Donald Trump

What an arrogant POS.  Is there anything he doesn't think he's good at?  Oh yeah, being poor.  He'd suck at that.

I will admit I've watched his crappy show in the past, but I really couldn't get past the fact that he looks like he has a rodent nest on his head and the sun constantly in his beady eyes.  Those shots with him by his helicopter with the blades churning and the nest NEVER moving really freaked me out.  His coat would be whipping, he'd practically be tipping over from the wind, but the nest stayed put.  Not even the slightest ruffle.  WTF?  With all his money, can the man not buy a mirror?  How much does he have to pay his people for them to say his hair looks great?  Who is his hair stylist?  The world should be allowed to know so that we can all stay the hell away from him/her.

OK, so The Donald (does he prefer that name or did someone make that up for him?) is already treated like the prince of some small Middle Eastern country (seriously, who else but those guys and The Donald takes a dump on a throne literally made of gold??) and now he thinks he'd like to be President of the United States?

I read a few months ago he sent a top aide to Iowa to promote his bid.  I'll give him props for finding Iowa at least.  When I lived in NYC, most New Yorkers confused Iowa, Ohio and Idaho.  They were all the same state in their minds.  Luckily, I was from Kansas and they all know Kansas.  Well, actually they only know two things about Kansas: "Do you know Dorothy?" (She's a fictional character, dumbass.) and "Was your house ever destroyed by a tornado?" (No.  Have you ever been pushed in front of an oncoming subway train?  Because I get all my knowledge about New York City from "Law &Order," just like you obviously get your information from "The Wizard of Oz.")

But, in true out-of-touch-with-the-masses style Trump was quoted by The Des Moines Register as saying that he planned to meet "many, many people - maybe all the people."  In Iowa??  Really, Donald??  I realize that to a big city slicker like yourself, Iowa seems pretty small, but that's a bold comment.  There are over 3 million people in Iowa, you douche.

You've had a few months now to meet all the people of Iowa, Donald, how did that go for you?  My cousins don't recall making your acquaintance and you're a pretty memorable guy so I'm thinking you weren't able to meet all the people of Iowa.

What a jackhole.  Who says stupid shit like that?  Megalomaniacs.

When I heard he was going to host a Republican debate I thought - Oh good, something to really laugh at.  Seriously, can you imagine that guy hosting the debate?  He'd never let a candidate get an answer in.  He'd ask a question and then answer it himself.  That debate would run for days, because he wouldn't shut up.

He's such a dick.

I'm glad to see no one really took him seriously and agreed to come to his debate.  Well, that's not true, Gingrich and Santorum said they'd come.  Of they course they did.  Gingrich would make an appearance at an opening for a 7-11 if he was promised a soundbite and at this point, Santorum was just happy to be invited to any debate.  (When will that guy get a clue and quit?)

Wow.  Are Americans really going to rally around this asshat?  What gives?  Is Newt not condescending enough?  Is Bachmann not crazy enough?  Is Cain not dumb enough?  Is Romney too good looking?  Is Obama too compassionate?

We're in serious trouble here if there are actually people out there who think The Donald would make a good President of the United States.  What are his qualifications to be President?  He's a joke.  The world already laughs at us, do we really need to give them more fodder?

The sun is setting on our empire and we've got Trump who thinks he should throw his hat in the ring?  What does he do except buy buildings, make them tackier (Can you imagine the White House during his "reign"?), declare bankruptcy (3 times), say "You're Fired," brag about himself (a lot), write a book (or 17), and marry beautiful women who get paid handsomely to sleep with him and produce heirs (I realize I'm not even close to being hot enough to be in the running to be the next Mrs. Trump, but if I were, there isn't enough money in the world to get me into bed with him.  I'd choose Hef before him.  Or that really old guy that Anna Nicole Smith married.).

I don't care if you vote Republican or Democrat, just please, don't vote for this moron.

Christmas Wrap Up

Well, the kids were able to hold out until 7:30 this morning.  The boy was the first to awake and after about 15 minutes, he begged his sister to wake up and open presents.

It took me a year to buy the gifts, a week to wrap them, several days of looking for a lost present and 18 minutes for my kids to open them in a flurry of wrapping paper, tissue paper and tape.

