Shh...Blitzen is gonna shank Santa...

I had a "THING" on my face. It wasn't pretty. It was a pulsating, pain inducing leech of a pus filled mound that was smack dab on the side of my nose. It was not pretty. I know I said that already...but it wasn't. Oh yeah...then it spread. Cheek, eye, forehead....hair?

Pretty ain't I? I was going for the soft focus, big nose, pepperoni puff pastry look.

I went to see the doctor...and he told me I had....Shingles???? Don't only really really old bed-ridden, diaper wearing, moth ball smelling fogies get that???? Unfortunately for me...the answer was no.

Well, that's where I was for the last couple weeks...hiding Hunchback of Notre Dame style in my house coat and slipper socks. My hair was oil slicked and shingle pricked...and I'm sure I smelled awesome.

Brendan took every chance he got to mention the fact that I had Herpes. Even though it was just a "form" of herpes...he still decided my nickname would be Herps.

ME: "Hey Bren, guess what they call Shingles in Italy? St. Anthony's Fire. (cuz' it feels like fire)

BRENDAN: "Guess what they call em' in America? HERPES!"

Thank you Bren for your sympathy, your kind words, and your understanding. It was really a comfort that you were there to point out that the shingles on my face, so painful, so ugly were distant relatives to an STD...lest I forget...you are always there to remind me.

Slowly I started to heal...I went from pus filled lesions to scabby, flaky goodness with a smattering of pain and a shitload of itching. I picked...I said it...scars be damned...it felt good.

Finally the scabs started to flake off along with the rest of the skin on my face. It was so dry and badly in need of La Mer. I went back to work and basically sat on my ass...I felt like I had Mono again.

BUT....It's finally over!!!! I'm feeling better....and my spots are fading and easy to cover with spackle (I mean make-up). I missed you all so much, and want to say thank you for all of the get well comments and wishes....way better than any Christmas present!

*********************************************************

Brendan and his gang of brothers

(oh, and the old guy is the handyman....Eddie)

Brendan and I went to his parents' for Christmas this year. Bren has a shitload of brothers...and they all have wives and girlfriends....so it was like an Amish Christmas in Connecticut (with lots of booze and a little less facial hair....sans bonnets). We had a time. Having all those brothers together in one house....well....lets just say the walls were dripping with testosterone. If I hear the word girth or cock one more time...I'm going to have to check to see if I sprouted one...if I do...I hope it's got gobs of girth.

We Yankee Swapped, we injected H1N1 vaccines (Bren's dad is a doctor), we toasted, we played games, the women were subjected to an obscene amount of foul smelling odors and gag worthy noises...but it was all so much fun!

Me striking my "sexy" elf pose. FAIL !!!!

AND....I got a SHAM WOW! Hell Yeah!!!! Brendan would never let me have one of those nifty little f*ckers cuz' he said it was the same thing as a regular shammy (what dillhole doesn't know the difference between a SHAM WOW and a shammy?) BRENDAN .

Santa was good to me this year....well besides the whole "shingle" thing...well on second thought...EFF YOU Santa....you're a prick!!!! I hope Blitzen sticks his antler up your ass and throws you off a really really high roof. Since this year you were way too generous with the face fungus...let's work on 2010. Next year please bring me a new bathrobe...the camera case you got me this year somehow just doesn't cover my ass quite as well.

That's all for now,

Brandi

SHINGLE BELLS....SHINGLE BELLS...SHINGLES ON MY FACE !!!

I haven't been having the best of holiday seasons. I am slowly recuperating from a bout with Shingles. (Yeah, I though only old folks got it too). I feel like I'm on a permanent Valium trip and I can't get off the ride. SO TIRED!!!

I just wanted to say Herpe Holidays...oops...I mean Happy Holidays! I hope all is well with you and your families, and that you all get good shit in your stockings or your menorahs (or whatever thing you put your holiday loot in.)

I will be posting again soon...I hope.

That's all for now,
xoxoxo
Brandi

WILL BE BACK SOON....

I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm outta commission for a few days. I'm not feeling very well...and once I've rested and started feeling better...I will be back with a vengence. I'm hoping to post again in the next few days so check back.

See you soon!
xoxoxo
Brandi

The WTF Blanket

Well...I finally got my Snuggie. And fashion be damned...it's the best $14.99 I've ever spent! I highly recommend it to all you assholes out there who keep your heat at 62 degrees like we do here at our igloo ( I mean house ).

It's long, cozy and all mine! Oh yeah...and my husband HATES it...but I just chalk that up to jealousy.

And then....a few days later....he shows me this:
And let me just say....we laughed our asses off! I like my Snuggie even more!




I really wanted the zebra one....
then I found this:




Well...all of you Snuggie haters....you don't know what you're missin'.

That's all for now,
Brandi

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes....

Smoke and mirrors...that's all it really is isn't it?

Illuminated for a short moment...our own twists and turns, tendrils and ribbons...float then fade, and if we are lucky...someone...captures that moment and remembers.

