Beyonce=Baby Jesus Santa Claus

You guys.  How badass is Beyonce?  Seriously, I wonder if Lady Gaga and Katy Perry and Christina and Britney and MADONNA woke up this morning are were like "Damn.  When I grow up, I want to be Beyonce."

Do you know what the baddest bitch in all the world went and did?  She released an album yesterday.  At MIDNIGHT.  AND NOBODY KNEW IT WAS COMING!!!!!  Sorry to get capsy but this is a big fucking deal.  She didn't hype it up with teasers and trailers and interviews for a month, dropping singles for radio play to get excited.  She is so badass that she dropped her new album on a random Thursday night at midnight.  I woke up this morning and when I read the news, it was like Santa and Baby Jesus came together and make a sparkle baby and named her BEYONCE.  Literally my head and heart exploded with glittery joy.

And guess what else??  She released videos for EVERY FUCKING SONG.  Every. Song.  And no one knew it was coming.  I know I am repeating myself but OMG she is the Queen of EVERYTHING!!

And guess what ELSE????  Beyonce brought out her inner slut on this one because some of the songs and videos are downright drrrty and you KNOW I like that!

So I hope my family doesn't mind that instead of "Jingle Bells" and "Winter Wonderland", we will be jamming to "Yonce" and "Partition" and "Blow" this holiday season, courtesy of Baby Jesus Santa Claus Beyonce.

Ho, ho, ho!!!

SD

PS-And guess who is SEEING Beyonce on Wednesday???  Your girl.  And I thought I was excited before! Now I'm more like

Go Fuck Yourself, Elf on a Shelf.

I hope everyone had a tasty, delightful Thanksgiving.  As we spent several days at my in-laws house, mine was more tipsy AND tasty, but whatevs. It was good and I felt thankful for a few days off.  By Black Friday I was crawling up the walls and decided to hit the mall for some relaxing "me time."  I wasn't one of those crazies who goes to the mall at 3 AM or anything.  I was just driven out by NECESSITY at 10:30 AM because my mother-in-law and HER mother were kinda making me insane and they might think I have a problem if I popped a bottle of Cab Sav before lunch.  (Some people are SO judgy about shit like that.)  So I get to the mall with relative ease, but it's so fucking crowded that after about ten minutes I felt like:

Anyway-while I was at the mall, I made the executive decision that this would be the year that we introduce the holiday phenomenon known as "Elf on the Shelf" to our family.  I'm pretty sure everyone knows what that is but just in case, here's a summary:  It's a tiny little elf doll that you're supposed to let your kid name and then "hide" each night and then find each morning. Like a fun little goodie hunt each morning!  I think it's supposed to encourage/scare the shit out of them into behaving like decent children. Almost every mother I know with littler kids does this and thinks it's awesome (for the kids) and the worst (for the moms who have to remember to move the fucker each night.)  Some moms LOVE THIS SHIT.  Like they post on Facebook about all of the hilarious shenanigans their little elf friends get into each night!  For real.  PEOPLE DO THIS.

For example, here's darling little Chippy the Elf making snow angels from mommy's flour!  HOW FUCKING CUTE, RIGHT??!!!

Oh, Chippy, you're such a little scamp!  Well guess what?  That mommy has to clean up the fucking flour you used to make your fucking snow angel, so you know what I say?  GO FUCK YOURSELF, CHIPPY!

Or this?  Check out this clever little Elf who tried to help with making crafts and got all tied up!  Silly little Elf friend!  What a pip!

Hey!  How about this, little Crafty Elf?!  STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MOMMY'S CRAFT BOX AND STOP MAKING MESSES FOR MOMMY TO CLEAN UP, YOU ASSHOLE.  

And finally, this.  Look at how fucking ADORABLE Snowflake the Elf is?!  He made a rope ladder out of dirty laundry to climb downstairs with!  WHAT A CLEVER LITTLE FUCKER!  

I HATE YOU SNOWFLAKE.  I HOPE YOU PLUMMET TO YOUR DEATH AND THE CAT EATS YOU.