I couldn't find the Santa present for the boy.  I looked in every hiding place I have.  I decided to go with Plan B - the skateboard.  I ran out on the 23rd and bought a skateboard, a helmet and knee and elbow pads.  Once I had made up my mind I was willing to go with Plan B, I (of course) found the original present yesterday.

By this time, I had heard from several people warning me the original present (a K'Nex Rollercoaster) can take an average of 9 hours to build.  Two hours in the ER sounded like a treat compared to the Hubs and I killing one another at 4 am a midst a thousand tiny K'Nex pieces.

This morning when the boy saw the skateboard, he was stunned.  He never really thought I'd approve the skateboard.  He was sure Santa would be forced to leave the K'Nex - or books.  He was pretty excited, but in his usual fashion, he tried out the skateboard on the carpet and about fell off it.  He became concerned and asked in wavering voice, "Mommy, how do you think I can practice on this thing without falling down all the time?"

That, son, is the number one reason I didn't want to buy this thing for you.

It's like our own version of my favorite Christmas movie - "A Christmas Story."  The boy won't shoot his eye out, but he'll probably fall down a lot, just like I predicted.

Merry Christmas!!  Thank you for making this the best Christmas ever for me.    

Saying Goodbye to the Elf on the Shelf

I can't believe that tonight the Elf on the Shelf will go back in his box (I mean, fly back to the North Pole to be with Santa, blah, blah).  Gotta keep the "magic" alive!

It's been a big season for our Elf.

We've owned our Elf for about 4 years now and we finally got around to naming him this year.  Privately, the Hubs and I had called him the "little bastard," but to his face, he was "Elfie."  We'd never written it in the book though (I can never bring myself to write in a book - it just feels so wrong), so the name was up for debate since it wasn't "set in stone."

After much negotiating and power brokering, he was christened "Choppy Elfie."  I have no idea why.  Mostly because it was a compromise between my kids.  The boy liked Elfie and the girl like Choppy.  So, Choppy Elfie it is, because Elfie Choppy didn't have the same ring to it.  Good thing I don't have 4 kids.

This year Choppy Elfie's powers over the kids were not as strong and I was a little disappointed in him.  He was slacking a bit this year.  At one point I found him swilling out of a beer bottle - I'm beginning to think he spent most of the season drunk!

Tonight he will go back in his box, but some people are suggesting I bronze the little guy.  After all, when he came out of his box in November - OK, mid-December - less than 100 people had ever heard of me or my rant about him.  Now 1.5+ million people have read the rant, I have 26,000 people on Facebook who like my blog and I'm getting hate mail (a sure sign that I'm doing something right).  It's not the world domination I have planned for 2012, but it's a great start and he was there for the beginning of it.

I can't bronze him.  That would ruin my kids' childhood.

No, Choppy Elfie must go back in his box.  Some others have suggested I leave him out in a place of honor all year.

I can't bronze him and I can't leave him out all year.  If I leave him out, he'll get a swelled head every time he checks his inbox and sees people wetting their pants, crying tears of laughter and LTAO (Laughing Their Asses Off).  His ego will be enormous and we don't have room for that - mine takes up way too much space.

I'm sorry, but Choppy Elfie must go back.  He shouldn't be sad.  He should feel like he had a great season.  We had a good run and in the end, I even remembered to move him a few times (thanks to all the reminders from people on FB).  If people are sad about Choppy Elfie going back in his box, they should remember I never set him on fire (accidentally with a lamp or on purpose with a campfire for roasting s'mores); I never put him in compromising positions with Barbie or Dora or Santa or G.I. Joe; I never hung him from the rafters; and I never made him fish out of the toilet.  I kept his dignity and that's saying a lot in this house.

We will miss Choppy Elfie and we will be excited next November - OK, mid-December - to take him out of his box and welcome him back to his familiar circuit of perches: three kitchen shelves, the mantle and the Christmas tree.

We love you, Choppy Elfie and this Mama is sooooo glad people decided to go Elfin' CrAzee this year!!

