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Saturdays are better without headaches.

I've had a headache for 3 days, so I'm just letting the kids empty the TV stand while I sit here on the computer.

Athena has decided to put on "Sex in the City..."

They immediately said the F word. Perhaps I should get up and put on Harry Potter instead.

Athena said she'd take care of her sister for me today.

How come when Athena's in charge Zofia will use a pacifier??

I hope someone brings me a taco. That could possibly salvage the day.

Mmmmm.... my foot tastes scrumptious.

While cleaning out our linen closet, not only did I find plenty of drugs that expired during the Clinton administration, I also stumbled upon my brush belt from my days as a makeup artist. It got me all reminiscent of the time where I actually left the house, talked to adults, and wore makeup and fancy clothes. A time where I was "Nadja" instead of just "mommy."

Speaking of being Nadja...

You'd think that someone with a name so similar to the word "nauseous" would be extra sensitive to others with, ahem, different names. As I was looking through my old work stuff I thought of the time that I had to ring a transaction for a fellow makeup artist. She was making a purchase for her mother and needed me to look up her mother's credit account.

Her: "I'll just spell her name for you and you type it in."
Me: "Okilly dokilly."
Her: "D-O-N-G..."
(I give her a smirk and one-eyed glance.)
Her: "S-U-K."
Me: GUFFAW!!! "Very funny! I typed the whole thing in!"
She raises her eyebrow at me. "What's so funny?"
Me: "Seriously, funny. I fell for it and typed the whole thing in. What's her name." (Why isn't she laughing? She's good at this game.)
Her: "That IS her name. My mother is Japanese. I'm Japanese. Her name is pronounced "Dung Sook."

Unfortunately the ground did not, in fact, swallow me up like I was praying. I apologized profusely, gave her her items, then rolled around on the floor in stupid agony.

Moral of this story? Be kind to all the Nauseas, Dong Suks, and Colon (sic) Powells because that REALLY is their name. You don't want to look like and ass like me now do you?

I think Dave Chappelle might be my guardian angel.

I was working out on my new elliptical with my giant nursing boobs almost hitting me in the face when I thought, "You know what? I'm getting a breast reduction after all this. I'm tired of these huge things!" And I went upstairs to tell Louis he should start saving now. Upon entering the living room I noticed that Dave Chappelle was on and it's the skit where he takes this big-boob-hating girl to see what her life would be like without boobs a la Christmas Carol. In the end she realizes that life is better with her boobs and that Dave is actually just a janitor "who loves titties."

Coincidence? I don't think so, Dave.

Chappelles Show
It's a Wonderful Chest
www.comedycentral.com
Buy Chappelle's Show DVDs Black Comedy True Hollywood Story

(Also? That's my favorite Axe commercial.)

Honey Badgers Don't Sleep

Well, at least mine doesn't. Zofia had a new thing where she would cry off and on from 3:45am to 5am and wake herself up by standing up and running off the couch.

Cool.

Then she got up and threw up all over me. This is extra special because vomit is one of the "O's" in my OCD.

In the depths of my despair I sent out a lonely tweet that my "honey badger won't sleep!" and "Dare I move my honey badger to the crib?"

Twitter responded with Honey Badger-bots that sent me this gem:

Another video narrated by Randall. Thank you Twitter. Thank you so hard.



(In case you're wondering "What the F is a honey badger," I talked about it here.)

Here's to sleep filled, vomit free days! Cheers!

What? You act like I haven't blogged in 3 weeks.

OK, you're right. I haven't. I'll address that, but first I just wanted to do a light, ice-breaker post. So here's Athena's and my favorite video of the moment. Watch it, don't watch it. Whatever. Honey badger don't care...

Sometimes in life you've gotta eat some rocks.

Random fact about me: I'm a cake dropper.

It's a pretty severe affliction. Hand me a cake and chances are I'm going to drop it. Cupcakes, cream pies, good ol' fashioned cakes... they all hit the ground with a tasty splatter.

I was just reminiscing about when I worked at a coffee shop and all the birthday fun that was had there. My coworkers helped me bake a cake for Louis' birthday, which in itself was stupid since he hates cake.

As a notorious cake-dropper I was nervous taking it out the door. Success!

Drive it home. Score!

Now this is where I went wrong. Not only am I a cake-dropper I'm also a one-tripper. I will hang things from every available appendage and pile crap on my head before I make two damn trips from the car. No way Jose. I can get this shit in one! Even while carrying a cake.

Um, no I can't! I told you! I'm a cake dropper.

Smash it goes on the porch. ARGH! ASSFACE!

Know what I did? I got a fork and ate most of it before Louis got home. Sure, there were some bites with rocks in it, but isn't that just the way life is? Pretty good with a few hard bites.