6:  Yes, mom.

Me:  How do you know?

6:  You tell me all the time!

Oh, oops. 

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Driving along, 6 views a golf course that we are driving by:

Wow, that golf place must be really good.  It has TWO port-a-potty’s!

Yeah, I’m not touching that one.

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6:  I wish we had something we could just throw up on the windows to make it dark in here like a movie theater.

Me:  Then we would watch a movie?

6:  Or play Mother Knows Best.

(Anyone with kids and/or who has seen Tangled a bajillionty times, will get the hilariousness of this statement).

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He had a couple days off for teacher conferences and then President’s Day . . . .

Me:  (jokingly)  Are you going to miss going to school for the next couple days?

6:  I’m going to miss math class.

Me:  Um, O-Kay?

(I love my little geek!).

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For V-day, he made me a couple things.  They are the sweetest and most adorable.  Thought I’d share:

TP Butterfly.

And then this . . . the boy knows how much I love free stuff!

Three Free Hugs!!

I love it when I don’t have to pay for his affection.  And I get three opportunities for hugging without compensation.  Yay!! 

(He actually just asked why I haven’t used them yet, and I told him I was saving them for when I really needed a hug.  So then he tells me that he is going to give them right back when I use them.  So that means . . . never-ending hugs, y’all!!  I am totally saving these for his teenage years!).

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My 3 year old apparently has big plans for his next year of life:

When I turn 4 . . .I’m going to go to bed later, eat hot dogs, handle sharp things . . .

Your brother didn’t handle sharp things when he was 4.

But I will be bigger then.  And big people handle sharp things.  Like you handled the sharp thing when we got the tree.

Here is Exhibit A of my 3 year old son actually holding “the sharp thing” when we got our tree:

Yeah, we only gave him this because the machete was a bit dull.  Mom of the year, right here.

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Please note that this is the last day for submissions from all of you of any pictures you have to contribute to the weekly whacked.  If you have them and just haven’t gotten them to me, today is the day.  If you haven’t caught anything yet but are desperate to be included, get on out there and start shooting!  Then get them to me by the end of the day (EST).  (Oh, and THIS MEANS YOU, JEN!!  Get me something whickety whacked, P-town style, stat!).  Happy hunting to all!

The most recent event was receiving this little thing:

. . . is a magic number.

I have been chosen by the very funny and witty Carrie, the original Cannibalistic Nerd, as one of three people that she wants to know some things about.  Three things, to be specific (are you noting a theme here?).  And while I told her that I don’t think I’m really all that interesting, nor are there that many things that you guys would even want to know about me, I will humbly and graciously accept this honor.

Here’s the deal . . . I have to tell y’all three things about myself, then name three more blogging peeps that I want to know more about, and then hope that they will be willing to share something with the class.  Oh, and they have to use the 3 (above).  Have I mentioned that this has something to do with the number 3?  Yeah, so . . . 3.

Here are 3 things about me:

1.  I love Elvis Presley.  I have an unhealthy fascination with all things Elvis, sort of like my friend Jen and her Nathan Fillion obsession.  Although mine falls short of stalking.  Mostly because he is dead.  Just mostly.  But I think the man is absolutely fascinating.  I have been to Graceland and have an absolutely awful and hysterical picture of me standing next to his grave (I didn’t want to smile, because, ya know, grave and all.  But instead I look like I’m scowling.  Awful).  But I also have a super fun pic of me throwing myself up against the gates.  So, yeah.  Elvis.  Love him.

Did I mention he was pretty hot as well?

2.  When I was a tween (12 maybe?) my  mom entered me into a beauty pageant.  I think it was like Miss Pre-teen or some shit.  There was a group dance number that I had to participate in.  Yeah.  Now, I was a cute kid, but I wasn’t beauty pageant material.  I had a short bob haircut, and was just about to enter into those awkward teenage years. Plus, there were girls there that had been doing this shit, Toddlers & Tiaras-style, for years.  I remember getting ready back stage, putting on my home made mint green silk dress (it was awful guys), and a mom of one such specimen of Tiara-dom took pity on my poor unfortunate ass and removed one of the many many hoops from under her daughter’s skirts to let me borrow and wear under my flat and non-billowy dress.  Because I looked tragic, y’all.  My mom is not the epitome of fashion, and in her inexperienced hands, I looked like some home ec project gone terrible wrong.  It was so sad.  Shockingly, I did not win that competition.  And thus began and ended my pageant career.

Yeah, I DID NOT look like this.