Just A Few Things For the Week

I know, I know.  How grumpy can I be this week?  I started the week with 70 awesome followers and I was thrilled if I got 300 page views in a day and then I caught a fever and now I passed 1 million page views, I've got over 1,000 awesome NEW followers here on the blog and over 19,000 amazing people on  Facebook who have "Liked" my page.  It's been a pretty fucking awesome week.

But you know me, I've always got something that's irritating me, so here come some mini-punches:

1.  Random strangers who "worry" about my children's childhood.  With all the attention the blog received this week, I was consumed by love from so many people (thank you, thank you).  HOWEVER, there were several detractors out there too (thank you, thank you for giving me inspiration to write this post).

I really touched a nerve with this whole Elf thing and apparently because I don't make snow angels in flour or write notes from the Elf to my children and I bitch about occasionally forgetting to move their elf, my children are suffering greatly and I should probably be investigated.  No one came right out and said, "Call Child Protective Services!" but many "worried" and "felt bad for" my kids.  A lot of people are concerned I do nothing all day but sit in front of the computer, swilling beer and harping on "good" mommies while my children eat their own feces and bang their heads against the wall trying to get my attention.  Someone even suggested I don't like being a mom.

To that person, I'd like to give a very special "Fuck you very much."  Being a mom is the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't need to move a goddamned doll around my house to prove that.

Now that I got that out of the way, I'd like to put these other concerns to rest.

I tend to write early in morning (it's 4 am right now and my children are safely sleeping in their beds upstairs - I think) or while my children are at school.  The Hubs and I are both self-employed and work from home so when our children are not at their schools they are home with us (daycare just isn't for me) and if I need to write while my children are here, I have the Hubs to attend to their every whiny need. (Whoops, the worried moms aren't going to like that I called them whiny - but they are sometimes!)  

It is true, I don't believe in making every single waking moment of their precious lives spectacular and wonderful.  (The worried moms got that part right.)  I don't think that's a bad thing and I definitely don't think that makes me a bad mother.  I think that by treating every moment with them like it's a fucking miracle is doing them a disservice down the road and I think it turns them into self-indulgent little nightmares now.

You know what?  This ain't Disneyland and the sooner they realize that, the better.  Some days are just boring and they suck and the sooner my kids realize that and learn how to entertain themselves, the better.  I can't be responsible for all their happiness - some of it has to come from within.  What's going to happen when they're 20 and still looking to me to make them happy?  Right now it's easy, but if I keep raising that bar, by the time they're 20 what can I do for them to make them happy?  It's not funny when a 6 year old throws a temper tantrum because he's bored, what will it be like when a 20 year old pitches a fit because he's bored?

Not to worry, we do make memories as a family.  Just yesterday, I actually put down my beer and pushed my fat ass away from the computer for an hour to take lunch to my kids at school.  It was not a Bento Box filled with organic, homemade food with sandwiches cut into the shapes of dinosaurs or anything like that.  It was a Happy Meal - flame away.

We went and looked at Christmas lights last night after dinner.  Hell, tonight, I took them Christmas caroling in our neighborhood!  Christmas caroling, people!  I wanted to punch myself when we were done - but I did it.  BTW, both kids will remember this night, just in different ways.  The boy had a blast.  He was surrounded by his friends running through the neighborhood like a feral animal singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs.  The girl never opened her mouth to sing and after two houses, she begged to go home.  I didn't say every memory we're making is a good one!

We read Harry Potter last night before bed.  (I sure hope someone forwarded my blog to J.K. this week.  If you're reading this - I love you, J.K.!  Call me!)

I read to my kids, I play games (video and board) with them, I talk to them, I make crafts with them, I volunteer at their schools, I cuddle them, I even spoil them occasionally (aren't we all guilty of this?), I dress them like tiny rockstars, they are always well-fed and happy most of the time.  They have a beautiful home to live in that is warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  They attend award-winning schools and live in a safe community.  They have a social calendar that would make a Kardashian cry.

So, please don't "worry" another second about my children, because it really bugs the shit out of me and this time I was nice, next time I won't be so polite.