Seriously.  I could go on and on and on about these kinds of pictures.  But I won't because sadly, a ton of these things show up in the FB feed on the daily.  Which means I actually KNOW people who do this shit, so really, who's judging whom?  

Anyway.  So I decide to jump on this fucked up Elf train, but not in a crazy way as displayed above.  More in a "Oh, hey.  Yesterday Elfie was in the dining room laying on a table and look!  Today, he's in the LIVING ROOM laying on a table!  What a crazy Elf!"  And really, I thought Mini SD would LOVE it and that's reason enough for me to do a lot of things.  So I decided to get one for her.  A girl one, specifically, because homegirl is into all things girly.  And guess what?  It took me two days and five stores to find a girl Elf on the Shelf?  But I found her, bought her, and even bought her a little sparkly skirt, because here's a fun fact:  The girl Elf looks EXACTLY like the boy Elf, except she has some lashes and tiny painted on earrings you can't even see.  So at a glance, with her short bowl hair cut and weird, spider-like arms and legs, you can't tell she's a fucking girl.  So I paid the extra money to get the fucking sparkly skirt, because I knew Mini would love it and what's ten bucks for a month of enchantment?!  Right?

So we get home from being away for Thanksgiving and while Mini was downstairs, I set up the lady Elf and the accompany book on Mini's bed, thinking she will see it eventually.  Which she does when I peel her away from the third episode of "Jessie" in a row and make up an excuse for her to go into her room. (Sidenote-"Jessie" is a Disney show about a 20-something nanny who works for a rich family in NYC with a gaggle of adorable, adopted children of all races and such.  WHO ARE ALL ASSHOLES.  But Mini loves it and after a long drive filled with the dulcet tones of her whining, I love an hour of not hearing her complain.  MOTHER OF THE YEAR OVER HERE!-End of sidenote)

So Mini goes into her room and is all quite for a minute.  And then she freaks out (in a good way) and calls us in to see the Elf.  OMG!  An ELF came to visit her!  Let's read the story RIGHT NOW!  (which we do). Mini is PSYCHED.  Then she names her "Sparkle", which clearly makes my heart jizzum rainbows and unicorns because it's the cutest thing, EVER.  She learns the rules about "Sparkle the Elf" as put forth in the book.  You can't touch it, it can't talk to you, but it watches everything you do and reports back to Santa every night with a report about how good or bad you've been.  And then in the morning, we get to go find Sparkle all over again and the cycle repeats.  Holiday fun for everyone, right!?

Well.  Let me tell you friends.  Sparkle, and all of her freakish Elf friends can go FUCK THEMSELVES.  Because guess what?  Mini started thinking about the logistics of Sparkle and something crazy happened.  She FREAKED out.  (and NOT in the good way).  Despite having moved "Sparkle" before bedtime, Mini started crying two minutes after I left her room after putting her to bed.  Here is something to know about my girl.  She NEVER calls me back in when we are at home.  I sing her the songs, give her the cuddles and it's lights out for her and Wine time for me.  That night, Mini called me back in FIVE FUCKING TIMES, worried about fucking Sparkle the elf and her "scary, mean eyes."  We had to promise we called Santa to tell him not to send that whore Sparkle back, ever again.  I had to pinkie promise that we had already called Santa and that she wouldn't see Sparkle in the morning, any morning, EVER.  This went on for an HOUR.  An HOUR.  After a long weekend with in-laws, traffic, and too many drinks, when all I wanted to do was curl up with my glass and watch "Homeland", I am dealing with this shit?!  

NO MA'AM.  So after Mini finally settled down, I packed up that asshole Sparkle and sent her back to the North Pole (aka, Mister's truck) for a long winters break, never to be seen again.  Mini STILL asks every night if  "that scary Elf" is coming back  So for those of you who are doing Elf on a Shelf?  More power to you.  I assume it's not giving your kid nightmares like mine.  