3.  It’s almost my birthday, bitches!!!  Yeah, boy-eeee.  While usually I approach my impending doom day of birth with a bit of trepidation, I am excited this year.  I am going away for a couple days to Atlantic City, just me and the hubs (no kids, did I mention the excitement?), which means I will not have to work on my birthday for once (I usually, in years past, have had a docket scheduled ON my birthday.  Sucks).  And I even got a birthday present already!  It was awesome, it was from Johi, and I will talk about it next week.  And extra bonus is that I don’t have to spend an entire week with my mother, which is such a relief.  Usually we take a week, around my birthday, and travel with the kids down to Florida to stay with my parents.  Now, I love my parents.  But I love them much more from afar.  Way way way far.  They are just a lot to deal with.  Small doses of them is ideal.  So a week is a loooonnnnnnnggggggg time, is what I’m saying.  But this year?  Freedom!!  (I’m really not this horrible of a person.  You have not met my mother.  Don’t judge until you do).

Ok, enough about me already!  Now I get to pass on the love to 3 other bloggers that I want to know 3 things about.  Did I mention 3?

Leauxra of Does This Make My Blog Look Fat? - This chick be funny, yo.  Even though she has been posting a bit less frequently lately, she is always there with a quick witty comment on my site.  The woman cannot rhyme under pressure apparently, but I still think she’s hilarious.  Maybe she’ll even start posting again soon . . .  Fingers crossed.

Kelly of I’m In There Somewhere - Kelly is a stay at home mom of 2 kids, with 2 dogs and a military hubs.  Every time she posts I learn a little bit more about her crazy and hysterical life.  But I want more!  Come on, Kelly . . . give me some good stuff!

Bill of The Authentic Life - Bill is one of my Dude-Bitches.  I find him absolutely fascinating.  One minute he is posting the most moving poetry and prose, and then the next he is posting cartoons of Amy Winehouse coming to him in a drunk induced dream state or of his hubby, Paul, not understanding his blog (ha! Join the club).  He is fabulous and I love him.  Plus, I’ve never had a gay man make me feel so dirty when he drunk raps about me.  In the best possible way!  And stay tuned for his submissions in this Friday’s Weekly Whacked.  You will not be disappointed!

True dat.

Ok, peeps, check out these fantastic bloggers, share the love, and buy me birthday presents (wait, what?  Oops, that one just slipped out).  

However . . . I am still looking for reader submissions!!  I have received a few, but need more.  You have until next Wednesday, February 22nd to send them to me.  mistyslaws at gmail dot com.  I know the freaks are out there . . . shoot ‘em and send ‘em to me, y’all.  I’m counting on you!

Ok, here we go . . .  I would be remiss if I didn’t include this one.  You all remember him right?  Douchemobile:

This guy is just so twee it’s killing me.  The suit, the overcoat, the mother loving bow tie!  And the cute little helmet.  All just tooling down the street on his Segway.  Gah!

Then we have our random rubber pants wearing, standing on the street, example of what not to do:

And here we have our basic “tights as pants” example:

 More pants . . . albeit not tights this time.  Just tight.

This one was very very coordinated.  Please note that not only is her hair bright red, but she has matched her boots to her hair, along with having a bow in the hair to match the pattern on her boots.  Oh, and the earrings matched as well.  It is full circle, y’all.

Here is a front view to see the spectacularness of the matching bow and earrings . . .

And I’m sure nobody could forget the majesty that was . . . Mr. Pantaloons!!

Yep . . . Pantaloons!!  You just don’t see someone walking down the street on any old day wearing puffy pants tucked into some type of calf-high boots.  Unless you are surrounded by pirates.  Maybe he’s a pirate?

Here’s another shot:

You should have seen how those puffy pants gently swayed with the motion of his sauntering down the street.  It was truly magical.

This is a bonus.  I saw this ad, and just thought it was fantastic.  This one’s for you, Jen:

This time was not quite as eventful (sadly, no pirates to be had), but still lots of fun.  We decided we would meet up and do a little shopping at this little shop in her hometown, and then go get some vittles at a local pub.  I was really excited to go to her ‘hood so that she could show me the local haunts.  It was set to be a fun experience, no doubt.

So we met at this local establishment called Retro Metro.  This place was totally up my alley.  It had lots of kitschy stuff that was funny, naughty and irreverent.  I loved it!  Here are some of the best finds:

I'm not sure "secret" is the word you are looking for.

This was one of the first things I saw in the shop, so this started off the shopping experience with a bang.  So to speak.

Next we have a plethora of your bacon offerings.  This place really catered to the bacon loving crowd, let me tell ya!

Bacon between your teeth. Um . . . yum?

Great, so I can be hungry for my hour long commute!

Mmmm, bacon.

Who doesn't?

Naughty!!

This next one was near and dear to my heart, for some reason.

It's pronounced "Law-yer."

This next one has my name written all over it.  I need me a Wonder Woman Crunk Cup, yo!  (Psst, my birthday is coming up.  Just sayin’).

Now I just need a gold lasso and invisible plane.

I mean, it’s no pimp cup . . . but it’ll do :

It's a pretty brutal field.

I love it when I see something and it just totally throws me off my game.  This was one such thing.  It was not what I expected and made me laugh out loud.  For realz.  Full of awesome:

Awww, so preciou . . . wait, WHAT?

I really wanted to figure out a way to justify buying the legal post-its, but alas.  They remained neighbors of Jeebus.

