My mom, my aunt and I leave for Schaumburg, IL tomorrow morning to shop at The Streets of Woodfield and Woodfield Mall. On Sunday we’ll be heading up to Gurnee to shop the big outlet mall, Gurnee Mills. On Monday we’ll be back in Schaumburg spending our time eating Swedish meatballs and checking out the goodies in IKEA. To say I am excited is an understatement.

Of course, the last time we went I started my period the minute we walked in the hotel. Because that is what I do. For whatever reason, hotels make me bleed from the vagina.

You see, for about the past 5 years whenever I set foot in a hotel I immediately start my period. It doesn’t matter if I just finished it a week ago or I’m not due to start for another two weeks, my vagina is going to bleed.

Cleatus and I went to the Amana colonies for our anniversary a few years ago. We were just about there and I started. Cleatus and I went to Six Flags for the weekend a couple years ago and when we were getting ready to leave for the hotel  I started. Cleatus and I have gotten multiple hotel rooms for multiple anniversaries and NO HOTEL SEX! Just blood!

(I did manage to spend a night away with Cleatus for my birthday this year with no blood, but I think that was because we were in some freaky, space-themed room (with a space ship bed!) (and black lights!) (also, no door on the bathroom!) (that part sucked!) and, apparently, my vagina doesn’t have a rule about bleeding in outerspace.)

Who wants to bet that I start my period the minute I walk in the hotel door tomorrow? Anyone?

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I shook hands with a munchkin, y’all.

Sadly, that is my one claim to fame. Well, that and the fact that I once ran away from home to go visit Bob Dole. I didn’t actually make it to Bob’s house before the police hunted me and my friend down, so I’m not sure how famous that makes me. Oh, wait! I ALSO met OJ Simpson’s lawyer’s wife at our local library. Only I’m pretty sure that she was just an INSANE bag lady, because she kept peeking out the windows looking for some woman that wanted to put her cat in the microwave. True story, cross my heart and hope to die! And when my friend and I told the librarian about the nutcase at the window, the librarian asked us to leave. What a whore.

I digress.

I like The Wizard of Oz. When I found out that there was a Wizard of Oz park near our home, I was pretty excited to take my kids. I must admit that I had rather low expectations considering that I’ve been living in this area my entire life and had never heard of this park before.

The night before our trip to the park the kids and I watched the movie to prepare ourselves for all the excitement. The next day the kids and I headed off to (see the wizard) the park, and my expectations were met. The park was kind of not fun. Kind of boring. Kind of run down. It was still a cool experience though.

And, really, how many kids can say that they not only met a real munchkin, but also got to walk on an honest to goodness yellow brick road?

They look thrilled to be munchkins, don’t they?

The next day we decided to go to a local orchard and pick apples.

I must say, picking apples is a little over rated, and also kind of scary. I kept expecting the trees to start throwing apples at us. I’m happy to report that we made it home safe and sound.

If only I could figure out what to do with an entire peck of apples my life would be complete.

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“A lot a bit?” Are you fucking kidding me? That doesn’t even make sense. Why can’t you say “A little bit of salt, and a lot of pepper.” I do not want a lot a bit of pepper. I don’t even know if it is “a lot A bit” or “a lot OF bit.” It doesn’t make sense either way you say it and I JUST DON’T LIKE IT, IF YOU SAY IT AGAIN I WILL STAB YOU IN YOUR STUPID HEAD, OKAY?

And how about “anywayS.” Yes, with an “S” at the end. That isn’t even a word! And, yet, I find myself saying it sometimes! “So, anyways, we…” Gah.

But, here is the kicker, y’all. There is SOMEONE that I am rather close to and talk to quite often. I will not name names because, well, I’m nicer than that. Anyway(s), this person says “don’t” when they should say “doesn’t.”

I know, I know. You are thinking that don’t sound like a big deal and I’m screaming IT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE A BIG DEAL, JESUS H. CHRIST, DOES NOT! DOES NOT! DOES NOT! But, obviously, it is a big deal. This person (whom I love dearly) (obviously) (or I would never speak to them again) has done this FOREVER, and I go through little spurts where I don’t notice it, but then after a few months I start noticing it again and I have to literally BITE MY TONGUE to keep from screaming.