Fucking Elf.  Go fuck yourself. 

Ho, ho, ho,

SD

Golden Girls

So hey lovers.  It's been a while.  And if I'm being honest, I am writing this post WHILE IN CLASS.  So based on how much I pay for this mutha, I am writing at about $100 per word.  Anyway.  For some reason today, I was thinking about friendship.  I blame my crazy old friend Cecil, who for some reason posts things that make me feel schmoopy about girlfriends like nothing else.  I recently I had a convo about girlfriends with one of my besties- and how they evolve over the years.  And I've come to the conclusion that in the area of best girlfriends, I am one lucky bitch.

Here's the thing.  When I was a little girl, I had a BFF.  She grew up next to me, we shared everything (clothes, lockers, boyfriends), had sleepovers, covered for each other when we were bad.  She was MY PERSON.  This continued into our 20's and she became my maid of honor, as I was hers.  It was something we had pinky promised on when we were like 17 or something so obviously this made sense at this time.  Here's where it breaks down.  As girls, we are conditioned to think that we need "BFF's."  Like we can't be fully happy or complete without one.  The problem with this, at least in my case, is that my "person", my "BFF" was pretty shitty.   She was selfish about my wedding, and actually got in a fight with me afterwards for not considering her feelings more when my other friends were involved.  WTF?  Seriously?!

Here's the thing.  I got over it because for some reason, I was completely sentimental about my childhood friend.  In ways that I am not sentimental about anyone else.  And though I have gotten over it, and have not talked to her in years, I still think about her every day and think about how to reconnect with her.  How pathetic is that?!  I can normally get over shit in a second.  And yet when I think about my friend I've know since I was nine, I get all kinds of sad.  Which makes me feel a little….

Because I can get over all other boys and all other friends, but this girl makes me feel a little sad?  Fuck her!

And then I had an epiphany.  Guess what?  I have a good number of really, really, good friends.  Like girls that would do anything for me and love me just the way I am (like my lover Bruno Mars says).  So how fucking lucky am I??  I have friends, from college and mostly from beyond, who know me as I am , as a slightly wonky, sparkly 36 year old mother and wife, and fucking LOVE me.  Just as I love them.  And the fact that I have a small group of these Golden Girls is the BEST GIFT EVER.  Like God looked down on me and was like "for the most part, you're fucked, SD, but I am going to bless you with a tribe of ladies who know you and get you and maybe that will get you to see the light."  Well, to this I say, "PRAISE JESUS."

For real.  My tribe keeps me going, keeps me smiling, and keeps my crazy ass grounded.  It's a small tribe of Golden Girls.  People who I thought were ride or die chicks have fallen off.  But my girls who remain, who I talk to and text with and email with all the time, know who they are and know that they keep me going.  I couldn't stay sane without my Slizzards, and Teenies, and Smashes, and Tiny N's, Georgia Peaches and Ginger Spices.   They might not know it all of the time, but this is my love note to them to tell them that they complete me.  And knowing I have this small tribe, who has my back and front and can handle my crazy no matter what?  That is kinda like this:

So this is a love note to those girls who didn't fall off the grid, who know me as I am now and still think I'm the shit, and who I love like the sisters I wish I had.  I can't wait for our crazy old lady apartment in a retirement community in Miami.  I call dibs on being Blanche.  Love you girls.

LYLAS,

SD

Mommie Dearest

Hello my long lost friends!  I'm sorry that I punted this blog for so long but it was a long and busy summer.  And this will be a long and busy fall as well, but I'm going to try to do better about throwing out some sparkle.  So I have had a ton of post ideas (never while I'm at my computer) that were obviously hilarious and witty, that I kept thinking I would get to and didn't.  But rather than get hung up on those, or catch you up on the many ridiculous things that happened to me since I last wrote, I am just pushing ahead and starting with the latest.  Perhaps some day I will delight you tales of my reinvigorated Mini-SD stalker tendencies and why Tumblr might be the best thing that has ever happened to my marriage.  (for real)

Anyway-on to the latest evidence that I might be the worst mother ever.  So yesterday, as usual, I am running late for work, and Mini is dragging her ass getting ready for school.  (Side note: She is in big girl school now and I fucking LOVE that she has to wear a uniform and we no longer have to fight about the fact that she can't wear her favorite "sparkly shirt" every goddamned day!!!)