Like Cheez-its, but better.

After our perusal of all of the above items and purchase of a few little things for our peeps, we were feeling a might bit hungry, so we went around the corner to a local Irish pub to have some lunch.  As you can see, Thoughtsy was really famished!  She could hardly wait to dig into that crab cake in order for me to take a picture:

Authentic MD crabcake.

My lunch was pretty unremarkable, since I am still dieting, so it wasn’t particularly photographic.  But then we ordered dessert.  See, this was Thoughtsy’s joint, so she had experienced the majesty that was the famous dessert of this place . . . s’mores.  We were given a few options.  We opted for the peanut butter since she had not tried that one yet, and we also opted to share.  Now, I was picturing a true s’more that would come out and we would have to somehow saw through that sucker, but what arrived was much easier to split.

Mmmmm, s'mores.

It was basically a layered and melted bowl of graham cracker pieces, chocolate, peanut butter chips and marshmallows.  It was perfect and delicious.  And really easy to share.  Too easy, in fact.  Plus, as Thoughtsy noted, it was the perfect ratio of chocolate to peanut butter.  Yummy!

Spoonful on the way to my mouth . . . nom nom nom.

Add a glass of wine to that mix, and it was pretty much the perfect afternoon.  We shopped, we ate, we drank, we chatted.  It was fun times.  Plus, I might have even convinced Thoughtsy to come to BlogHer with me in August. 

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Ok all, you have been so patient to read through this entire account of my day out with Thoughtsy, that I have decided to reward you.  While I was in Retro Metro, I also picked up a few items that I am going to share with YOU!!  So, I now present to you, the first ever of it’s kind:

THE MISTY’S LAWS GIVEAWAY!!!

Yay!!!  And the crowd goes wild.  Wait.  What’s that?  You want to know what you will win?  Oh, and you wanna know how to win said item.  Ok, ok.  Details.  Pfft.

I got a few items while there, so there will actually be a couple give aways after this one, but we are gonna start with this beauty:

. . . you love my blog?

This fine hunka hunka chocolate bar is yours if you do one of these things:

1.  Follow my blog.

2.  Like me on Facebook.

3.  If you have done those things already, leave a comment if you have never done so (something good, not just “hi, I’m commenting”).

4.  If you have done all of those already, do something creative in the comments.  Write me a poem, a song, a dirty limerick.  Whatever you want, just be creative.  Points for originality.  (This means you Jen, Johi, Charity, Kelly, Leauxra, etc.  You know who you are . . .  gimme something good!).

I will draw the winner when I return from my birthday trip at the end of the month.  So, basically, it is my birthday, but you guys get the gift.  How amazingly magnanimous am I, right?  You know you love me! 

What I’m talking about is the impending zombiepocalypse holiday.  You know what I’m saying.  Whether you are single, in the beginning buds of a relationship, or fully ensconced in marital doldrums bliss, you know it’s coming.  That most holy of holiest holidays.  Valentine’s Day.

Now, I will tell you that I am not a fan.  I am one of those fully married sorts.  So I don’t get all het up over some Hallmark induced made up holiday.  I mean, besides the whole “why do we have to celebrate our love for each other once a year” reason.  The real reason is that I am just not into all that lovey dovey crap.  I am not a touchy feely person.  And also?  I have no earthly idea what to get my husband for this mainly made up and wholey focused on the female persuasion holiday.  I mean, really.  This holiday is totally for the menfolk to get laid, right?  I mean, it’s super easy for guys.  Buy flowers.  Buy chocolate.  Go to dinner.  Hell, maybe even pull out the big guns and buy jewelry.  Done.  What do the women get for the men?  Blowjobs, ideally.

Tell me the guy who made this holiday up wasn’t just some horny mother humper.  Go ahead.  Tell me.  See?  You can’t.  Doesn’t make sense otherwise.  If it did, there would be some sort of reciprocal type thing that men would get from us ladies, that didn’t involve us bobbing our head up and down in their crotchal region, right?  I mean, what can we buy them?  Flowers?  Nope.  Candy?  Nah.  Jewelry?  Yeah, ok, if you want them walking around like Chandler, sure.  So, you have to come up with something creative, and unless you are just getting them a present (shirt, tie, books, cds, movies, etc.), then how is this different from a birthday or anniversary?  Therein lies the problem.

The hubs actually gets me flowers every year.  And every year I tell him not to.  Don’t get me wrong, I love flowers.  I love the feeling of knowing that someone was thinking about you enough to get you flowers and getting home from work and finding them waiting there for you.  Especially last year when the hubs was away on V-day.  I still got the flowers.  But the problem is that V-day flowers are ridiculously marked up.  Plus, they are the most dreadfully awful one thorn in the grave flowers.  They die practically the next day.  So, they are just a waste, pretty much.  This year I asked for chocolate covered strawberries.  We’ll see.

