Aren't you glad you can finally shut me up?

What is a blog? A place for us to express thoughts, feelings, insecurities out loud. A place to share the trivial details of our day without boring our friends/lovers/families to tears again. A place we can ramble on incessantly and people listen because they choose to. What a great idea. Everybody wants to be heard and sometimes no one listens unless you let them think it's their idea. Works for me!

Saturday a.m. rambling

This computer chair sounds like two baritone mallards dry-humping in a rocking chair. After 2 hours of sleep and a nightmare about Maria Shriver being killed by terrorists I need a coffee more than I need oxygen. The strangest thing was, when I turned on the t.v. this morning there she was promoting something or other. I didn't even have to change the channel. I love it when I do that. But the show/commercial/whatever was boring so I turned it off. What happened to the good Saturday morning cartoons? Am I old? Do kids even do airbands anymore?

And what the hell is John Edward up to? Does he really have entourages of ghosts who happen to travel with the ghosts of the people who are sitting next to their people? Perhaps he has a bug in his ear with someone reading info off a piece of paper and that's why he always tells people to shhh when he's concentrating (with his finger in his ear I might add). But some of the people looked so shocked and/or bewildered I wonder if maybe he hasn't caught them off guard. I mean why would anyone write down the fact that he and his dad secretly chowed down on squirrel...ever? Maybe he has a gift that allows him to read peoples' energies and access things from their psyche. I mean some of these people want to be "read" so bad it pains me to think how they've survived this long without medical supervision. Perhaps, if you were able to see psychic energy, these people would look like Pigpen from the Peanuts gang.

mmmm.. ..coffee goodness

Why am I only able to sleep when there's no possibility of me getting any rest? Last night, the few precious hours of silence I had, I wasted wondering if a person can make their own address labels. Aargh!

My hair hasn't been good since I moved here.

He likes the Samurais he says.

Well of course he does. Who doesn't? When have you ever been in a conversation about something Japanese and had someone come up to you and say "Man I really hate those Samurais!!" I'm willing to bet my shoes- never.

So here I am, baby's asleep, I'm all out of 1% milk and my Mom won't return my calls. When did this become my life? Don't get me wrong, I love being a Mom and staying at home but where's the funny, sexy, spikey haired girl who fits into my pants? Probably still in Victoria having sex in a semi public place after dark. I am no longer Tracy: independent, flirty girl-type person. I am Tracy: small town MOM. I have puke stains on all my shirts and I don't care. As long as it doesn't smell, no problem. What's that?? If I ever drive a stationwagon and coach soccer, shoot me.

Today I was at the health clinic getting Celia immunized and the nurse gave me a postpartum depression screening. Basically I answer a bunch of questions about feeling sad and blahblah. Of course I lied. What do you think they'd do if I told them I cried today telling a story about 2 raccoons? Or that those awful Church of latter day Saints commercials make me dewy? I CRY DURING DISNEY CARTOONS! But I've always done that. I'm just a sap. I believe there are too many self diagnosed "depressed" people. I had a friend who decided she was depressed and got a bunch of antidepressants (they don't work with alcohol you stupid nimrod) and tried to tell me I also was depressed and should get some pills too. Well yeah, I was. I had no money and a shitty job and love life that would give you the screaming meemies! But I knew that that was why I was depressed and no pills were going to fix those things. What they might do is make me not care so much about what was bothering me but how is that fixing anything? Here's a shovel so you can dig yourself a little deeper and bury your head while you're at it. Victims make me SO ANGRY!

Love is a Gentle Whip is just something I read off of my refrigerator. What the hell is that eggy smell in here??