It really ISN’T a big deal and I rarely ever correct them (sometimes I JUST CAN’T HELP MYSELF), but lately? Lately I have noticed MYSELF saying don’t when I should be saying doesn’t. I will be talking and before I’ve gotten the word “don’t” out I’m already thinking to myself NOOOOO, DON’T YOU DARE DO IT, DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING THAT! YOU SPEAK PROPER ENGLISH, YOU STUPID SLUT!, but by then I’ve already said “don’t” and I feel horrible about myself. Just horrible. And slutty, too!

I used to work with a lady who, I SWEAR TO GOD, must have slept through every damn English class she ever took. I was constantly correcting her and eventually she flipped out and total me to shut the fuck up, she could say whatever she wanted to say however she wanted to say it. I totally deserved her little rant at me, but MOTHER FUCK! WOULD YOU JUST TRY TO SPEAK PROPER ENGLISH? YOU ARE MAKING MY EARS BLEED!

Are you a grammar cop too? Or do you just let people be?

Oh, and I know I’m not perfect. I start sentences with “and” and “but” and I end sentences with prepositions (though, apparently, there is no actual rule stating you aren’t supposed to do that). I’m sure I mispronounce words and use incorrect language a lot. I just like to judge other people for their mistakes okay? Let’s all ignore mine.

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When it starts to get colder out, I start baking and cooking and preparing myself for the winter by packing on an extra five or thirty pounds. I have to stay safe from the cold! Fat is the best way to do that! I’m sure of it.

I made chili this week. I made (two batches of) cookies. I made vegetable soup. And I’ve been making lots of crockpot chicken tacos, my new most favorite meal in all the land. But, forget all those, I’ve also made my favorite fall dish. Sausage dressing.

Wait! Come back! I know it isn’t Thanksgiving yet and you think dressing is a Thanksgiving dish. Or maybe you think it only goes with a big ol’ turkey or roast chicken. Either way, you are WRONG. So very, very wrong. Sausage dressing is DELICIOUS, no matter what the main course is. In fact, I’v been known to eat the leftover dressing for breakfast. Make it with meat loaf, make it with grilled chicken, make it with crab cakes, just make it! (Okay, don’t really make it with crab cakes. That might not be the best idea.)

Now that I’ve convinced you that sausage dressing isn’t just for Thanksgiving, let’s make a shopping list. You’re going to need a loaf of white bread, sausage, celery, onion, cream of chicken (or cream of mushroom) (or both!) soup, and sage. Mm, yummy!

First things first. Let’s tear up the bread into small bite-sized pieces and stick ‘em in a 9×13 baking dish. I use about 3/4 of a loaf of bread.

I love bread. Carbs are my friend.

Pop your bread in a 400 degree oven while we work on the rest. We just want to toast it for a bit.

Chop up your onion and celery. I used one smallish onion and about 5 stalks of celery. You can use more or less. Whatever. I’m not picky. You shouldn’t be either.

Alright, let’s get busy. Enough of this fooling around. Start browning your sausage in a big skillet. When it’s about half way done dump in your onions and celery. Sniff it. It smells good, doesn’t it?

Alright, your sausage is cooked through, your celery and onions are soft, and your bread is toasty.

Mmm. Toasty.

(It’s a horrible picture. I know. Let’s just acknowledge the fact that sometimes food doesn’t want to be photographed [and also that I don't know what I'm doing here] and move on. Thank you.)

Dump your sausage and veggies into a big bowl and add in your cream of chicken (or mushroom) (or both!) soup. Stir it all up into one big gloppy mess. I used one family size can of cream of chicken, but I always have an extra smaller can on hand for emergencies.

Dump your sausage-soup mixture on top of the bread and mix it all up. You want to be sure to coat every little piece of bread with the soupy goodness. Trust me on this. A piece of dry bread in this recipe would be, well, a tragedy. If you need to, go ahead and open up that smaller back up can of soup and drop a couple spoonfuls in.

Now run the back of your spoon along the top of the mixture to smooth it all out. I like to get it as smooth as I can, but that’s just because I think it’s fun to smooth it out. I suppose it would taste just as good if you were less enthusiastic about the smoothing process. You can take your chances if you like.