Anyway, this wasn’t intended as a V-day diatribe.  I actually wanted to share with you some of the fun things I saw in the grocery store last week that are V-day related.  Some are just random fuckery, but also may possibly sorta kinda be something I got the hubs.  Or not.  Allegedly.  (Hubs, if you are reading this right now . . . HAHAHAHAHAHAHA . . . ahem, sorry.  Anyway, stop reading now!).

Ahh, modern day hearts.  No more of this silly, “You’re swell” or “Call me” nonsense.  Now it’s all about the rocking and the texting.  I’m surprised it didn’t say “Sext me” or “Be my tweetheart.”  Next year, maybe.

Why are their heads melted?

Ok, this right here?  Nonsense.  Peeps are 1.  Disgusting,  2.  Supposed to be little yellow chicks, and 3.  FOR EASTER!  Stop it, Peeps.  Stop trying to hoard in on other holidays.  What’s next . . . marshmallow shamrocks?  Peppermint flavored flags?  Turkeys?  SANTAS?  Enough.  Know your place.

Preach it, girlfriend!

Ok, is it wrong that I kinda wanted to buy this tiny little lunchbox?  I find it sort of adorable.  Also?  Word.

Sex, right? I mean, isn't it obvious?

I took this pic because I thought this was just sort of ridiculously funny.  Lover Duckies.  Like Rubber Duckies.  Geddit?  It wasn’t until I went to put it in the post that I actually read what it said underneath.  Um, I think we know.  It’s not that hard to figure out.  And also?  Why do you have to wait until bath time is done, duckies?  Why?  I just think you’re maybe doing it wrong.

Pimp Pen!!

Seriously.  Check out the hat.  It’s a mother lovin’ pimp pen, y’all.  This may or may not have been too awesome not to buy and I may or may not have gotten this for the hubs.  You can’t prove a thing!  STOP LOOKING, HUBS!!  Day-um.

Redneck Fish

This one, sadly, was a missed opportunity.  I can say with all honesty and despair that I did not buy this for the hubs.  I actually saw this a couple weeks ago.  About the same time as I was hiding behind the cardboard Lindt chocolates display, taking a picture of the trainwreck that was the tween wannabe.  It was then that I happened to look up and see this wonderous thing.  I sadly only snapped a pic and went about my way.  Then, this last week, when I returned . . . it was gone.  I can see why.  It is just so darn wonderful.  I mean, what says love more than a redneck, bandana wearing, beer drinking, Earnhardt loving (I’m sure) Fish!!  Drats.

Then, at another fine retail establishment, I saw a bunch of things which will solve all of my problems for what to buy for my man.  In fact, all of any woman’s problems with that issue.  Oh, and another fish:

Don't let THIS one get away!!

I’m not admitting to anything here, but since I wasn’t able to get the redneck fish . . . well, you know.  I didn’t throw this one back is all I’m saying.

The next was a series of “man-type items” in the form of chocolate:

Nothing says love this V-day like a set of BALLS.

You are such a tool.

No, I will not buy my hubs a psuedo dick!

And what is with the freaking abundance of fish themes?  Am I missing something?  Maybe I’m doing it all wrong.  I wasn’t aware that this was such a MAN thing.  Maybe instead of blowjobs, I should just buy him a great big raw carp!

Oh gawd.

Ok all.  That is it for this round of V-day fuckery.  Anyone else see anything whickety whackedy weird re: the big day of love?  I’m sure there is some crazy stuff out there.  But I don’t get out much, so the inventory at the Giant and Target is the best I can do.  Sorry.  Please feel free to share your own visions of love (and it was all that you’ve given to meeeee), ahem . . . sorry.  That one got away from me.  Anyway . . . hit me with your best shot . . .  seriously, I need help.  Someone stop me.

Ok, kids and kidettes.  Today will not be your normal posting about the F-ed up things I see all over town.  I have had to revamp the site and it’s contents a bit, so I am in a bit of a holding pattern at this point.

So, I have had a brilliant idea.  Based on some recent questions and submissions by others, I have decided to open this up to you.  Yes YOU!  I want you to send me any pictures you have of anything whickety whacked.  If you don’t already have any, start snappin’.  I will take whatever you may deem inappropriate, whether it be car, person, animal or mineral.  Whatever it is, send it on over.

And for those of you thinking “I can’t take pictures like Misty does!  She’s a super special secret agent ninja photographer!!  And . . . I may get shanked.  I value my life.  No way!!”  Ok, here’s the deal.  Imma let y’all in on a little secret.  Because we’re down like that.  I am not a ninja.  (Gasps from the crowd!!).  Nope.  I have no super secret training or skills.  It’s really pretty easy.  Basically, just walk around with your phone, ideally already set to the camera function.  When you see something staggeringly awful, just pull that sucker out and pretend you just got a text or something.  Act as if you are pushing buttons, while at the same time subtly shift the camera up just a touch to get the atrocity in the shot.  Then, click!    Then walk away in a swift manner, especially if you were noticed by said specimen of horror.  It is really just that easy.