2.  Anyone who thought my Holiday Letter was legit.  (It was probably the same people who worry about my kids.)  I just want to be clear here:  my blog is meant to be funny.  It's called sarcasm.  If you can't get sarcasm, then I'm not sure we can be friends.  There seem to be a lot of other blog options out there for you to try.  Google "Cutest Little Blog Award" and see what pops up.  I bet you'll find your kind of people there.

3.  The guy who sat behind me at "Breaking Dawn."  I went to see "Breaking Dawn".  (Yes, I'm a TwiMom - is anyone surprised?)  The movies are absolutely laughable, but I still have to go and see them.  I was totally Team Edward while I was reading the books - Jacob is such a whiny bitch he actually makes Bella seem pleasant.  Once I saw who they cast, I was over Edward.  My dilemma is that Rob is the only actor who is legal, so I can't publicly fawn over Taylor's abs.  I'll just say when I see Jacob standing shirtless in the cold rain, I laugh out loud, but at the same time I appreciate the view.  It's about time a male actor was made to do some gratuitous topless shots.

My friend was going to go with me.  After much wrangling of our schedules and childcare options, we finally found a midday show that would work for both of us.  At the eleventh hour, she was reminded she'd offered to babysit a neighbor's kid and had to back out.  Since I'd already found a babysitter for my daughter and I was in the mindset to see Jake's abs and Edward's blinding lack of abs, I went ahead and went alone.

I thought I'd have the theatre to myself.  Middle of a weekday...teenybopper movie...Boy, was a I mistaken.  Apparently, there is a large number of seniors who are into "Twilight" as well.  TwiFogeys?  The theatre was full of groups of older women and several elderly couples.  I actually stepped out and checked the marquee to make sure I was in the right place.  It was correct.

OK then.

I found a seat and the movie started.  The man behind me wheezed a lot through the movie.  I'm used to noisy distractions in "Twilight" movies, but usually it's caused by teenagers making out and I have go all "mom" them and yell, "Would you please just SHUSH???"  (Yeah, I said, "Shush."  Those are someone's kids, and as much as I'd like to, I just can't say "Shut the fuck up, you half wits, Edward is proposing!!")

I tuned out the wheezing and focused on the horrible makeup job on the vampires.  (The budgets keep getting bigger for these movies, but they can't seem to find a good makeup artist who knows how to blend.  A vampire does not have a pasty face and a tanned (tan-ish in Edward's case) neck and chest.

About halfway through the movie, the man stopped wheezing and coughed.  Not a little cough like cough, cough.  But a COUGH, COUGH.  He coughed so hard my hair moved in his "breeze"!  I thought, Fabulous.  Now I've got typhoid.


Sure enough, that night I was puking my guts out.  Fourteen bucks worth of popcorn absolutely wasted.  Nice job, Typhoid Larry!

4.  Holiday cookie exchanges.  One more thing to worry about during this festive season.  I've actually noticed my invites for cookie exchanges dropped off this year - I don't think I'm making the cut anymore.  I'm OK with that, actually.  There are things I'm good at, but holiday baking is not one of them.  I do not have the patience necessary to decorate adorable sugar cookies or dip cake balls or whip up amazing Snickerdoodles.  Presentation means nothing to me.  I have no problem slapping my slice and bake cookies on a paper plate and calling it done.

I hate bringing home cookies from the cookie exchange.  What if they're horrible?  I know mine are, so chances are someone else's are too.  I'm really picky about who baked the cookies too.  There's always that crazy cat lady who comes and brings Peanut Butter Blossoms.  PBBs are my favorites, but I'm afraid I'll find a cat hair in them.  I did once - this is where my fear comes from.

I'll leave my cookies, but I try not to bring any home.  I'll say I'm trying to watch what I eat or something lame like that.  Then the hostess will say, "Take some to give as gifts!"

Give as gifts?  Do I want that on my record?  Do I really want to give my mailman fur-laced Peanut Butter Blossoms?  Or my kid's teacher chocolate covered hockey pucks?  No, no, no.  It's bad enough that I expect my family to eat these unknown cookies, but I can't give them as gifts!

5.  Pinterest.  Can someone please explain this to me?  I got an account a few months ago when I needed new garage doors.  I was trying to find a design I liked and a friend directed me to Pinterest.  She warned me I'd be on there for "hours."