Something misshapen. Something incidental...incandescently beautiful...rolling for a heartbeat then changed forever.

A wash, a flood, a flicker...a twirl of a lover's hair. A memory, a vision...a creation only seen by a focused lens. Exhaled grace. A snap of wanderlust. A pinafore that disappears as the decades form creases across that pretty dress.

This is smoke and mirrors...our lives lit like the grayish fumes from a cigarette. Reflected back upon ourselves...we see the cadence of our youth....maybe hear the tick of winding clock. Each one of us is like a Rorschach...what do you see when you look at the billowing wings? Do you see my eyes, my fingers, my liberty? Back lit from a candle, plumes of smoke dancing in time for one quick frame...a mirror is placed just so....can you see my secrets?

That's all for now,

Brandi

P.S. Brendan just came back from ANOTHER business trip, and while I was explaining this post...raving about how beautiful and amazing smoke art is...guess what popped up on the TV screen at the very same moment? Just guess! Yup...smoke billowing across a black screen. I looked at Brendan and said..."OH MY GOD! LOOK! I TOLD YOU SO! It was freaky. Well, it was a commercial for something lame...but it was freaky. If this makes no sense ***see previous post****

"I Speak Loudly For Those Who Have No Voice" - Captain America

me in my Super Hero alter ego Underoos...."Knee-High Barbie"

I have a super power. Don't worry...you didn't know because I've never really told anyone before (except my husband). It's not really "super" like being able to fly or some shit like that...but I'm convinced that if I don't keep this power under wraps it will be coveted by fine institutions like the CIA, FBI, or NASA. I really don't want to be quarantined or mind melted by some sort of rogue super power stealing militia...it's mine and I'm keeping it. So don't tell anyone. K?

I don't know when it started....15...younger, older...who knows? But it's been going on for years and every time my abilities present...I blow my own mind that I am just THAT talented.

There is no name for what I am. Psychic? No...not reeaallly. Super duper Influencer? Um...maybe?

OK...so now I'll tell you. My "super power" is entertainment based. Huh? You heard me. See, sometimes I'll just be randomly thinking about some random old TV show or movie I haven't seen in years....and lo' and behold....I flick on the TV a day, or week later...and there it is...on TV for the first time since like 1986! Freaky right? It happens all the time.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my boss about some old TV show that I used to watch when I was little. I couldn't think of the name of it and it was driving me CRAZY! You know the one with the guy in the flesh colored body suit that showed all of his organs (it was educational not gruesome) and he had a 'fro? Well, I Googled, and I Googled...and I finally just called my sister...and of course she just automatically said, "SLIM GOODBODY!". OOOOHHHH yeah! Slim Goodbody! My boss then remembered watching the show and we laughed at how we both used to laugh at the "bulge" beneath the large intestine...anyway...2 days later my boss came into work and said, "you'll never guess who is going to be at my son's school tomorrow?" Nope I would never have guessed...."SLIM GOODBODY"!!!! No shit?

I actually made him APPEAR? I know, I know, it's crazy...but it's true. He's like 50 years old now and started making appearances at schools...and I...like...called it. You're stunned...breathe...it'll be OK. I only use my powers for good.

That was just one little example...there is too many to list. I "influence" things so often...old Roseanne reruns, the new season of Hoarders (you're welcome), Pee-Wee Herman's return to Saturday morning television....all me!

What would you call this "power"? It needs a name...or I need a super hero persona or something. Help! Just keep it on the down low. Remember...my powers could be desirable to the "enemy" and be used for evil if put into the wrong hands. Instead of The Blue Lagoon movie on TNT....you could be forced to watch reruns of this guy and his "happy little clouds":

That's all for now,

Brandi

Don't Let Husbands Decorate...

Right now...The President of the United States is staring at me. Two French whores and/or Western whores (I haven't decided which, and it's a family debate) are also staring at me...though in much more of a "come hither" fashion. Oh yeah and whilst all this staring me down is going on...I am being held up by a cross bow toting Chewbacca and a laser-y gun wielding Han Solo. I better run down the train tracks to Fenway Park.

I did a bad, bad thing. I let Brendan decorate. All those things in bold....are hanging on my wall...together...clan of the crazy.

I should have learned from past experience. Previously, when Bren and I lived in our condo...I had relegated his decorative prowess to a closet. Yup...a closet. He set it up like a bar...hung his favorite Madonna poster, Han and Chewy, The Beatles album cover, and all of his other college-y shit. I was OK with that. I could close the doors on that. Now I'm eye to eye with the Head of State and some disease ridden, horse back riding (I've decided they're western), but still slightly French inspired trollops.

The Obama photo was really more of a joke. It was funny...let me repeat the WAS. Bren's very Republican parents were coming to visit for the first time, and my crafty lil' hubby decided he would throw our new Prez in their faces. Months later...Barry (as I have come to call him) is still on our wall. Now, don't get me wrong. I heart our wonderful country..."oh say can you see????", I "Pledge Allegiance" and all that jazz...but...I think we done gone and pushed it a lil' far now. Bren?