But be safe out there, peeps.  I don’t want anyone to get shanked on my watch.

You have 2 weeks to get them to me.  Next week’s whacked will be a bit of a rehash of some old stuff as well, but the week after I’m going to need to have your submissions.  I will credit you, of course, unless you ask me not to.  Send them to mistyslaws at gmail dot com.

(Please note that this does not mean to troll the internet for wacky pics, i.e thepeopleofwalmart.com, and then send them to me.  I want original stuff, people.  Remember:  stealing is the most whickety whacked.  And not in a good way).

I will give you one example, and also a little quiz, on this fine friday morning.  This one was sent to me by Jana from Shut the Front Door.  We went back and forth over this one on Facebook and nobody could figure out what the hell this plate means.  Why don’t you give it a try.

Already guessed is:  I love Zoro.  Icey love Zoro.  I Clove Zoro.  I Chart Zoro.  We are thinking it is some language that none of us speak, but damned if we can figure it out.  Give it a go.  Best guess in the comments . . . .

To start . . . yes, I have an au pair. And to answer your next question . . . yes, it is a bit weird having a young girl living in my home, sleeping right down the hall from my husband. And yes, I may be crazy.

I have not previously mentioned the au pair. For a few reasons. Probably the foremost is that I still feel a bit guilty having someone else care for my kids. It feels a bit like a defeat as a mother. But, for the moment, it works for us.  But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some major fucking trial and error first.

Let me start at the beginning . . . I have 2 kids. A 3 year old and a 6 year old. The hubs and I both work full time and always have. The kids were always in full time daycare, at a center, pretty much since they were first born. Full time daycare is extremely expensive. Especially at one point when they were both at the same center concurrently. For about 2 years I paid $2600 PER MONTH. It was completely ridiculous. But I did it because we had to go to work and someone had to watch the kids. And the center was excellent and I felt they were learning many things; not only educationally but socially & developmentally.

The problem, besides the outrageous money, was how much extra time it took to get the kids to and from the daycare and then get to work.  I live about an hour from work and the daycare is about midpoint between home and work.  So it added about an extra half hour each way . . . by the time I got them out of the car, checked them each into their classrooms, chatted briefly with their teachers so I was assured they were aware they had arrived, and made sure noboody was gonna cry when I left.  If you are good with the math, you just realized that my travel time every day was THREE HOURS.  I got up every morning before 5 am and wouldn’t get home until around 6 pm every day.  Then, I got to make dinner, do bedtime, make lunches and try to fit some laundry in there as well.  Then start all over again the next day.  As you may imagine, I was pretty exhausted.

But, pretty much that’s just life with young kids, right?  I was prepared to just deal with it.  But then, the hubs got a different job that was going to require much more travelling.  Like every week, at least 2 days a week he would be away.  And in our current situation, he actuallly got up with the kids and made them breakfast while I showered and got ready for work.  Then I would grab the kiddies and go, leaving him to jump in the shower and go to work after I left.  When he occassionally had to be away, my father-in-law would very graciously fill his role.  But we couldn’t ask him to do that twice a week, every week.  And if I had to do it . . . well, I was already getting up before 5 just to get them to school.  Imagine how early I would have to get up to be ready before they were up and then also have to make breakfast.  No.  It just was not going to happen.

So, we obviously needed some help.  At first, I was resistant to the idea of an au pair.  The hubs had always talked about getting one, but I did not want someone coming into my house, being a replacement mommy.  So I started looking at nannies.  But for many reasons, that just didn’t work.  So I had to seriously weigh the options and give some real coonsideration to this au pair thing.  Based on price and our immediate needs, it ended up being the best option.  So to my husband’s complete and utter surprise, I told him we should get an au pair.  He was very pleased (and I’m sure visions of swedish blonde bombshells filled his sick little mind!).

So then the research phase began.  We went into this like we would if we were buying a car.  Lots and lots of research.  I mean, this would be the person largely responsible for taking care of our children on a daily basis.  We wanted to make sure we had the perfect person.  We had lists and lists of questions and qualifications.  We soon came to discover, though, that there is no “perfect person” and realized we were gonna have to give on some things.  We eventually found someone we thought was a good fit for us.  She was a teacher’s assistant in her own country (used to being around kids, has educational background . . . all good).  She spoke English well (will not fuck up the little guy’s language development – check).  And she could drive a stick shift, which was important because she was gonna have to schlep the kids around and we wanted her to be comfortable with the car that would be available to her.  Also, we skyped with her a couple times and she seemed really nice and friendly and warm towards the kids.  Plus, they responded well to her on video.  The only draw back we had was that she was a bit younger than we had wanted.  She was only 19.  We were hoping for someone with a bit more life experience.  But, like I said, nobody is going to be every single thing you are looking for, so she was the one.