I bet I haven't spent one hour on Pinterest.  I must be a complete idiot, because I can't figure out how to work the damn thing.  I can re-pin other's finds, but I can't pin my own findings.  People find me and follow me, but I can't seem to follow back.  I can search it and find some cool shit to pin like amazing kitchens and playrooms, but I'm not sure why I'm pinning this stuff since my house looks nothing like these homes and I could never recreate these rooms in my house.  I noticed my blog is on Pinterest and I didn't even know you could "pin" a blog.

I don't get it and I know a lot of you do.  Educate me.  Tell me what I'm missing.

6.  In that same vein is Twitter.  My SIL emailed me yesterday and told me that my blog was all over "The Twitter."  This cracked me up, because I don't even know how to tweet.  I'm a twat?  Ugh.  The Hubs spent a couple hours today figuring out Twitter and getting an account set up for me @Throat_Punch.  Now I've got followers and I don't know what to do/say to them.  I don't know the etiquette of Twitter.  Do you tweet your every movement (bowels included)?  Do you just repost stuff?  What's with the hashtags?

Do I really need to be on Twitter?  What's the point?  Again, tell me what I'm missing.

Governor Sam Brownback AKA "Baby Brownback"

Wah!  What a complete and total baby!  Once again, I am amazed by how ridiculous elected leaders in our country behave.  A few days ago an 18 year old girl from my area went to Topeka for a field trip.  Her class had to endure some dumb comments made by Sam Brownback, our illustrious governor and wannabe President that nobody wanted.  Emma Sullivan, the girl, was bored by Brownback's comments so she tweeted a joke to her friends:  “Just made mean comments at gov brownback and told him he sucked, in person #heblowsalot.”  


Believe it or not, Brownback's staff actually searches daily for offensive and disrespectful comments made about Brownback on the 'net.  What a complete douche bag.  As a tax paying citizen of Kansas, I am infuriated that this is actually part of someone's job description and that my tax dollar are paying for it.  


After Brownback cried to his mommy, I mean Communications Director, this woman contacted Emma's school and demanded an apology for being "disrespectful" and her school is pressuring Emma to do it.  WTF?  Is this 1939 Berlin?  


First of all, why is the school even involved?  Yes, this was a school field trip, but Emma has parents and if you have a problem with Emma it needs to be taken up with her parents not her school!  Unless Brownback is sending a clear message to our school districts:  We are watching you and if you want our funding you will keep your students in line.  



If Emma was my daughter she'd be in trouble for lying (she didn't actually talk to him).  We'd talk about how the Internet is forever and not at all private - if she puts something out there, she'd better be prepared to defend it.  But she would NOT write an apology.  In fact, I'd go to battle with the school over that one.  They could kick her out for all I care and I could join the millions of homeschoolers in my great state - only I'd teach evolution and sex ed.  



The second problem I have is that Brownback's office is trolling the Internet looking for anything that might tarnish his image.  You can't just silence someone who doesn't like you, Brownback.  


And my third problem is, how did they find Emma?  Most teenagers that I know have their Twitter, Facebook, et al. accounts locked down so that only their friends can know who their full names.  How did Brownback's office find out her name?  As a parent this would frighten me.  If Brownback can find her, any perv can.


It just seems like Brownback is reaching and really abusing his power.  Fuck you, Baby Brownback and your little minions too.  


What happened to freedom of speech?  Since when can't we tell our politicians what we think of them?  Sure, it was a tad immature, but she's a high school kid!  And at the end of the day, Brownback DOES blow and I'm thrilled she knows it.  I live in Kansas where I feel like I'm surrounded by a right-wing Christian army of lemmings all waiting to jump over God's cliff when the anti-Christ comes to Planned Parenthood, so it is nice to see a girl who realizes Brownback DOES suck and isn't good for our state.  After all, what companies would want to bring their headquarters to a state with such a record for ignorance?  


You know, I WISH Emma had been able to tell him he sucks, because it would have been refreshing for someone to tell him to his face instead of having to blog about it and then be threatened by his office, which by the way makes him even more immature than Emma.  How old are you, Brownback?  You're an elected politician.  If you can't take heat from a random 18 year old and her silly tweet, then how can you be expected to do your job?    