So I'm late, and Mini is ignoring my repeated requests to put her shoes on because she is mezmerized by the latest episode of Sofia that she has already watched 50 fucking times.  (Seriously Sofia-just throw a normal tea party like the poor folk do and ignore your stuck up bitch of a sister Amber!)  As I am running around, trying to get out the door, she just stands in front of the TV with one sock on and holding her fucking shoes. As I yell and turn the TV off, she finally snaps to and puts her fucking shoes on.  And then, the last part of our morning routine-Mommy has to do Mini's hair.  It's a battle every day.  "You're hurting my head!  I want a hairband, not a pony!  I want the pink bow not the purple one!"  Seriously-I want to punch myself in the face every morning when we go through this.

But yesterday-as she's getting teary because I turned off Sofia, she looks at me and says "Mommy, I want braids in my hair today."  To which I say, "Mini.  We don't have time for braids.  Mommy is late."  Of course this makes me a terrible mother and she starts crying because I "PROMISED" to do braids like her new friend wears.  (I did-but tell me why the fuck she remembers the little shit like that, but forgets important things like wiping after she pees and using a fork to eat salad?)  So then, I'm like "FINE, Mini.  FINE.  I'll do braids!"  I reach for the hair brush that is always in the same spot, with all of her ponytail holders on the handle so that when I am running late, they are right there.  Except.  What's this?!  I see the brush but the dozen or so pony holders are no where to be found!  So I throw down the brush and say "Mini!!  Where are all of your ponies?!" in a voice that perhaps is a wee bit harsh.  Maybe in a tone more along the lines of:

At this point, Mister steps in and is all "It's okay, Mini. I'll go get the ponys!" and dashes upstairs where Mini has told us she put them in her "special treasures drawer."  So I'm brushing Mini's hair, trying not to pound her head with the brush as she is crying.  Super Daddy comes down with the ponys and hands them to me with a look like "It's okay babe, I got this!"  To which I respond with a look like:

Literally-that is what did behind my four year old daughters back.  And then when I am trying to do the fucking braids, and Mini is still fucking crying, Mister says "It's okay Mini.  Mommy isn't mad at you, right Mommy?"    FUCK YOU DUDE.  Yes, I am mad!  But I'm a mediocre parent-not a REALLY bad one, so I say "No, Mini.  Mommy isn't mad.  Mommy just doesn't have time TO DO A FUCKING BRAID!" Word for word, honest to God, that is what I said out loud.  So Mini is still crying and Mister is like "Maybe you should just take a deep breath, okay Sparkle? Maybe?"  And I'm all like

So the braids are done, we head to school and just to fully drill down the point, I alternate between giving her dirty looks every time she pouts at me, and sternly telling her (again and again and again) that if she doesn't listen to me from now on she is never watching TV AGAIN.  Like ever.  So the car ride looked a little like this:

Of course, as soon as I drop Mini off with a "I still love you, have a nice day." I feel like shit.  The guilt train literally runs me over all day long.  And the fact that I wouldn't get to make it up to her at all until today because had my grad school class that night made me feel even more like an asshole.  I even emailed Mini's teachers to ask them to "Give her a hug from Mommy."  Seriously you guys-what the fuck is wrong with me?  I'm the worst. mother. ever.

And you you want to know the saddest part?  This morning, Mini was so excited to show me a "beautiful surprise" that she made for me last night when I was in class.  She was so cute in her little nightgown, holding my hand down the stairs and telling me not to peek at the "beautiful surprise."  Guess what it was???  

Every fucking pony in the house on the handle of her brush.  