It was only after we picked her and got the visa and travelling process in motion that my hubs had the brilliant idea of googling her.  See, he googles everyone.  Business associates, clients, friends.  He wants to know all about whoever he has any contact with.  However, for some reason, he just never googled her while we were in the vetting process.  He waited until after we had already committed to her to do this.  And he found something.

No, not nude pictures or anything like that.  Minds out of the gutter people.  But he did find some professionally shot photos which looked like modelling shots.  This was worrisome.  We had heard of girls who signed up to be au pairs just so they could get to the U.S. to then go off to be models or actresses or whatnot.  So, we confronted her with this.  Asked her if that was actually her plan.  Asked her to please be honest with us.  She denied it.  Seemed very genuine.  Said she knew of some girls who had done that and thought that was just wrong.  And we believed her.  We didn’t really have much choice.  We took a leap of faith.

Cut to about a month later.  She arrives.  She is super fun and really great with the kids.  My oldest completely adores her.  So much so that he declares that he will marry her when he gets older.  The little one was a bit more distant, but started warming up to her eventually.  She was a great help, especially with the hubs’ new travel schedule.  It was working out well.  I was more relaxed and well rested because I was getting some more sleep.  I felt like a better mommy because I could just come home and spend some time with the kids and not be exausted and annoyed all the damn time.  Also great was those random days that the oldest would be off school, either for teacher conferences or snow days.  There seemed to be a lot of those.  And I would always have to take off work to stay home with him.  But not anymore.  It was really heavenly.

But then . . . disaster struck.  We had been really super generous and nice to her.  We let her travel a lot.  I had kept the little one in his daycare for a while, so she had most of every day off, because I was still schlepping him to school every day and she merely had to make sure my oldest got on and off the bus.  But that ended when the summer began.  That is when we really needed her to drive the boys to camp and spend much more time home with the little one.  At first it was great.  No more driving the boys anywhere for me.  The schedule seemed to work out for everyone.  Except for her, apparently.  Soon after the summer schedule started, she asked to talk to the hubs and me.  So we sat down with her and she explained to us, after living with us for about 2 and a half months, that she was just so homesick and didn’t think that she would get over it and wanted to go home.  This was a complete and utter shock to us.  We were gobsmacked, really.  Plus, the hubs had a 10 day trip approaching that we desperately needed her to be there for.  So, we asked her to really think about it.  And we asked her regardless, to at least give us a month to try to find someone else and get past the impending trip.  She agreed.

So, a couple days later, still angry and hurt, I sent her an email about things we might try to lessen her homesickness (i.e. more inclusion with the family, attempts to be more leanient on some of our rules, etc.).  This is when she tells me that it’s not really homesickness, but that she feels like her life is passing her by here and she feels too pampered with us and she wants to have challenges and be on her own, etc.  Um, ok?  So, we are treating you too well, then?  Sure.

But then, later in that week, she meets with the au pair coordinator and a different story emerges.  Seems the girl just can’t keep her facts straight.  While talking to the coordinator she says that she “just doesn’t want to watch children anymore.”  I’m sorry.  Did you happen to miss the part where being an au pair was about WATCHING CHILDREN????  Sigh.

Oh, but it gets better.  Later, she tells me that her parents have agreed that instead of going home right away, she is going to go to New York for a month.  To try to be a model.  Yep.  I’m sure you saw that one coming.  Unfortunately, we were too dumb to see it.  Live and learn, I guess.  (Oh, and yes, she is absolutely gorgeous, and she did go to NY and did some modelling.  And yes, I still hate her for betraying and abandoning my family.  I have grudge-holding issues, y’all).

So anyway, once we realize that this is an absolute non-starter we obviously need to find someone else.  Quickly.  So I go through the whole process again, this time by myself because the hubs is in Asia at this point.  I need someone fast and I’m trying to get someone who is already in the country.  Plus, I have a whole new set of questions to ask now.  And I must have someone older.  I am not dealing with this juevenile “oh I changed my mind” bullshit again. 

I actually got extremely lucky.  There was a girl, 24 years old, who was with a family in my state.  The family took an instant dislike to her since she wasn’t bubbly and vivacious like their previous au pair whom they adored, and within a week asked for a new one.  However, they were willing to let her stay and watch their kids while they both found a new au pair/home, respectively.  So, for 3 months, she was in this house with these people who did not want her there.  That had to be dreadful for her.  And she was due to go home in a few weeks if she didn’t find a place.  I felt sorry for her.  But that didn’t stop me from vetting the hell out of her.  Fool me once, and all that . . .

Anyway, the good news is that she has worked out wonderfully.  She loves our family, the litte one is actually smitten with her this time (I think my oldest is a bit afraid of getting burned again, so has not been quite as loving.  I don’t blame him), and she has even extended her stay for another 6 months.  Plus, she does laundry and dishes.  Perfect, no?  Anyway, she is older and responsible and actually understands that her role here is to watch the kids and do some stuff around the house.  Novel idea, right?