Since Emma didn't have time and now it appears she'll probably be hit with a gag order, I'm going to tell you all the reasons why I think Brownback sucks and I dare him to tell his Communications Director to tell her assistant to tell a staffer to tell an intern to call me (eh, they'll probably call my daddy or my husband since I'm a silly woman) and demand an apology.  


I am a registered voter in Kansas.  I am an adult with an opinion that I like to share.  I believe in the Constitution and the freedom of speech.  I'm not yelling "Fire" in a movie theatre, I'm just saying "Bite me, you pussy."


Brownback has cut all of our state's funding for the arts (the only state in the union without it), he's so pro-life he's actually taken out ads saying Romney isn't and thinks a woman who was raped should be forced to keep the child (Fuck you very much on that one, Governor), he voted to ban gay marriage and called it a social experiment (But when hetero divorce is at 50% THAT'S not an experiment.  Nope, people are really taking those vows seriously unlike the gays would.), he must really have a hard on for gays, because he also voted no on adding sexual orientation to hate crimes (I guess gays just have it coming?), he voted to loosen restrictions on cell phone wire tapping (I can expect that tomorrow, I'm sure), he does not believe in evolution and refuses to fund the classes in our schools (And don't worry, folks, sex ed will be next), he voted against background checks at gun shows and he was given a 100% rating by the Christian Coalition for his pro-family voting record ('nuf said).  You can see his complete record here.


You might wonder why I stay here if I'm so displeased with my Governor.  


Well, I live in my own little bubble here in Kansas.  I live in a beautiful city where the cost of living is low so I can afford a lovely home and I can travel and get the hell out of town when I want (or pay for an illegal abortion, if necessary).  My kids attend award winning schools and I just teach them evolution and sex ed at home.  I can afford to be self-employed in Kansas and work from home - the best of both worlds for my family values.  


I've lived in other cities around the country and it isn't any better.  Kansas is just the lesser of the evils for me.  

Even though Emma probably wasn't as polite as she should have been, at least she wasn't this bad.

Continuing Education

I have to take continuing education every year to keep my job.  It's a necessary evil.  There are many places I could do it.  I could go to a professional school and pay, I could pay and listen to the lesson online and take a test to prove I listened or I could go for free to the real estate commission and take the class there.  If the class still has room, I typically go to the free one.  I hate going there though, because you're treated like a criminal the entire time and you're surrounded by nutjobs.

The commission has a strict policy for what time they start and if your butt is not in a seat, you don't get credit.  Period.  The last time I went, I got there 1 minute (no exaggeration at all) past the start time and they would not let me in the room.  Because I'm a total procrastinator when it comes to CE and my license was going to expire at the end of that week I didn't have any other choice than to throw a hissy fit in the middle of the commission and beg them to open the doors.  The women there just stared at me like I was a 4year old having a temper tantrum (I'm sure that's what I looked like - I was desperate after all) but wouldn't let me in the room.  I finally left in a huff - mostly irritated with myself for being late and screwing up, but a little mad at them for not letting me in. I have no love loss for the commission.  I went home and had to plunk down 40 bucks to take the class online and take a test.  Ugh. I hate tests.

This time I left the house an hour before the class started (I live 20 minutes away.  Max.).  I didn't want to take any chances this time.  I got there plenty early and had my pick of seats in the room.  I realized that I didn't have my glasses (I don't wear them all the time) and so I needed to sit near the front so I could see the board.  I sat in the second row on the aisle seat since I'm a lefty.  I hate when my elbow bumps into my neighbor's.  I busied myself with reading the rules of the day:

1.  Turn off all cell phones, PDAs, iPads, any electronic device.
2.  NO talking or whispering.
3.  You must be inside the room when the class begins and you must return from all breaks with plenty of time before the class begins or you will not get credit.