The bow-tied, sepia toned "ladies of the evening" and the Star Wars side kicks have been with Bren since college? Childhood? Over 12-15 YEARS now? ***sigh*** I can't make him part with them....no matter the promotion of gun violence and prostitution. I'm a damn understanding wife!

Fenway was a gift from Bren's Mom...and I like it. The train tracks were Brendan's attempt at photography (on one of his hikes...on train tracks)...it's actually pretty good...a little repetitive...but it's got vision.

I love my husband...and I love our home. Our office/den room...not so much. But...it's 2 am and me and the "clan of the crazy" are up way past our bedtime...so Redecorating 101 will have to wait for another day. Night Mr. President...be ready at 3 am when I call your ass.

That's all for now,

Brandi

That'll Be The Day When My Breasteses Sell You Cigarettes....

I thought these were hilarious...maybe you will too. I can't believe there was a time when these ads actually sold products....just like now...I can't believe boobs can actually sell beer. Maybe one day ass cracks will sell nose plugs and belly buttons will sell contact lenses...but for now...I'm glad these ads are in the past....

Whoever thought up this Demure ad was a real Douchebag!

"It deodorizes so thoroughly, so pleasantly, you know you're the woman your husband wants you to be."

What a TOTAL crock of shit!

Since when has anyone lost weight cleaning the windows? I really don't know...I've never tried.

"Should a gentleman offer a Tiparillo to a violinist?"

Obviously he should! I mean what woman wouldn't want a 7" long phallic shaped menthol while she was simultaneously getting dressed and playing the violin? Come on! It's a no brainer. This woman has goals...you can tell.

1. Smoke a Tiparillo

2. Play the Violin

3. Get dressed...with or without bra

4. Get to the salon to change that f*cked up hair-do.

That's all for now,

Brandi xoxox

What Would Rachel Zoe Say?

Ok...I would love if you would all let me know what you all think of the new design? Please? One of the blogs I really like recently changed her look and I hate it....but ofcourse, I would never say anything! So please let me know if my changes are good or bad. I love input!

Is this "Bananas"? Or am I just "Nuts"?

Talk to me people,
xoxoxo
Brandi

Jumpin' Jack Flash....You Know What It Is...

Could it have got any worse? Yup...it's me remember? No I don't have scabies or anything like that...just the typical loser -y type of shit that always happens to me happened...yet again.

On my way to work...tunes were cranked...heat was pumpin'...traffic was not so bad...lights saw me coming and miraculously turned all green just for me...then...BAM! Shut down...like trying to move a stone sculpture I was. Late for work I was going to be...because...

I ran out of gas!

How far away way the gas station you ask? Only about 1/2 a mile...but way too far for my prissy lil' ass to walk.

So, I cursed the gods that obviously have it out for me...and called work. BUT WAIT! Yup, my phone is dying. BUT WAIT! I have the phone-in-the-car-plugger-inner-thingy! BUT WAIT! My car doesn't work...cuz' I ran outta gas! Through the beeps, I told my boss I would be late...and I would call her right back. Through the dying tones I called Bren and asked if we had road side assistance. Through the failing pulses...the last drops of power...I called for assistance...through my phone...grasping for juice...I got this:

Press 1 for English (beep, beep, beep...this is bullshit...)

Press 1 for a new claim (beep)

Press 2 for an old claim (bleeeep, bleep, blllleee....)

Press 3 for roadside assistance (3 damn it 3!!!!)

Press 1 if your car is immobile (beep are you effing kidding me? beep, beep)

Press 2 if your car is....(I can't friggin' wait for this...my phone is dying here people! Beep, BEEP, BEEEEEEP)

So, with the last ounce of strength and power that my phone could muster...I dialed work and said, "COME GET ME!!!!"

I walked into work with my head held low...for this is just too typical. Flat tires, missing keys, bad moods, gas tank on empty. The world has officially given me the finger. And now...I'd like to give it back.

On a lighter note...I'm in a better mood today. Could you tell? My car is safe & sound and has a full belly of gasoline. My phone is on the charger...and tomorrow...I'm going to get to work on time...even if I have to walk there naked, shoeless, and in my granny panties (cuz' I didn't do laundry tonight either).

That's all for now,

xoxo Brandi

Back Up....Back Up...Mind Ya Bizness...

I am in a foul f*cking mood...the kind that would my shrink testicles...should I have been lucky enough to get some of those diamonds in a bag. I have no testes to shrink, and my boobs can't get any flatter...so my pissy mood has grown more despondent.

I have no real reason for this Bitch Fest...it's not like it's "Arts And Crafts Week" at panty camp.(thank you Hank Moody...I needed a reason to use that one) I just dunno...and I feel like venting.

I have seen way too many snotty noses in this past week! Mothers? Have you not heard of the recent outbreak of illness that is crippling our nation? Leave your sick and snot filled children at home, or at least wipe their noses and don't let them touch the shit where I work.