So, basically our au pair experience has had some highs and lows.  We’ve had some heartache with it, but also some really fantastic experiences with our new au pair.  I’m hoping that that first experience taught us some major lessons and that we will be more selective in the future.  You always learn from your mistakes, right?  At least, I hope we did.

Since I have been named as the Supreme Exultant Ruler of all that is good and decent and awesome (self-proclaimed, but still totally valid and official . . . I am awaiting my feathery glittered sash any day now), I have decided to set forth a set of unimpeachable rules. These rules are set in stone and if they are ever violated, it will result in an immediate and embarrassing death! All shall take heed:

1.  Thou shalt not yell at your kid in public, especially telling said kid to “shut the fuck up” when he/she is crying uncontrollably. Also to include not grabbing an arm of said kid and smacking them repeatedly on their bottoms whilst telling them to shut the fuck up. No.

2.  Thou shalt not talk on your cell phone whilst in a public bathroom. Ewwww.

3.  Thou shalt not turn around and face the person standing behind you on an elevator, thus making them feel uncomfortable and wondering why in the hell you are not standing in front of them facing the doors as any respectable person would know to do who has ever ridden in or heard of the concept of riding on an elevator.

4.  Thou shall not steal Jen’s chair.

5.  Thou shall not propose to, wink at or otherwise flirt in any way with the attorney handling your case if you are currently in shackles. As much as you may think that conjugal visits are a turn on, if you are serving time, you are not a catch. Stop that shit.

6.  Thou shall not wear tights, stockings, panty-hose or any other thin legging material meant to go under clothing AS PANTS. Also, if you are wearing leggings as pants and they stretch out over your ass so much that I can see the shape and/or color of your underwear and every nook and cranny of your cellulite? No.

7.  Thou shalt not furiously and immediately need to pull in front of my car on the highway and then proceed to insist on driving slower than fuck. If you wish to drive that slow, get the fuck over into the other lane and out of my way. I am not driving just to have a pleasant, scenery perusing experience. I actually want to get to my destination sometime today. Go somewhere else with your dickery.

8.  Thou shalt not read my blog for the first time in 7 months of my blogging, which you knew full well about all those 7 months ago (only after I have a full on breakdown and finally tell you how much it bothers me that as the only person in my real life who knows about my blog, that you have absolutely no interest in it and it actually bothers you when I mention it) finally get around to reading it and then tell me that parts of it are “interesting.”  Hubs.

9.  Thou shalt not be a well made, yet low rated new TV show that I just begin to get into and look forward to, just to get cancelled after 12 episodes.  Grrrrr.

10.  Thou shall NOT ask me how old Madonna is during the half time show, and when told that she’s in her 50′s say, “huh, I thought she looks like your age, mommy.”  Bastard child of mine!

Now that you are aware of the rules, be diligent in your adherence to them.  So they are written, so shall they be done..

———————————————————————————————————-

So, what would your rules be?  Have I missed any crucially important ones that should go on the list?  Let me know and I will review and judge whether they are deemed worthy to be included.  Your Queen has spoken.

Lately, I have been seeing this trend of advertising on cars.  I know this isn’t a new trend or anything, but I personally think it’s getting a bit ridiculous, what with the all over painting and graphic designs on mini-vans.  Mini-vans, for the love of pete!  Here is our first specimen:

Traveling Math-mobile!!

Yeah, nothing says “hire us to tutor your child in the fine art of arithmetic” like a half painted mini-van with a seascape on it’s ass.  Sign me right the hell up for that!

This next one scares me.  A lot.

Just stop it.

“Don’t just renovate GREENOVATE!”  Blech.  Quit it with that stupid cutesy crap.  I will never ever “greenovate” now, thanks to you, stupid car.

 

These next ones are not advertisements for anything, per se, but still we have some stuff going on on these cars.  The next 2 are very specific in that they are Ravens fans.  But, just a bit too much:

 

Caw?

I’m just not sure why anyone would do this to their car.  I mean, I’m a Ravens fan and all, but I guess I’m just not that much of a fan?  And this was before we were summarily dismissed from the playoffs.  What is this guy doing now?  Did he remove all the fandom and is just driving around in a white van now?  Somehow, I doubt it.  How sad to see this all year long.

 

 

I don’t know why this one bothers me so much.  It is a very very expensive vehicle with a sticker slapped on it.  I mean, I guess they can do whatever they want with their car since they paid the big bucks for it, but I am just not into putting stickers on cars and I think unless you are an actual Baltimore Ravens football player, this is just ridiculous.  The end.

 

This next one takes fandom a little far as well, but not for a sports team.  No.  For a person.  A long since suicided/killed under mysterious circumstances celebrity.  I give you . . . Marilyn-mobile:

 

That is some extreme fandom right there!

Ok, enough of all that.  On to the jacked up license plates.  You know you wanna see what kind of ridiculousness that people pay extra money for the world to see their statements, right?  Of course you do!  Why else would these douches drivers do it, right?

 

Yummy.