Mister said while I was in class, she worked so hard to find all of them and put them back on the handle of the brush "because it would make Mommy so happy."  Seriously, I am a terrible, terrible mother.  I gave Mini a huge hug and choked on my tears of guilt and failure as a mother.

And then?  She did it all over again this morning.  Little non-listening, Sofia Zombie asshole!  But today, I didn't lose my shit and turn into Mommie Dearest.  I kept my cool and prodded her along firmly and gently, like a good mother.  But tonight after she goes to bed??

No Wire Hangers EVER in my house, bitches.
SD

Happy, happy Friday.

I just listened to this song, without any sense of annoyance or irony, which I often feel when hearing songs that have been overplayed and played out in every way.  It's been ages since this song genuinely made me feel giddy.  Something must be wrong with me.  OR.  It's going to be a bomb ass weekend and my inner sparkle is telling me to lighten up and enjoy the last fleeting days of summer!  I choose the latter.  

Fucking Emojis

Emojis make me uncomfortable.  Who the hell kind of teenage ninja geishas think of these fucking things?  Just say your words.  Like a big girl.   Say your words and say what you mean.

Fucking Emojis.

The Awful Truth

I've had a revelation within the past week.  I realized something about myself that I am ashamed and embarrassed to admit, but will do it anyway, because the three friends of mine that read this thing will appreciate it and probably laugh at me (not WITH me) because it is so out of my sparkle box that it's humiliating.

I'm a fucking stalker-mom.  For real.  I didn't realize it until my little one started camp at the school I work at, but it turns out, I am not as cool as I thought I was as a mother.  Mini SD has gone to pre-school here since she was four months old, and like most moms, I love to catch little glimpses of her while I am out and about during the work day.  When she was a baby, I used to go visit her, like most moms do.  However, about the time she turned 2 and realized I am the best thing in her life (for now) she would get super happy to see me and then weep like a baby when I left, leaving me to slink out of the room with the teachers cursing me under their breath.  So I stopped doing that and only popped in for birthdays, because I don't want to be THAT asshole parent.

So anyway, for the past week and a half, Mini has been in a camp in my building.  We come in each morning, she plays in my office and then I walk her out to camp.  The first few days she clung to me like a desperate ex-boyfriend.  By the third day though, she was skipping in without looking back.  SCORE! I thought she would warm up to it because three of her other friends were there. I was feeling like a champion mom for having gotten her through the first two days so she could feel confident going in to camp with all of these big kids.  Because in my eyes-camp was scary for her!  She had to navigate the big cafeteria and carry her food AND her water-ALL BY HERSELF.  She had to speak up when one of her little asshole friends was pushing her around-FRIGHTENING!

How do I know she had to do all of this?  Because I'm a fucking stalker-mom.  My office has a huge window that looks into the cafeteria where this all goes down.  So every day, for the past seven days, I peek out my window and watch her to make sure she's okay. I watch her try to walk around the big kids and not spill her water or her lunch plate while she tries to find her friends. I witnessed some little four year old bitch mean girl my Mini and it took all of my will power not to go out there and knock that ho off her chair.  (yes, that ho was four years old, but whatever).  And I made the decision to send her to camp again this week because I thought it would be good for her to come when none of her pre-school friends were here, to make new friends and gain MORE confidence.  I thought it would be good for her (and for me).  As it turns out, it has been good for her and AWFUL for me.  The first day when she didn't know anyone and kept to herself at snack, I wanted to weep.  Even though, she was fine and made new little friends by lunch.  How do I know she made new friends?  BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING STALKER-MOM!!!  I continue to peep out at her every chance I can-including when they go outside to run through the sprinklers.  She's gotten in the habit of looking over at my window and waving now, every time she's in the cafeteria.  How fucking humiliating!  I'm sure the teachers are like WHAT THE FUCK?! because I'm not just some anonymous crazy mom.  I'm one of their colleagues!  Someone who is known to be pretty laid back and fun!  And here I am being a fucking creepy peeper on my own child, in a very un-cool way.  Eventually, Mini will catch on that what I am doing is embarrassing and disown me.  I'm sure of it.  I hope it's not until she's much older and on the pill, or at least until I'm finished with grad school and can afford therapy, but at this point that seems unlikely.