Oh, and don’t forget to sprinkle some dried ground sage on top. I probably used about a teaspoon. Use more if you love sage, use less if you don’t.

Cover your dish with foil and bake it for 45 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another 15 minutes or until the top gets nicely browned.

I know the smell is going to be tempting, but I advise letting this cool for a bit before shoving your entire face into the dish. Third degree burns are painful.

Mm, dinner. And lunch. And breakfast too.

Sausage Dressing

• 3/4 Loaf of white bread
• 1lb breakfast sausage
• Celery
• Small Onion
• Family Size can (26oz) Cream of Chicken (or mushroom) (or both!) soup
• Sage

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Tear bread into bite sized pieces, place in 9×13 dish and put bread in oven to toast.

2. Brown sausage, onions and celery until cooked through. Do not drain.

3. Transfer sausage and vegetables to a large bowl and add soup. Mix well.

4. Remove bread from oven and pour soup mixture on to bread. Mix together well, making sure to get all of the bread coated in the soup mixture.

5. Smooth mixture with the back of a spoon and sprinkle with sage.

6. Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Remove foil and bake another 15 minutes or until browned.

7. Serve with turkey, chicken, or waffles. (Maybe not waffles.) Enjoy!

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I played around with the idea of getting a whole new bedroom set for me and Cleatus and giving our old (crap) dresser to Cindy-Lu. Then I looked at prices of bedroom sets and died a little. Then I mentioned my idea to Cleatus and he ignored me. 

What we ended up doing was buying the exact same dresser that she had already owned because 1. It lasted 4 years, 2. It lasted 4 years even though I was the one who put it together, and 3. It only cost $50. 

Cleatus (procrastinated a few days and then finally) got it put it together and I (procrastinated a few days and then finally) drug it into Cindy-Lu’s room and got it all set up and put her pretty little clothes in it. 

That was two days ago. Today? Two of the drawers have no bottoms. They fell out. TWO MOTHERFUCKING DAYS. 

Cleatus is still out of town (the dickhead) so I was the one that had to fix the dresser. I used duct tape. Obviously.

I would mention that when I put the same exact dresser together it lasted for 4 years and how I am a far superior dresser putter-togetherer, but then that might become my job in the future and let’s face, I don’t need any more jobs.

Speaking of jobs, Cleatus actually offered me the daily task of applying his deodorant for him after I bitched about how much he uses.

I turned the offer down. I totally would have taken the job though, if he had offered some sort of compensation…say THIS, maybe? 

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I told him to take the Mac with him. Sure, it’s a rather large screen, but Macs don’t have seperate towers or anything so it’s MOSTLY portable. Yeah, yeah, he’d need an outlet and a place for the keyboard and mouse, WHATEVER. He could have made it work if he would have tried. He just doesn’t love me enough to try!

I think the real reason he took my laptop was not so that he could use it, but so that I couldn’t use it. I am feeling all…MOTIVATED today. I have cleaned my son’s bedroom from top to bottom. I was on my knees for a long damn time (Dear Cleatus, No. Put your wiener away. Love, Me.) scraping bits of rug off of the wood floors. Yes. Scraping the rug off of the floor. I do not recommend those stupid foam backed rugs with the roads all over them. They are evil. If the kids want to drive their cars on roads, SEND THEM OUT TO PLAY IN THE ROAD FOR FUCK’S SAKE! I moved furniture. I folded laundry. I DID STUFF, DAMN IT. Stuff that I wouldn’t normally have time to do, because I would normally be using my laptop. 

Now I’m stuck with this stupid dumb Mac (Yes, Cleatus. You told me so! Macs are not as cool as I thought!)  and I have to sit at the stupid dumb desk instead of the couch and I can’t figure out how to work spell check. The red squiggly line appears under misspelled words, but HOW DO YOU RIGHT CLICK THE WORD? There is no right click on a Mac. DUMB, I TELL YOU! 

I guess I’ll go clean or something. Damn it. This week is going to suck. 

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No? Not legal?

I didn’t think so either.

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Me: I just don’t understand why everyone thinks she’s so gorgeous. I don’t see it!

Cleatus: Are you kidding? She’s fuckin’ hot.

Me: Really? SERIOUSLY?

Cleatus: Yeah! I’d do her.