Not sure if this is the driver’s nickname (unfortunate, if so) or just this person’s favorite food, but apparently he/she wants the world to know about it.  Whatever it may be.

 

Really? The FIRST??? Wow.

 So creative!  So informative!  So . . . what?

 

Duly noted.

Although I did not see this driver, it was in the city, with blacked out windows on a Nissan Altima with chains around the license plate?  Yeah, I am reasonably sure that it is NOT a middle aged white woman who is with the Christian left.  Reasonably sure, that is. 

 

Awww, aren't you swee . . . SMACK!

Anyone who refers to themselves as a “lil dol” needs to be cuntpunched.  That is all.

 

Yeah? Well, Ima PC!

Isn’t it helpful when a car just identifies itself right away like that, so you don’t even have to ask.  Undoubtedly the owner (Mr. Mac himself) of this Mac-y car works inside the mall at the Apple store.  Where he gets to make people wait hours for his “expertise” in all things Mac-related.  Thanks a bunch, Mac.

 

Ouch.

Wow, this guy has some issues.  Does he picture himself as some sort of Shark?  Poor Gingy!

 

From Sharks to Jets . . .

And now I’m picturing the two cars above circling around each other, snapping their tires and singing about getting into a rumble.

 

Oh yeah, you are a hole alright . . .

This one.  Sigh.  I think the caption says it all.  Imma gonna leave it at that.

 

Yes, by all means . . . go.

I’m just guessing here (and mostly from the palm trees on either side of this license plate) that this one is a Jimmy Buffett fan and is actually raring to go to an island.  I’m thinking this is a good plan.  Like a completely deserted island.  In the middle of the ocean.  Far far away from here.  And me.

 

Helpful info.

This one is just really informative.  I mean, it’s always helpful to know where you might find a Queen.  That way, if there are any impromptu coronations or say, grocery store openings, you can easily call on her services.  And really, two would just be too much, really.  I mean, who would get to wear the tiara and hold the scepter?  Would they take turns?  That just ain’t right.

 

Pretty good, how about you?

 You know, it’s rare that you find such a considerate car nowadays.  I mean, really.  I’m usually just driving to work everyday behind cars that just cannot take the time and effort to inquire about my current state of being.  But not this car.  This car cares!  And wants to see how I am doing on this fine morning.  Well, thank you car.  Thank you very much.  I am doing well, by the way, since you asked.

Say no more, mon amour!

I don’t know what this one is trying to say, but I immediately thought of Sexy Rexy from Empire Records when I saw it, and of course that made me think of Thoughtsy from Thoughts Appear.  “Oh Rexy, you’re so Sexy!”

 

Ok,  you guys . . . I have oh so many more!  I apparently have collected a vast amount of ridiculousness on the road in the last mere month of driving around.  People are really ridiculous.  But this has gotten way too long already, so I will just leave you with one last spectacular display of douchetasticness on this post and save the rest for a future one. 

 

No sir. It's spelled D.O.U.C.H.E.

 You’re welcome.

 

So, in the spirit of earth consciousness, I am gonna practice some recycling today, y’all.

Here’s the thing.  I am in a down period.  I am just not happy (unlike some people . . . ahem, Shane.  Fucker!  <—- with love!).  I have actually been a bit weepy for no apparent reason lately as well.  Songs, TV shows, commercials, even the hubs joking with me and me thinking he is being mean.  Yeah, I’m apparently that girl, now.  And no, before you even go there, it is not that time of the month.

I don’t know what all combination of fucktardedness has befallen me;  the weather, my crappy job, the darkness, my family or just plain ennui.  Whatever it is, I am strapped to this crazy emotional roller coaster via razor wire and I cannot seem to get off.

So, as you might imagine, while I am in this current state of funk, I am just not feeling very creative.  I’ve been trying really hard to try to come up with something funny, something interesting, hell even something to bitch about, but I just can’t seem to get the juices flowing.  Well, unless by juices you mean random bouts of tears, because those have been flowing freely, and I hate it.  It pisses me right the hell off!

But because of this current state of non-creativity, what I’m gonna do is recycle some of my old shit.  So really, I’m not being lazy, I’m being considerate of mother earth, or some excuse-making bullshit like that.

Now, if you haven’t gone back and meticulously picked through all of my old blog posts (and really, why haven’t you?  Damn, I thought we were down like that), then some of this actually might be new material for you.  Everyone else might be bored because you have seen it all before.  Feel free to just move along, then.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you:

THE BEST OF MISTY’S LAWS:  A JOURNEY THROUGH PICTURES

This first one had an entire post all to itself.  It was also one of the very first I ever did.  I believe that this picture encompasses everything that is wrong with society today . . .

No, I wasn't in Jersey. Or Italy even.

It's like she's wearing a couch on her feet!

Sex-ay!

Side view

That is a sweet ride, my brotha!

WTF?

Gettin' some tail.

Playing Reindeer Games

How did this happen???

Looks like a fun evening . . .

Are you a solid gold dancer?

Rock on, nana!!