I honestly did not anticipate that I would be this kind of mom.  I thought I would be so laid back, letting my kid get some scraped knees and learn to be a strong independent woman.  I did not think I would need spy on her to make sure she smiles at least twice during both snack and lunch to focus on my day.  I may have been more likely to believe that  I will wear khaki chinos and flats on a regular basis some day.  (NEVER) Maybe it's because of all of the "your kid might end up working the day shift at Scores one day because she won't trace an 'A'" drama in the fall?  I don't know.  I do know that this experience has truly been a horrific, eye-opening exercise in self-actualization.

The good news is that there is only three more days of camp to go.  Three more days until she is back in the other building, where I can't see and stalk her like it's my job and go back to focusing on my ACTUAL job full time.

The better news is that at least I'm not a helicopter parent or a tiger mom because THOSE bitches are crazy!!

SD

A Pretty Lady

So I went to get waxed today.  I hate doing it but I love the finished product that usually lasts me for at least 4 weeks.  Have you guys been waxed before?  I don't mean eyebrows either.  I'm talking about your precious lady bits.  I do it fairly regularly, and always (at least for the past 5 years) go Brazilian style, because, why not?  

Anyway, if you have been waxed downtown before, you know if is not a comfortable experience.  It hurts like a muthafucka, and can be a little awkward due to the yoga -type positions you are forced to get in without any drawers on.   And if you've ever had a guy do it, all I have to say is WHAT??!!  Usually my parts are pretty angry at me for at least a day.  I can't say I blame them.  Pouring hot wax on them and then ripping it out violently?  Pretty wicked stuff.  I always try to act like it only merely pinches a bit, because for some reason I don't want the waxer to feel bad. So I lay on the table, in a position I only get in for my OB/GYN, when the nice waxer lady says, "See we're almost done!  Not so bad, right?" I'm all:

 Inside however, I am more like this:

And then in less than 10 minutes, the process is over, and I walk out thinking, "That wasn't so bad/awkward/mind-numbingly painful!"  Luckily, today, the pain quotient was only slightly worse than being poked in the eye by a french fry dipped in hot sauce for 10 minutes.  The awkward factor was a little more than expected.  Because once she moved "to the back" it went from a little awkward to "walking in on your grandparents doing it doggy style" awkward.  You know about "the back" right?  Because when you get it Brazilian style, they not only do the hot wax/hair ripping torture on the front (and in all of the nooks and crannies) but also "in the back."  And for someone (like me) who doesn't like to think about things relating to "the back", this is the part I dread the most. And this is when things got fucking weird.

First, instead of just saying she was "starting on the back" like most normal waxers do, she said, "Now put your legs up by your head like you're the baby and I'm the mama and I am about to change your diaper."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.  

I know that to get a proper Brazilian, multiple uncomfortable positions are required.  I know this.  But I have NEVER had someone put it that way before and it was so fucking awkward and weird that I started sweating because WHAT THE FUCK?  Why would she say that?!  Why?!

And then.  When I was allowed to put my legs back down and we were all done and I had stopped sweating she said the following.  "You have a very pretty lady."

At first I thought I didn't hear her and that she said "You ARE a very pretty lady."  Which would have been weird enough considering she hadn't really been looking me in the eye while we made small talk to forget the fact she was torturing my vagina.  So I was like "Thanks."  

But then she said "Yes, normally after a baby they aren't as pretty, but your lady is so, so pretty!"

Not to be repetitive, but...

WHAT. THE. FUCK!?!?

I definitely wasn't able to hide my horror.  So I slipped off the table, shoved some money at her, and was like "Ha. Right, Okay thanks, bye!"

Some days, it's like I'm on candid camera.  I don't know how else to explain this shit.  So while my pretty lady will stop throbbing with pain soon and recover from the experience, I don't know if I ever will.  

