupid dances that they do when they get to that painted bit of grass? *At this point I'm wondering how I survived a childhood in TEXAS*

(On a side note, I was just told I can't use a graphic that I found. Wanna know why? BECAUSE THE GUY ISN'T WEARING A GIANTS JERSEY. REALLY?!)

Anyways. I think I'm coming down with a football migraine. I'm going to go do something. Like hang myself.

Math should be illegal.

So... I hate math. Which would be fine, IF I was still pursuing my degree in Criminal Justice. Because you have to do like 2 math classes the ENTIRE time you are getting your BSCJ. Unfortunately, I am NOT getting my degree in CJ anymore. I am now in Business Administration. Yeah. I have six math classes from now until 9/25/2010. For those of you who don't read so well that's 6. I've been fortunate in that so far, I've skated through. I'm currently on the Chancellor's list. That's good, hell, that's great. Now because of my new math class that is KICKING MY ASS, I'll be lucky to be on any list at all. On another note, my English Comp professor refuses to give me full marks on anything. He says things like "I love your writing style" and "I can't wait to read this finished draft". Not once have I ever even gotten a criticism from him. But still I can't get a full 100%. He knocks just enough off to still keep me in the A range. Why yes, yes I am bitching. But I'm allowed. O_o

On a completely different note, while I'm not overly fond of Kate Gosselin, I hate Jon more.

I'm back, and if possible, crazier than ever.

OK, so once upon a time I had a blog but wordpress sucks, so I came over to the dark side (hey, they have cookies!) and am now at my handy new address. It's been a while since I've posted, and I figure that now is as good a time as any to get back on track, especially since all I seem to be doing anyways is messing around on the interwebz.
So to catch you up on my life:

• Still just 3 kids (just?!)
• Still in Charlotte
• Still HATING Charlotte, and North Carolina in general
• Still with Jeremy (aka Superman)
• Still just a grumpy bitch

Summer is almost over now, even though it feels like it's just barely begun. I haven't gotten nearly as much time in the sun as I've anticipated but that's mostly just because I have become a hermit. The kids are crazy, and doing wonderfully. Alex will be going into 3rd grade and Robby starts Kindergarten. Livi is pretty pissed that she's still having to do the day care thing, but as much as it pains me to say this, I cannot always give her what she wants.

Superman seems to have found his niche, and likes his job pretty well. I hate the hours (5:30 AM to 1:30 PM) but at least it's M-F and I get the weekends with his handsome ass. Things between us are going well (and by well I mean that neither of us has managed to kill the other... yet). We head up to PA on the 13 and will be staying until the 16. That is unless I can convince Jeremy that we just need to stay there, and our apartment/stuff/jobs/etc be damned. Don't really think that is going to happen. Needless to say, it will be interesting to see what happens while we are up there. Jeremy has only met Audrey (and she was REALLY behaving at that time). We have a few plans already but I'm hoping to mostly just wing it. All that really matters is that I spend some time with the love of my life, in the company of my friends, and with a REAL Philly Cheesesteak. I plan on not eating from right now until we get there, because I've got the feeling that I'm gonna gain like eight gabillion pounds while we are there, and that is just not acceptable. Of course, I could NOT eat my weight in fattening foods while I am there... I could... But I wont. Where would the fun be in that? Exactly.

School is school. I changed my major from Criminal Justice to Bid'ness. Mostly because after the recent events of my life, I no longer feel the need to be part of a corrupt and unjust system. So now we are thinking that we wanna own a repo business. Have you ever seen that show called "Operation Repo" with the very large, very scary, goth Hispanic lady? Yeah I wanna be her. But still me (ie not large, scary, goth or Hispanic). Woot.

This entire post was really me just procrastinating, because I have 2 assignments due tomorrow, that I haven't started on. So I think I'm gonna go do that... Either that, or read a book... Prolly the book one.