God Damn this whole dark before 4:30 bullshit! I hate driving to begin with...then I have to drive home IN THE DARK with 50,000 Bostonian assholes who don't know what a passing lane is...but do drive in the breakdown lane instead. Yeah...that's legal...between 7-10 am and 3-6 pm. Anyway...it's dark and I don't like it.

I used up an entire roll of toilet paper 3 days ago trying to get it started. Why the f*ck do they have to glue that first piece down? 17 tries later, all the plies pulled apart, I finally had a satisfyingly large enough wad, and then I hit cardboard. Cheap ass gas station toilet paper...$5 a roll...and now I'm left wiping my ass with aloe enriched Kleenex because I am too lazy to go to the grocery store. Oh yeah...and I'm in a bad mood...but my ass is as soft as silk.

What next? Oh...right...Brendan wants a Porsche for Christmas. I'm not even going to touch that one. Know what I want? A Snuggie...and yet he tells ME that I'M crazy! Won't his ass be cold standing in the driveway looking for his sparkly new Porsche on Christmas morning...and I'll be all warm and toasty in my new Snuggie...cuz' we can actually afford that!

Well...I'm done. I'm still all huffy and forlorn...but...now you know and can share my load. Speaking of which...I have to do laundry. Sonofab*tch! Screw it...I'm wearing Granny Panties tomorrow and if anyone has the slightest sense of self-preservation...they better keep their thong wearing, clean sock sporting, non-gas station ghetto toilet paper having mouths shut.

It's going to be a great day...

That's all for now,

Brandi

***I feel a little better now...thanks! ***

That's A Whole Lotta Lobster...

"Talking about love is like dancing about architecture."

- Joan (Angelia Jolie) in "Playing By Heart"

The "Armani" sunglasses need to go!

My husband made it back to the States safe and sound. It was good to see his face....even though he was a little sunburned...he looked like he got a little Brazilian sizzle, saucy, ay yay ay.

He said the wedding was one of the best he had ever been to...Brazilian carnival dancers as tall and ripped as Amazon women (and barely dressed)...carnival drummers, lit dance floor, pyrotechnics, and dancing. If there was dancing...Brendan was happy.

Oh and meat...he said they ate a lot of meat. Meat off the grill, meat on a platter, meat on a stick. Meat for every meal.

Well, he made it back for two days and then he was off again...to Minnesota...eh? I'm missing him already! We've talked more on the phone than we've seen each other all month. Absence makes the heart grow fonder...pah!

Well, this post was not the most giggle worthy. I waited all week for something funny to say...alas...without my muse, I am blah. Next week, I promise to get back into the swing of things. If I walk into a door or trip an old lady....I promise to let you know.

That's all for now,

Brandi

Don't Be Tardy For The Party....oh oh oh oh

Well, it's day 2 and counting. I'm missing my hubby so so much! I'm feeling a bit lonely here all by myself...though now that my two cats only have me to adore them....they are constantly fighting for my undivided attention. That takes up a good part of my day.

It kinda sucks having no friends to hang out with out here. I moved from Vermont almost 3 years ago (Christ...has it really been that long already?) and I still haven't made any non-work friends to speak of. Being a hermit doesn't help. But working in retail is the real ball buster.

What have I been doing with my time alone? WELL....what haven't I done? It's been "off the hook" here at my house! I have caught up on all my missed episodes of Supernanny, Project Runway, and The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I wasn't gonna be "Tardy for that Party". I love that song....what of it?

I also eat whenever and whatever I like...and because Bren's not here...I am not ashamed. You may ask, "how does she keep that girlish figure?" Well, I'll tell you. I eat a Fun Size Snickers ( or 3 ) for breakfast, a frozen pizza for lunch, and then a "sensible" dinner. Like tonight...I cooked...a can of beets. No really, I cooked em'...on the stove and everything...no microwave. Bren would never eat beets and they are my favorite, so why not make a meal outta them. My shit is gourmet bitches! I used seasoning too! Well....salt...but I sprinkled it in my hand, and pinched it here and there....Julia Child was wiping tears of joy in heaven.

So anyway, I was really bored so I thought I'd bore you too. You're welcome. Tune in next time when I talk about my laundry habits, my toilet cleaning prowess, and garbage day! It promises to be way better than anything I could have written about dumb ol' Brazil...and I am only calling it dumb solely because I am not there and am jealous.

That's all for now,

Brandi

Say Hello To My Lil Fren'....

"Blue as the sky....somber and lonely, sippin' tea..." yeah that's me, all alone...so I put my records on, and let my hair down.







Brendan left for Brazil today...I'm missin' him already. I am not however, missing the 20 hour flight that he has ahead of him. Damn! I hope he at least gets to see some beautiful Brazilian women in thongs...he deserves it after that. (I'm such a good wife) I am staying home....taking care of the kids (kitties), and holding down the fort....with a knife next to the bed, an axe under the pillow, and a uzi in my Hope chest. Don't mess with the Zohan! This economy has not afforded me a trip to Brazil this year...but I got a really good price on my Mac 10 .45acp. It's shiny.