Seriously.  WHAT. THE. FUCK?

The End.

Good Intentions

Friends.  I know I've been MIA for quite a while, but in truth, I have been a busy bitch this past month.  Work, school (part of which required me to dress up like a mother fucking Bratz doll, no joke), travelling out of the country, etc.  So I have been planning this massive, fabulous, month in review type post to get myself back on track with this bloggy blog.  And then.  And THEN. Something happened that pushed that ambitious post to the back burner because your girl is HOT and not in a good way.

I get to work this morning and do my usual routine....  check our website.  Check my email and messages.  And then look at Facebook.  And what delight was waiting for me on the FB news feed?  This piece of enlightenment: If God Had Tryouts

My mother-in-law "shared" this facinating piece of judgy Jesus knowledge on Facebook this morning.  And let me tell you friends, she definitely is NOT sending this out to her daughter who DOES go to church every Sunday.  (In fact, we ALL have to go this Sunday for Mother's Day.  Just what I wanted, BTW.  Fuck a facial or pedi-I want to wrestle with my child for 90 minutes in a crazy Baptist church for Mother's Day.  WINNING!)

Anyway-I clicked on this article and by the end of it I am boiling.  Listen, I know my MIL is well-intentioned and is genuinely a good-hearted, kind person.  But knowing she thought this was important enough to share  like that lets me know what she really thinks of my mothering style.  And THAT makes me feel like this:

And then I thought maybe I would post something equally as offensive to her on my FB page.  Like "Top 10 Reasons why My Mother in Law Makes Me Feel Like Drinking and Punching Puppies" or "Best Butt Sex Positions to try-Straight from A Gay!"  Cause then I could be all:

But then I realized that could potentially make this upcoming Mother's Day a wee bit awkward.  So I calmed down a smidge to be like:

Because at the end of the day, I KNOW I am a good mother.  I might be bad in lots of other, less important ways, but I am a good mother.  And just because I am not strutting to church every Sunday to wrestle mini and shut her up with goldfish and crayons to sit through an hour long service SHE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND, doesn't make me less of a mother, or make her doomed to be a terrible, whorish girl with no moral or spiritual compass (like her mother).  That I know for sure-just like MIL knows she'll be punching her ticket to heaven because she posts judgy, passive aggressive, Jesus things like that.  So while I almost let it ruin my Tuesday, I have talked myself out of it with the knowledge that I have an amazing little girl who grows more wonderful every day and part of that is because of me.

So now I'm better, remembering that I am what I am, and that's pretty fucking fabulous.

Preach.

SD

PS-I will eventually get around to my massive post because there are so many stories to tell!  xoxo

Angry Reds

So psyched to be heading into class with a coffee instead of staying outside with a cocktail tonight. #notenoughsarcasmintheworld

Channeling My Inner Holly

How excited am I to be heading to NYC this weekend with my mother for a whirlwind shopping/eating/cocktails adventure?  Shopping. Eating. Cocktails.  (not necessarily in that order)

SO. EXCITED.

Feeling a bit like this:

Even better?  We will be seeing the Saturday evening performance of:


I'm dying! Those of you who know and love me know the depths of my adoration for this story.  I am so, so, SO excited.  I don't even have anything sarcastic to say (about this) because I am as giddy as a five-year old on Christmas Eve.  Who asked for a pony for Christmas and really thinks Santa is bringing it.

SO EXCITED!

Simply Marvelous, Darling.
SD

I'm Almost There Betty.

I know you all must be tired of hearing me bitch about how tired I am.  But listen.  For real this time?  Your girl is TIRED.  I've spent the past three weekends gallivanting and getting into shenanigans.  And then, to put the cherry on top of that sauced sundae, I had TWO nights of grad school this week.  TWO!!  One ended Monday night, and lucky me, Business Law started up on Wednesday night.  Like I said, I know you all have got to be sick of hearing me bitch about how exhausting life is since that is ALL I ever talk about lately, but it's the truth.  It's been the same cycle for the past month.  On Thursday, when I know friends are on their way to see me, I get a burst of sparkly energy and I am all:

So sparkly fun, laughs, bubbles, tipsy shopping, dancey times commence.  All weekend long, I am like drunk Wonder Woman, powerful in my bubble of fun.

