Wheeeeeeeeee!!! I’m back, bitches!

Well, not entirely and not exactly the way I’d like, but bitches beggars like me can’t be choosers, can we?

So I’ve highjacked my bro’s extra laptop which just happens to be the same make/model of my own beloved feckered up the arse laptop. Apparently I whined about my lack of puterism just enough that my bro practically threw his extra at me in an attempt to shut me the feck up. It worked! Wheeeeeee!! Ten  years ago, I would have put on a huge production, acted all offended and such, but now? Shame? What’s shame? Feck the shame, ’cause I’ve got a puter that works, babes and babelettes!

Let’s pretend it’s Tuesday and we’ll just go with the random theme, shall we?

Little Man has met with the therapy dog (Buddy) twice now. He has gone from squeezing himself into the smallest, furthest corner of the room when Buddy enters, to eventually putting his hands on Buddy’s tail and back. We still have to check for dogs within a 2-km radius here at home when we leave the house, but the idea is that eventually his ease with Buddy will translate to less stress around unknown dogs.

Have I told you how much I’m loving all over our psych for Little Man?? ALLLLLL OVERRRRRR, dooooods. It’s a good thing I don’t swing in that direction (though my hair stylist does – have I told you that before? I must tell you about her – she’s a hoot! Wooo hoooo -tangent anyone?), ’cause if I did, our psych would be my, well, um, first, shall we say? Not that she’s particularly hot or anything, but she’s totally helping my kid and I HAVE to love all over anyone who can help my kid.

All of this said, I “fecked” and “Geedammit-ed” several times in the car today because I am in a constant state of walking on eggshells. This kid can rage with the best, babes. RAGE. Fecking rages. We’ve had a bunch of those lately. Basically, not enough sleep equals way too many upsets and bullshits. Aye.

That said, I went to my doc this afternoon in the hope of finding some relief from the headaches I’ve been having every day for three weeks. In my best Arnold Swartzagoverner voice, “it’s not a tum-ah.” Well, not yet, anyway. I’ve got some tranquilizers (up to 6 per day, baby – wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!) and if I’m not better in two weeks, they’re going to do a head-o-botomy. Ok, not really, but it sounds like I could be in for some innnnneresting tests. I went through this back when I was a young teen. Headaches that wouldn’t go away and wouldn’t be relieved by Tylenol or Advil. Just another way I’m fecked up, basically. Whatev’s. It’s all good.

Little Man is registered to attend our local private Christian school in the fall. I say this with a tinge of relief and a heavy dose of anxiety. I’ve been stressing my ass off (ack, I wish! more like stressing my ass astronomically large) about the decision and what full-day SK will mean for LM, but our psych (hi there!) has a great plan and I’m going to try to roll with it. Ok, you’re right. Kia doesn’t roll with ANYTHING. Let’s pretend I do though, ok? It makes me sound like I’ve got my shit together.

So yeah. We’ve been interviewed by the principal, a board member and presented to the entire board and they’ve decided that we’re just the kind of feckered up individuals they’d like to take thousands of dollars per year from, all in the name of education under God’s eternal light. Or some shit like that. Oh? What’s that you say? I sound cynical and not at all spiritually sound enough to send my kid to a Christian school? I know! It’s crazy. I even came out and told them that I have no idea where I stand (though I’m leaning toward Bitter Sister of Christ) spiritually right now and they still want our money  me. I’m guessing they’ve found out about my fantastical craftiness and my aura. I’m pretty sure that’s it. Yeah, it’s the aura. Even though I talk thru my ass 90% of the time, I’ve got a rocking aura. People like me. Poor feckers. They have no idea. (Or, if I’m being more realistic, they probably think they can A) save my ass  or B) extort  lovingly extract more money from my in-laws, who are founding members and already throw lots of money at the school. )

I’d love to update you with every little detail of my life. You know, the mess in my family room, the yeast infection, the books I’ve been reading, the sex I’ve been avoiding, etc. But I can’t! I’ve promised myself that I’ll try to visit some of your blogs tonight and actually return some lovin’ for a change.

I’ll leave you with this: Little Man’s latest project is to load up the shelves in his room (which happens to be decorated in an insect motif, because he actually LOVED the fecking bugs 2 years ago) with animals (fake) and reptiles (also fake) who EAT insects in the hope of somehow driving the (fake) bugs from his bedroom. Is it wrong that I find this whole exercise entertaining and HIGHlarious?

I promise (thought my fingies might be crossed behind my back (yes, I can type with my tongue, in case you’re wondering)) to get my act back together and post regularly again. I’ve missed you all, my lovelies.

 

Kia