Before Bren left...our trouble making child (the orange one) came home smelling like gasoline. So as good parents do...we decided to give our "little man" a "little bath"...in the sink...with shampoo. Let me set the stage for you...our cat Gus, acts like he is on a permanent acid trip. He's a tweaker. We only had bathed him once before (skunk) and that was a blood bath. Or it looked like one. Tomato juice, the two of us, and a cat on crack. Bloody.

So anyway, we decided the sink was sufficient place to cleanse the smell of gas from Gus's arse...bad idea. Let's just say, Gus's ass still smells like gas but the kitchen window, stove, counters, and kitchen floor are sparkling clean thanks to Gus's "bath". He went from the cuddly little lion cub that he can be....to this:







I'm hoping the scars heal before New Year's.

"Maybe sometimes...we got it wrong...but it's alright."

Yeah, it's alright.

That's all for now,
Brandi

Have A "Whore-iffic" Halloween...

Aw shit! They "Whore-ifed" Minnie Mouse. Now she's a Skank!

This awesome lady came into the store where I work the other day. We (my co-workers and I) were all standing around the counter chit-chatting, and we started talking to this "awesome lady" about Halloween.

US: "What crazy/sexy/cool costume are you going to rock this Halloween pray-tell?"

AWESOME LADY: "I don't know. I am a 3rd grade school teacher, and every costume out there is just so slutty. There's the prostitute nun, the prostitute school girl, the prostitute bumble bee. I just don't think 3rd graders are ready for that shit."

ME: "Yup, unless you want to be a whore for Halloween...you're pretty much screwed."

Okay, maybe the conversation didn't quite go like that...but that was pretty much the gist. When the hell did Halloween go from dressing up in a scary and spooky monster mask to seeing who can wear the least amount of clothes and barely covering the "important parts"? Oh wait...maybe when I turned about 16 and stopped enjoying Halloween.

I Googled some of these masterpieces of slutdom and just had to share...

"Trick or treat" my ass...it should be more like "tit or twat". Either way...someone's gettin' candy. (damn my filthy mouth)

Here's my favorites.

"The Prostitute Nun"

Is nothing sacred? Ever hear of the Thorn Birds?

"The Prostitute Nurse"

She's gonna have to cure her own cold with her ass cheeks hangin' out like that.

"The Prostitute Girl Scout"
She's not selling cookies.

Yeah, this is the Prostitute "Prostitute"

It's considerably realistic...she looks pretty wrecked.

There was just too many "prostitute (insert admirable profession/cute animal/or Disney character here) costumes to post here. I mean really...think of any sort of worker in any profession...use your imagination (got it in your head?) Ok, now picture them with their boobs hanging out, knee high boots, and fishnets....costume done...spooky right? Deserves candy right?

Who did you picture?

MOTHER TERESA?

Holly shit you sickos...she's a dead wrinkly old lady! You wanted to picture Mother Teresa with her boobs hanging out...and fishnets?

Didn't work did it?

Mother Teresa is a person...not a profession...you could've tried prostitute "missionary" or prostitute "saint"....that woulda worked. I bet there's a costume for it....white toga thingy about crotch high??? Oh and don't forget the halo....

I'm quite sure my husband would love it if I dressed up like....

"Little HO Peep"

BUT....I was thinking something a little more....I don't know....Amish???

Yeah! Amish women rock it hard core. Check out the bonnet! I seriously could use a bonnet in my everyday wardrobe. It's dainty. The web site says that this is a Pilgrim/Puritan costume....but you and I both know it's Amish. I'll carry a patchwork quilt or something...that'll add to the realism. (there I go again with my Amish sterotypes)

Shit....they don't carry my size....guess I'll just go as the crazy cat lady in her bathrobe again this year. It's pretty scary...just ask the neighbors...they see me in it everyday.

Happy Howl-a-ween !!!

Send all your extra Butterfingers and Mr. Goodbars over to Duel Living c/o my tummy!

That's all for now,

Brandi

Required Watching = SUPERNANNY

As that ticking time bomb of my "biological clock" ticks louder and louder in my ears....I am seriously pondering if I'm up for becoming a mother.

See, I was raised by my father...a no nonsense kinda guy who gave me two choices...

1. His Way

or

2. Too F*uckin' Bad

Needless to say, I always chose "His Way", and in the event I chose anything else...I rarely did it again. Yo Dad...BRAVO! I am right now, at this very moment, applauding you. My teenage years were a little turbulent with you, but LOOK AT ME NOW!!! Perfection.

I work in a retail furniture store, and let me just say to all of the parents out there that may be reading this...WTF are you doing to your children? Yes, I say doing TO your children...because by giving them all of these "options" at 2,3,4,5 years old...they are bound to get it a little f*cked up.