And then Sunday night comes, and my body is like:

I was thinking about detoxing for a week or so.  I've gotten back on the workout train, sleeping eight hours a night, drinking water instead of wine....  And yet.  Here it is.  Thursday night.  And what's my plan???

Issues.  Slizzard-I'll still save you the bed near the window at the Betty.  After the past few weeks, our room might be a little crowded with the Teenie's, Smashy's, and Georgia Peaches (I'm looking at you Bubbles & Skittles) of my life.  But I'm down with it if you are.

And for real?

ISSUES.
SD

A Lovely Day

Now I know why women become stay at home moms. After a long, wine kissed lunch, followed by a mani and pedi, I picked up Mini SD feeling relaxed and blissful. She's happy, I'm happy. Obvi, it was a FAN-Fing-Tastic day. I could get used to this lifestyle.

Now to find the sugar daddy to provide me with the lifestyle. I do hope the Mister won't mind.

This Is Happening

Skittles Baumgardener and Bubbles Malone. And that is the last time I will be spelling those names out. From now on you're just going to be Skittles and Bubby, bitches.

Also, Bloody Mary's and beers and mimosas, oh my!

It's Not Really Almost March, Right?

Hi Sparklers.  I know it's been more than a minute since I last wrote but the past month has kicked me in my ass and then some.  BUT.  But.  I am beginning to see a sparkly disco-ball type light at the end of the tunnel.  Between grad school kicking my ass and my hugest work event kicking my ass, I am one tired lady.  My event was last Saturday, followed by hours of breaking it down (and not in the good way) on Sunday.  Followed by a huge paper and  presentation in class on Monday night.  (one in which I had to DRESS LIKE A BOY.)  Needless to say, this is about how I feel today:

Some fun notes that I will (hopefully) elaborate on in future, much wittier posts...

1. After months of stressing and worrying, Mini was accepted into the fancy school I work for!!  If you know me at all or read this blog regularly (which I think is a small group of the same people) you KNOW my angst about Mini and her potential academic woes were stressing me the F out.  So when they told us she got in I was all:

And then, because I had stressed out for six months about it (and my friend Tini happened to be in town the night we found out), I was then all:

and a little bit:

(For the record, so was Tini)

2.  My Atlanta girls are coming for a visit this weekend.  Something I desperately need and am looking forward to like Christmas.  The only thing I know for certain is that Saturday will begin with brunch and many, many cocktails.  Some drunk shopping might be (DEFINITELY WILL BE) in the mix as well.  And since we'll be roaming around cobblestone streets near the water, as opposed to a safe and sterile shopping mall, I am a little afraid for our safety.  But plan to power through, because that's what we do.  I'm sure we'll look like this, except a lot less fierce and a lot more wobbly:

3.  Remember the crazy dude from my last class, CAPSY ASSHAT?  I was worried he would be in my current class.  But word on the street is that homie was told by the Dean to take a semester off to CHILL THE FUCK OUT after his shenanigans in the last class.  In truth, I'm sure it had everything to do with him also getting CAPSY with a tenured professor, and not the fact that he fucked with me, but still, hearing that happy news?  Please.

So that's all I have time or energy to report on today.  I am heading to pick up my Mini, pour a ginormous goblet of wine, and watch the same goddamn episode of Team Umizoomi for the 20th time this week. (it's the penguins in pasta one, in case you care) with my laptop nearby so I can continue to follow Oscar fashion & gossip. (BTW-WTF is up with Kristen Stewart, did anyone else weep like a rainbow unicorn when Barbra sang "Memories", and how much do we LOVE Jennifer Lawrence?!?!)  

Jealous, right?  

Living the Dream,

SD