Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

We’re watching this show on the History Channel about hygiene. Apparently on the Space Station and Shuttles they bring pottie waste back to Earth.

Why?

Caroline keeps peeing so much her pullups leak and make a puddle on the floor. Last night we had to have a showdown with Jo about her sleeping habits; she wants someone to sit in the room with her until she goes to sleep. Hub was in there for an hour and a half the other night and she never went to sleep, so we now have a timer for 30 minutes. Caroline took crayons and Tinkertoys and ran up and down the halls with her arms outstretched and redecorated our cabinets. Someone flushed something down the toilet tonight and it overflowed at bedtime. Hub keeps using bad language in front of the kids and making me mad. Today I got so upset that I took the little armrest cover thingie off my chair and threw it across the room. The girls looked at me in stunned silence for about 60 full seconds, then Caroline quietly spoke: “I’ll get that for you, Mommy.”

I even got out a jigsaw puzzle to work on for occupational therapy. Guess what? “What can I do, Mommy? She’s taking my pieces. I want those pieces back! Give ’em back! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

On the plus side, Jo’s started calling me “Mama” out of the blue and I think it sounds really old-fashioned and sweet.

Since June 9:

350 attempted comments have been blocked by the Blacklist plugin
I don’t have a count of how many comments have NOT been blocked, but I have added 100 URLs to the Blacklist.

Simply put, the spammers have been making it not fun anymore. So I upgraded to Movable Type 3.0. This means that if you want to comment, you have to sign up with TypeKey. They don’t require a lot of info and they don’t spam you after you sign up. It’s just a level of accountability. I hope you choose to keep commenting even though it means you have to go through an extra step.

And yes, I know some of my templates look like ass right now. I still need to tweak my CSS settings!

What am I doing wrong!?!?

This is the second batch of cookies I’ve attempted in the past couple of days that has turned out spectacularly awful. The first time I used Alton Brown’s “Chewy” recipe, and they came out totally powdery, with a dry, cake-like crumb. This time I used the Tollhouse recipe (which is basically like AB’s recipe only with softened butter rather than melted) and added a little bit of milk, and subtracted some egg white because I am trying to get a nice flat chewy cookie.

They’re like freaking pecan sandies or something. Ugh. What the hell? Even my kids are asking what’s wrong with them.

This sucks.

The stupid slack-jawed boogerfaced postman brought us someone else’s mail again. The only thing our address had in common with the other one is the street number and zip code. Soon I imagine we will be getting mail for everyone in Austin who has the same street number that we do.

I wrote a big black all-caps message on the envelope: WRONG ADDRESS. PLEASE START CHECKING ADDRESS VS. STREET

Like that will make a difference.

You know what else? In the past month a cockroach has come in with the mail twice. I think his dumbshitness is planting roaches in the mailbox.

Holy moaning macaroni. Does nobody know about the LAW OF NATURE that states that if you are NOT QUIET in a movie during the show that I will slay you??

Oh yeah, I almost forgot:

If you sprinkle when you tinkle, wipe the gd seat. Sheesh.

I hate our mailman. He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Enchanted Rock. He does stuff like write “Return to sender, addressee unknown” on our mail. Once with an insurance bill, causing the cancellation of our auto insurance. He likes to leave packages in the grass by the mailbox for the sprinklers to water. He’s rude. Today I got a poster and it was too long for the mailbox, so instead of walk to the house to deliver it, the lazy bastard leaves it hanging out of the mailbox and uses a rubber band on the handle to keep it a little bit closed. When he brings us a package, he’s supposed to bring the mail too but he never does. Our old postlady used to stack our mail with the big stuff on the bottom and small stuff on top so it was easier to pick up. Not this guy. He crams it in there with great force, causing our envelopes and magazines to crumple. At Christmastime he sent us a card with a little happy note, otherwise known as begging for cash. That’s something he’s not supposed to do.

The problem is, it doesn’t matter how much we complain. Our neighbor complains too – she hates him. But, he’s disabled, and he’s a minority, and he fulfills a quota, so they can’t fire him. The local postmaster said this.

How sweet a deal is that? Be an incompetent bastard all day, every day, and keep the job! Woo!

I’m pretty sure that was him at the mall the other night, but not 100% sure. It was just a brief encounter; a passing by in a department store. Not enough time for me to kick him in the nuts and tell him he’s an asshole, like I’ve been wanting to do for the last 10 years. Next time I’ll be quicker.