Parents come into my store all the time and their children run rampant...out of control...driving me nuts. I am known as being the store hard ass...I don't care what the parents think. You better believe I tell their children NO RUNNING! NO JUGGLING the stupid shell ball thingys that serve no purpose but to tempt children to juggle them. NO SCREAMING! And parents...that means you too. If your kid is climbing on the seat of a 12" realistic bicycle (meant to sit on a shelf for some ridiculous purpose) get off your lazy ass and tell them NO! Don't scream at them across the store to "Please stop Little Becky/Jimmy/Frodo/Optimus Prime. Doesn't work does it? Nope.

I love the quote...

"This is not a democracy...it's a dictatorship"

True dat!

I believe in giving children choices that they are capable of making..."do you want to use the green crayon or the blue one?" "What book would you like to read at bedtime tonight?" I don't however, believe children learn from being given so many options. There is a point where there is no possibility of making sensible choices. "What do you want for dinner tonight Apple/Billy/Terminator/Brutus?" And when you say no to his request for Jolly Ranchers and milk shakes...he throws a fit. Well??? You asked him what he wanted for dinner Dumb Ass. He is just a 4 year old. My advice...put the chicken nuggets in front of him on his little Thomas the Tank Engine plate and tell him to enjoy! If he doesn't give him 2 options...

1. Eat It

or

2. Too F*ckin' Bad...go hungry.

You may ask why I think I know it all? You may think...sure...she doesn't have a kid how can she stand up on that soap box and preach to the parental choir? I'll tell you why. I was a nanny for a lotta years. I learned a lot about disciplining 3 toddlers without the having the option of corporal punishment (which sometimes sucked). I have also been childless for these last 30 years, looking in from the outside and watching all of these f*ck up parents reading books like "Never Say No To Your Child" and laughing cuz' they've raised a completely rude, discontented, and lost little kid. Of course you should say no to your kids. By all means, they have to learn to make their own decisions, but that comes in time...not in infancy. They don't learn morals, values, and respect from being able to pick out their dinner menu, or running in a furniture store.

Okay, I have stepped down off my soap box now. Thanks for listening to medium sized rant. My worst fear in life is to choose to become a mother and then to do the job badly. It is a juggling act...with kids...not little shell ball thingys...and I'm scared.

And don't get me started on....

1. Parents who allow their children to sleep with them until they are 9.

2. Children who are still suckling from their mother's teat at 5. (If it were necessary the rest of the animal kingdom would be doing it. Do you see 5 year old elephants still sucking their mother's elephant sized breast? Nope...she would have stomped that little elephant ass and said go get yourself a peanut or some shit like that.)

3. Rich parents who buy their children's love/adoration/place in college, society, and life. (MTV spawned the series My Super Sweet 16 to showcase bratty spoiled teenagers and instead created a cult of teenagers aspiring to have the latest Jay-Z knock off at their parties...and now their parents are expected to shell out.)

You know what I got on my 16Th birthday? I got the chance to drive my Dad's car to get Chinese food less than a mile away from my front door. And you know what? I grinned ear to ear the whole way!!!!

That's all for now,

Brandi

P.S. I'm sure someone is going to let me have it...I'm ready...and I'll still love you.

Perhaps I Might Borrow Your Grey Poupon?

Perhaps.

I love that word. Perhaps. It's a possibility. It's an awakening. It's a bite of fate. Perhaps. Perhaps I will do something memorable today...make a friend, learn a word, eat something other than chicken. Perhaps, I will get dressed today...perhaps I won't. It's all in the maybe that is so intriguing.

A twist, a turn, an unexpected blink and that perhaps is reality. Poof. Done.

Endless choices are awaiting when preceded by perhaps...and nothing is off limits. I guess that is what makes it so damn tasty.

Perhaps, today I will meet a person who can change my mind. Perhaps I will fulfill a dream. Perhaps I will rip a hole in the ass of my favorite pants at work today...nope wait. I did that already....yesterday. That sentence should have read: Obviously I will rip a hole in the ass of my favorite pants at work. There's always a possibility of holes ripping and embarrassing scenarios when we're talking about me here. Perhaps I will shave my legs or hem my new pants...probably not...but perhaps. Conceivably I may laugh out loud or dance in front of the mirror...perhaps...I haven't decided yet...but the option is there. It's liberating isn't it?

Perhaps, you dear friends, will read this and think I'm nuts...perhaps you will not...you may or may not have already decided that. Perhaps is a rolling stone that only rests in decision. What choices will I make today?

Perhaps I will go eat some Sabra Hummus now...yes...choice made...no longer perhaps.

That's all for now,

Brandi

P.S. Maybe the real reason I love the word perhaps, is because it sounds like PURRHATS and who doesn't love a kitty with a cap? I'm a fan....they're just so jaunty!

Cuz' Mickey Loves Ya...

"We write to taste life twice,

once in the moment,

and in retrospection."

-Anais Nin

I thought I would give a little "update" on a few of my previous postings. Revisit...if you will. Taste them again...as if once wasn't enough.

Folks...my toilet is flushing clear. I am officially back from the tacky. I have to say...thank God for the knock off 2000 Flushes brand...it was really more like 500. In this economy, I never thought I would actually be thankful for crappy products. Pun intended.

