Part One of Stuff You didn't Want to Know

Think back to the days when you were sitting in English class watching the clock slowly tick the minutes off before the bell rang and released you from the hell of sitting on a hard plastic chair or in a wooden desk too small for your gangly frame, you know the one...your knees would keep bumping the bottom of the desk only to brush up against the wads of dried bubble gum stuck on the underside which would gross you out and reinforce your hatred for school and stupid bubble gum chewers.

Just as you were about to dash out of class and escape the hallowed halls of tortured pubescent teenaged souls for the weekend your teacher would announce how you had a ten page essay due the following Monday on a novel you hated and said paper was going to be worth 25 percent of your grade.

Remember that feeling?

Remember banging your head against the kitchen table just wishing for death to take you. Or the magic essay fairy to suddenly drop out of the sky and help you deconstruct War And Peace in an articulate and intelligent way.

Oh those were good times. Heh.

I'm sitting here reading all the questions wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into. How the hell do I tie all of my answers into a witty and articulate post?

Then I remembered, I'm not in English class anymore, this isn't worth the e-paper it's printed on and I can find my magic fairy whenever I hide in the pantry and pour her out of a bottle of nice red.


To hell with witty and articulate. I'm just gonna answer as many questions as I can before my fingers get tired or my dog threatens to poop on the floor.

I'll start with Renee's question "Where is the woman with our answers??????"

Simply put, I was stuck in a ditch for most of yesterday. In what was supposed to be a simple trip to town to pick up some pain meds, a bottle of coke and a head of lettuce, turned out to be a trial of public humiliation, patience and utter mortification.

Oh ya. Good times. See, it's raining here. Pouring. Which is great. This means I don't have to wrestle with the 600 meter firehose my husband has set up for me from our dug out to water my garden. (The damn thing is a pain in my ass and I almost always end up showering myself with dirty water from the pond while trying to water the raspberries.)

Anyways, since the heavens opened up, the roads are muddy. I live out in the middle of nowhere where all the roads are gravel. There is a stretch of road that is particularly poor as the jackasses who run my county are in the process of widening it.

Driving this patch of road reminds me of the times when my dad used to spread a sheet of plastic out on the lawn, turn on the sprinkler and squirt dish soap on it so we could slip and slide in merriment on a hot summer day.

I managed to slip and slide my car into a gently sloped ditch, landing not twelve inches from the edge of a very steep slough. I wasn't very merry about it.

Oh, and a special thank you to all the asshats who didn't stop to see if I was alright and to all of those who did stop but then tell me they'd like to help but they didn't want to get muddy. Thanks. There is a special place in my blackened heart where I will forever cherish you all.

So I spent a good part of the day trying to undig my car from a bog hole while waiting for my Saviour, also known as Cowboy to pull my sorry ass and the carcass of my car onto the road where I could slip and slide back home.

Once Cowboy stopped laughing and helped me, I spent the remainder of the day on the phone trying to get a quote on replacing my damaged bumper and a new set of tires. Preferably ones that aren't bald.

Then I drank a bottle of red, curled up on the couch and stabbed hot pokers in my eye when I realized the only thing on television was American Idol.

Gooooood times.

J from Ireland wants to know "are you this funny in real life, do all your friends piss themselves laughing at your stories?"

Well, Cowboy sure did as he stood there scratching his head wondering how on earth I managed to find myself almost swimming to the shoreline yesterday. I distinctly recall hearing a belly laugh and a few colorful words about women drivers.

While I'm no stand-up comedian, I do have a knack at well-placed one liners and have been known to bring on the giggles every now and then.

But as my best friend so delightfully puts it, most of my loved ones spend more time laughing at me than with me.

Lisa wants to know "if the bullying has stopped at your daughters school?"

Yes. Kinda. How's that for articulate? I had a big meeting with the principal (again) and I pop into Fric's class once or twice a week just to do a mommy spot check, but so far things have kinda died down.

However, grade seven will soon begin and I predict future flare ups. Kinda like fighting with hemorrhoids. You never know when they'll pop up but you know they'll never really go away.

Menapausalmama wants to know if I "ever velcro the spawn to the wall in their bedrooms, lock the door, then go outside, drink some wine and listen to them scream?"

Er, no. Heh. But thanks for the idea. Snicker. However, I have been known to kick them outsides on their lilly white backsides, toss their shoes out after them along with a bottle of water and then lock the door. This way they are forced to play outside and I'm forced to sit and blog in peace.

I only like to do this when it's nice out though. The authorities don't like it when I do this if the weather is inclement.

Colleen would like to know "what your hubby does for a living that keeps him away from home for days at a time."

Boo is a man of many talents. Trust me. Wink, wink. He grew up a farm boy and graduated into a full-fledged multi-ticketed tradesman. He currently works up in the oilsands as a foreman for some big oil company. If he were answering this, he'd tell you he is a saving the world one paycheck at a time.

Since it's me, and I'm much more honest than he is, I'll tell you he generally stands around bossing his monkeys around while drinking coffee and playing solitaire on the computer and harassing me with dirty text messages. He gets paid handsomely for this too.

Bri asks "how many tattoos/piercings you are currently sporting and if there are any you are still dreaming of getting when husband is out of town?"

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Well Bri, counting the nose ring, two in each ear, my princess sparkle boobs and one strategically more southern, ahem, I have eight piercings. More than enough. Although, I do like the idea of an eyebrow piercing, my husband has threatened divorce if I 'desecrate my face' with more holes.

Since I'm a kept woman, and a lazy one to boot, I'll defer to his wishes. On the piercing issue. My ink, however, is a different story. I currently only have three on my body but I'm FOR SURE getting two more. One is still in the planning stage and the other I'm just waiting for the right moment.

I'm planning on getting "BOO'S BITCH" tattooed on my left ass cheek. Cuz how romantic would that be?


The lovely Mac N' Cheese wants to know "the secret to maintaining a hot and heavy sex life with a man you have been with since your teen years?"

Well darling, I do believe the tatties and the piercings help. So do the dirty text messages. And booze. Lots of booze. Wink, wink.

I mean, of course it's easy to be hot and horny for the love of my life. He's completes me.


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The reality is our sex life is far from hot and heavy since he's gone most of the time. BUT by the time he gets home we are both so happy to see the other that we have forgotten about our ability to annoy one another thus making it much easier to get our frisk on. Heh.

Lastly, Dirkey wants to know "if Fric and Frac know about the web site."

Why yes they do. They like to tell their friends their mother is an internet porn star though, instead of a blogger.

A better question would be, do I allow them to read it? Over my dead body. Or at least until I'm no longer able to sit on them and hold them down with my body weight. Until then, they won't read it.

But they really aren't overly interested in what I have to say. Neither of them think my blogging is important. After all, I'm not exactly blathering on about Guitar Hero or Harry Potter, so why would anything I say be of any interest to them?

Thanks for all the questions. There are a few questions I plan on answering in depth, but for today, this will have to suffice. My dog needs to go potty.

I'll be back tomorrow (barring any more unforeseen vehicular accidents) with more answers. Meanwhile, if you haven't voted in my online poll about my template, go click a button. It's fun. I promise.