Me: Huh. I just don’t see it.

Cleatus: Well…I’d do her, but I wouldn’t do her HARD, you know?

Me: You do realize that I’m telling the internet you said that, right?

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We hopped in the car and headed off to school. I pulled in the parking lot and noticed how empty the lot was. I looked at the clock and slowly realized that school didn’t actually start at 9:30am, it started at 9:00am. My baby was a half hour late her first day.

I came home and opened up a therapy savings account for her.

Eeyore and I went to pick her up (at the right time, THANK GOD) and then headed out to our local museum to see the Grossology exhibit. If your local museum has this going on, I highly recommend checking it out. The kids had a blast.

I had fun playing the full sized operation game. I still suck at it, but I kicked Eeyore’s ass. He was too worried about putting bones in the lungs and the kidney in the legs and generally just MESSING UP MY GAME.

Then we pumped soda into some dude’s belly and made him burp.

And we climbed all over a big wall of skin. Like rock climbing, only ickier!

And then, my friends, we squeezed a bottle and sniffed a little tube thingy and tried to guess what we were smelling. The options were A. Mouth, B. Armpit, C. Anus, or D. Foot. You think I am kidding but I am not. I have photographic proof.

I, of course, was too chicken to go first, so I told Eeyore to squeeze the bottle and take a whiff. He was having such a good time and in such a hurry bouncing from one thing to the next that he didn’t take the time to read the list of smells he might be about to stick his face in to.

He squeezed. He got all disgusted looking and he shouted WHAT WAS THAT? So, of course, I squeezed and sniffed and I GAGGED. I would have puked had they had a bucket nearby. I guessed that I had just gotten a whiff of someone’s anus, but no. It was someones armpit. And I’m not afraid to say that dude seriously needed to shower.

I really wanted to try out the anus smell, because SERIOUSLY. Have you ever smelled bottled anus? When would I ever get the chance again? I chickened out though. If the armpit was that bad, I didn’t’ think I’d be able to stand the anus smell.

Be honest, if you had the chance to sniff the anus, would you do it? Would you secretly want to?

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Yesterday? Cleatus’s check engine light came on. (In his car. Cleatus doesn’t have an engine, so far as I know.) The car is under warranty so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but STILL. It’s a little worrying, you know? We took the car to the auto store to let them run their magic wand over it and tell us what was wrong with it (What? They don’t use a magic wand? Huh.) and FUNNY STORY! The light was on because Cleatus didn’t tighten the gas cap. No need for me to panic about the engine exploding! (So, yeah, I suppose that worked out okay. IT WAS STILL A PAIN IN THE ASS.)

Then yesterday afternoon I did YET ANOTHER price check on the plane ticket that I asked Cleatus to order ONE MOTHERFUCKING MONTH AGO (but I’m not BITTER or anything) and SURPRISE! We (and by “we” I mean HE! HIM! HIS FAULT!) waited so long that the ticket price has increased by over two hundred dollars! Of course it has! OF COURSE! Yes! I love spending ELEVENTY-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS ON A STUPID PLANE TICKET.

He still hasn’t ordered the ticket. We’re waiting for the prices to RISE EVEN HIGHER. Because we are MADE OUT OF MONEY, DIDN’T YOU HEAR?

(But, I’m not bitter.)

Today I went shopping, because I NEEDED THE SHOPPY and guess what? Go ahead and guess. The check engine light in my van came on! HA! OF COURSE IT DID! I can just hear God now. “Huh. I could have SWORN that I fucked up their car. Oh, that’s right! The car is under warranty and the van isn’t! I decided to let them off the hook with the car and FUCK WITH THE VAN.” I haven’t been to the auto store yet for the magic wand treatment because I. JUST. DON’T. WANT. TO. KNOW.

And now, for the icing on the cake, MY GOD DAMN MOTHER HUMPING WASHING MACHINE just stopped working. ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!1!

So, here I sit, waiting for my laptop to spontaneously combust. It’s only a matter of time you know.

UPDATE: Plane tickets are now over twice what they were the first time I told him to book it. He is now driving 2200 miles (round trip) instead of flying. (AND, NO, I’M STILL NOT BITTER.) (Oh, who am I kidding? I am VERY bitter. BITTER BARBIE. That is me.)

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