The room started filling up and a older woman with a typical "Realtor look" (puffy, helmet hair, Chico's-type clothing with a few too many accessories and a lot of makeup) sat down next to me. She had a Bluetooth earpiece in.  I've always had a pet peeve for those things.  I just want to say, "Beam me up, Scottie!" whenever I see someone with those things in their ears.  She was chatting away on her ear piece:

"Good morning!  I hope you are ready for a productive day!"  (WTH???)  "I won't be in this morning since I'm in class so you'll need to make the coffee.....Yes, I know I have a lot to do today, but what can I do?  I have to take this class.  I'll just have to really hit it hard this afternoon....Yes...it will be tough for me to just sit here and not do anything.  I'll just have to though. "  She glances at me to see if I'm listening.  Right then I thought to myself, Liar!


I would bet just about any amount of money that she was talking to herself.

"I'm going to need your help this morning.  I'm going to need 5 CMAs for Mike, Rob, Sam, Joe and Larry, because y'know, I'm going to list all their houses next week."  Bullshit.  Next week is Thanksgiving.  No one is going to list their house the week of Thanksgiving, let alone 5 people!  This woman was putting on a show for the rest of us.

"I'm also going to need 3 or 4 buyer agencies written up for those buyers I'm meeting with tonight."  What???  No way, no now.  You would know EXACTLY how many buyers you are meeting with tonight and you'd never stack 3 OR 4 on top of each other.

At this point, I just turn in my seat and stare at her.  I'm not going to eavesdrop anymore, I'm just going to make her lie to my face.  I'm positive now that she's calling her voice mail and leaving all this on her own machine.

She has to hang up now, because the class is getting ready to start.

The class starts and I count not 1, but FIVE people who come in the room in the first 5 minutes of the lecture.  I am irritated, but I ignore this blatant breaking of rule 3.  One of the latecomers slides into the aisle in front of us to take an open chair.  She has a huge purse and she accidentally knocks over Bluetooth Lady's hot coffee and spills it all over her Chico's-type outfit.

"Mother of God!" Bluetooth shouts.

Big purse turns around, "Oh, man, did I do that?"

"Of course you did!"

"Oh.  Wow.  OK."  Wow.  That was bold.  I don't like Bluetooth Lady that much either, but I would apologize if I spilled hot coffee all over her.  I'd also try to find something to mop up the coffee with.  Not this chick.  She just sat down and got ready for business.

The instructor is staring daggers into Big Purse and Bluetooth Lady.  Big Purse sits down in her chair while Bluetooth wrings out her top.  Bluetooth looks at me and says, "Can you believe she did that?  She didn't even apologize."  I put my finger to my lips.  No talking or whispering.  I'm not going to get thrown out of this class for you, Bluetooth Lady.


Within two minutes of Big Purse sitting down her phone starts shrieking.  And I mean shrieking.  She has recorded children yelling or singing (I can't tell the difference) and that is her ring tone.  She starts messing with the phone trying to turn it off.  She looks like something out of a comedy movie.  She throws it in the bottom of her enormous purse, but we can still hear it.  She pulls it out and pushes all the buttons and actually increases the volume.  She actually sits on it!!  No one's butt is big enough to silence that phone.  Finally, she stands up and ducks into an adjacent room.  She fumbles with it for another minute until finally the instructor yells at her.  She comes back in the room and now her phone is in pieces.  She had to take the battery out to make it stop.  Genius.

Speaking of Genius, here are some of the discussion questions we had in class that day.  Three mind-numbing hours of questions like:

(Remember, these are experienced Realtors.)

"So....if I don't have a written and signed contract between a buyer and a seller, someone can back out?"

"Wait a minute, FSBOs (For Sale By Owners) aren't listed by Realtors?"  (Yes.)  "Oh, OK, so where do I find those in MLS (Multiple Listing Service - used only by Realtors)."

"I live in Kansas and I sell in both Kansas and Missouri.  I need to pay taxes in both states?  Oh crap.  Yeah, I've never done that before.  My accountant never mentioned it.  I'm sure I don't owe much.  Eh.  It will be fine."  (I didn't have the heart to say you must also pay a separate tax on any property you sell in Kansas City, MO.)

"I usually sell residential, can I sell commercial?"  (Yes, a real estate license can be used for selling residential real estate AND/OR commercial real estate.)  "Oh, OK, cool.  Wait, but a commercial real estate agent can't sell residential right?"