I think it may be time to retire my good ol' faux "Snuggie". I spilled hot chocolate on it...and it puts the "ug" in ugly...and takes the "snug" outta "Snuggie. I'm thinking I will invest in one of those new fashion Snuggies....like the one below...because I am feeling like I want to bring out my wild side. I think the zebra one will do that. It's my kinda "lingerie". Bren better watch out! I'm getting frisky with my loungewear.

I finally got a weekend off with Brendan. I only get one a month....which is tough. What did we do all day on a rainy Saturday? We watched Rocky I - V. "AAAADDDRRIIAAANNN". It was quite the marathon. Ofcourse I had to hear MANY bad Rocky impressions and watch Brendan "air box" with many invisible opponents.

Things I learned that rainy Saturday?

1.Brendan can't do a very good Rocky impression.

2.Brendan can't do a very good Russian impression.

3.Rocky II-V sucked.

4.Brigitte Neilson used to be quite hot.

5.I never want to hear "Eye Of The Tiger" again.

6.I never want to hear "Da Da Dant...Da Da Daaaant" again.

7.I had a really good day watching Rocky I-V with Bren. Yup, I said it. It was fun.

8.They had to put clothes on Stallone for the Rocky V poster...and a hat...he was getting man boobs.

Well...that's the update....maybe just a few more little things.... I am not getting a Brazilian wax now or ever. The cats haven't really been bringing any dead things home lately. Our heat isn't working upstairs. Our refrigerator sprung a leak and drowned the kitchen floor. Don't worry...I didn't know refrigerators leaked either. Gus stopped peeing in the plants but decided bowls of leaking refrigerator water were better. My bangs are getting longer by the day and ever more so unattractive. My beautiful little niece is playing tackle football. GO JJ! And I checked the tv guide for the next couple weeks...Lethal Weapon, Braveheart, and Die Hard were miraculously left off the line up...so I'm safe through October. Life is good in the Yeager house.

That's all for now,
Brandi

What A Girl Wants...

I used to break the erasers off of pencils and put them in my training bra. See...I thought having pointy nips meant I was a "woman". That's all I wanted to be when I was a little 'un. I thought of all of the coolest things that all of the prettiest and coolest women I knew had...and I wanted them too. Like Farrah Fawcetts pointy nips...among other things.

My step-sister (before she was my step-sister) had a mouth full of the most beautiful metal. Her teeth gleamed when she smiled. She was soooo cool! She had the best dolls...the best "office supplies" to play "office" with...she wore high heels in high school...and she feathered her hair! I wanted to be her. She was a woman in my eyes.

So I stuck a barrette between my teeth and my lip...and smiled. I told everybody on the kindergarten playground that I...had indeed...received the awesome opportunity to "get braces". Slight problem...Gina Catalano (that uppity bitch) blabbed to the entire class that my "braces" were really just a plain ol' barrette. I was a fraud...a playground non-braces wearing, metallic tasting mouth fraud. Thanks Gina.

I wanted long fingernails too. I though that was the epitome of a woman...red claws. They were graceful and shiny, and great for pointing at stuff. I was a kid. My parents wouldn't let me get fake ones...so I tried everything. Bugles Snacks...pointy, perfectly conical for the "all around" fingernail look...and they were tasty too. I tried more barrettes...the snappy kind that you bent to close. Those were a little painful in the beginning...but after my fingers went numb...it was great! I didn't try and convince anyone but myself that they were real...Gina kinda ruined my mojo. I even saved my allowance for Lee Press On Nails! For the 15 minutes they stayed on...life was oh so blissful...and womanly...and red.

Yes...I did it all. I wore my "blankie" on my head so I could have hair as long as Crystal Gayle. (a big big dream of mine...HUGE). I bought fake glasses at Claire's Boutique (I did get away with passing those off for real for a few days...Gina moved away). I dreamt of beautiful gowns and satiny high heals that click clacked on the floor when I walked. All of these things were cool to me. All of these things meant being grown up. I wanted a pink car with a shifter. That was it. That was all. That's what a girl wants.

Fast forward. I suppose I can now say that I am a woman...though I still feel like I'm aching to find out what makes me so. I laugh at all of those things that I did to be beautiful...to be older...to be different.

Now that I need braces (at 30) I realize how much they suck and they don't make anyone a woman cuz' boys wear em' too. Long fingernails are for suckers...stuff gets stuck under them and you can't get a really good pick going without causing a nose bleed. I wear glasses now. Yeah...lucky me! That's exactly what I wanted and now I hate them. I still have flat boobs with perpetually pointy nipples. Now I know that this is way too much information...but it just goes to show...what a girl wants....loses a lot in the translation. I don't wear dresses...ever! Same goes for heels...whether they go clickty clack or not...they are uncomfortable and they are dumb. I hate the color pink and especially hate pink cars. I have a standard car with a "shifter"...it's a pain in the arse. I live in Boston...drive in bumper to bumper traffic...this isn't womanly...this is the cause of road rage.

What have I learned from this little diatribe? I had a really f*cked up vision of womanhood. Everything...all of it...that I wanted...is exactly opposite of who I am now. I just blew my own mind here! This is like therapy kinda shit. What was I thinking? And why didn't I listen to everyone that told me...I would hate braces, glasses were nerdy, fingernails were stupid, heels were painful, and none of it would make me grow up?

When I have children...I hope I have boys. They don't put stuff like barrettes or Bugles on their penises do they?

That's all for now,

Brandi

Because Brass They Are...

My life seems crazy lately...not hectic crazy...but I may be going off the "deep end" crazy. I had a dream the other night that I quit my job to fulfill my life's calling. What did my life call me to do in my dream? Bikini waxing. Yup...vaginas of Boston need me. In my dream.

I woke up from a nap late this afternoon to Brendan bursting into the bedroom, bringing blaring light and harsh footsteps. What did he say to me? Not, "it's time to get up my Love." Not, "rise and shine." No...seriously...he said this...

"Como te los llamos." Which very loosely translated in some sort of Spanish means "What are your names?"

Then...

"My collar stays are brass." WTF? I asked him if I was awake? I couldn't wrap my head around what would possess my husband to NEED to tell me this...

I honestly thought I was still dreaming...but no...this was reality. My skewed reality. The one where my husband has a weird affinity for saying Spanish words in weird orders that mean absolutely nothing! My reality...the one where my husband fingers these little flat thingys that keep his shirt collars flat...and wakes me up from a perfectly good nap by informing me that they are brass...because...they are...brass...duh?

I have a husband that now has a penchant for house plants. We have books on plants people! He dusts each leaf lovingly with clean dish cloths people! This isn't the Brendan I married. I am in a weird grown up version of reality. So these new house plants...Bren's darlings...have become the peeing ground for one of our beloved "sons" Gus..."the orange one". Bren has now put rocks, aluminum foil, willow branches, AND anti-cat citrus spray in and/or around the potted plants...so what does my industrious little man in fur pajamas do? He backs up to the plant...and pees backwards, arching it into the plant! Aluminum foil...nope. Rocks...nope. Willow branches....pah. In what reality does a cat pee backwards? Oh wait...that's right...it's mine.

By the way...I got a brand spanking new windshield on my car today. For free. Yes free. In the great state of Massachusetts...you can get two replacements a year. Score....but oh wait...there is a brand new windshield on my car with a brand new oily, greasy, black hand print (that looks like it belongs to the big rock man in that movie "The Neverending Story") smack dab in the middle of my free new windshield. Figures. This is real life here people.

That's all for now,

Brandi

First Date = Porn....Obviously!

The first "date" I had with Brendan...twas muy interesante. Being a "new age" kinda gal...I picked the boy up in my pimped out Geo Prism. That's right...I said pimped out...it had orangy colored racing stripes...ok, maybe it was just strips of rust...but the radio worked...straight pimpin'.

I drove to the house that Brendan shared with 2 other roommates that he didn't really know, and there he was..all 125 lbs and sideburns, sitting on the front porch. He said he was out there because he didn't want to be inside. "What's inside", I ask? He told me his roommate Gretal was having a "party". Yes...it was a party.

Inside, stood an old 32" TV on a rickety TV cart. From the front porch I could see a glowing flicker running over the enthralled faces of about 10 party goers. It wasn't until I got inside the door that I heard the sound. It wasn't until a little farther in...that I saw the "theme" of this little soiree. Yup. Porn. It was a porn party. And the girl throwing this little bash...was about 4'11", and had brown bobbed hair and glasses. And by the way...she was a total porn loving sex addict...who I later found out...was a "screamer". With an innocent name like Gretal...I shoulda figured that out. I have a porn name and am a total prude...see the pattern?

Brendan doesn't remember it being gay porn...but for some reason...that's the porn genre I have seared into my brain. Maybe I just like to remember it that way because it would make it all that much more disturbing to tell about. Whomever was doing the dirty on TV...the fact that the audience was of mixed gender and all so very into the "performance"...was actually the most disturbing part. I don't think they even looked up when Bren and I entered the room.

There was narrative happening too. Not from the actors on the screen, but the 10 sitting around watching it. I won't repeat...it's just all too much for this somewhat family friendly blog...and to be frank...I just don't think spell check would catch any of the assured spelling blunders that may occur. But for the purpose of painting a picture for you dear readers...pepper you imagination with lots of "ishy" adjectives and a smattering of 4 letter words and that should get you by.

Needless to say...I understood why Bren was on that front porch. Dinner somehow lacked its flavor, maybe because I was nervous sitting across the table from my new "beau"...maybe because every time I blinked I saw flashes of dangly "things" and the faces of the 10 that were watching those "things" dangle.

Yeah, that was our first date. The beginning of the end. (Just kidding Bren!) I think we might have made out after dinner....but somehow that has seemed to slip my mind....the pre-dinner show was just so vivid. There was just so much....(place "ishy" adjective and phallic resembling noun here)

That's all for now,

Brandi