"You really think we should give our advice to our clients?  Hmm...I really hate giving my opinion.  I could be wrong."  (What are you getting paid for then?)

And my favorite.  We were talking about personal safety and I was shocked and horrified to find out how many of my fellow Realtors carry concealed handguns when they're showing houses.  Can you deduct that as a business expense???  I need to call my accountant!

Michelle (The Uterus of Steel) and Jim Bob (Super Sperm) Duggar

Seriously, Michelle and Jim Bob?  Can't you two just keep it in your pants for once?  It was weird and sort of interesting when you had 14 kids, but now you're just reaching carnival freak level.  I think Jim Bob is a controlling Jesus-freak who believes he's a god on Earth lording over his own little Duggar Country.  I can't even find a hint of a person there that I could understand or communicate with, so I'll talk to Michelle.  We're both women, we're both mothers.  I've seen pictures of her before she started perming her hair at home and watching Jim Bob at all times for any sign of displeasure.  She once looked normal and fun and happy, surely we can find common ground.

I just have a couple of questions for Michelle:

1.  Do you wear adult diapers every day? I've only had two kids and let me tell ya, there have been more times than I'd like to admit that I have had trouble getting to the bathroom in time.  My bladder is not as strong as it once was and it degraded exponentially with each child.  I can't imagine what yours must be like.  You must just walk around with full pants all damn day.  If not, then maybe I should rename this post Bladder of Steel.

2.  Do you ever tell Jim Bob you have a headache?  Seriously, woman.  Your hoohaw must be barely recovered from birthing the last baby before Jim Bob comes around again looking for nooky.  Would it kill you to take a night off and give him a bottle of Lubriderm and tell him even God got to rest?

3.  Do you ever get to choose the name of the kids?  I've only watched a couple of episodes and every time you guys were deciding on names for the newest arrival (shocker) and "Daddy," as we all like to call him, was giving everyone a chance to vote, but his vote was supreme.  And that bastard went against the majority and picked his own choice every time.

4.  What's with the "J"s?  I'm assuming it's because Jim Bob is a narcissist.  But let's face it, you are running out of options and at this point, you're just making names up ("Joy-Anna" and "Jinger").  Plus, you've got a lot of variations on the same name:  Joy-Anna, Johannah, Jana.  And really, you went with Jinger before Jennifer?  You still had perfectly good "J" names left, you didn't need to start butchering the "G"s.

5.  Do you have a clause in your contract with TLC that for every kid featured on the show you get more money?  For me, it's the only logical reason to have 20 kids.

6.  Could you tell your silly son to get his own shtick?  I saw him on the Today show yesterday with his two kids (20 months apart!!) with names starting with "M".  Stop that nonsense right now.  I barely want to watch your show, there's no way I'm going to watch a show about him.

7.  Do you worry at all about the world's population and the strain it causes on the natural resources?  Or do you think God will just make the planet bigger to accommodate good Christians who choose not to use birth control?

8.  Do you worry at all about your health or, more importantly, the health of your baby?  That last one should have given you enough of a scare to get a hysterectomy.  That baby barely survived and you barely survived.  You want to live the Little House on the Prairie life well let me tell you, you would have died on the Prairie, Ma, and so would your baby.  Who will take care of your 19 children if you die during childbirth?  Not Jim Bob, that's for damn sure.  That's women's work.  Good thing you have so many daughters.  I guess they can just step in.  They're technically raising most of the other younger kids already, so it won't be too different I guess.

9.  Do you worry about the example you are setting for your daughters?  Are they looking forward to their lives as baby factories and dairy producers?  Not to mention professional homeschoolers and laundresses.  I don't see many other options available for your girls.  I don't see anyone encouraging them to follow their dreams.  I'm sure you've got one or two who dream of being full time mothers to a large brood and that's fine, but I KNOW there has to be at least one trying to figure out how to get out of the hell hole known as Duggar Country.  I know there's at least one daughter dreaming of going to away to college to study something other than Bible Studies, or one thinking of running off to Hollywood or one that just wants a cute little pixie cut!

10.  Why are you so damn ultra competitive when it comes to birthing babies?  Why do you have to push your 45 year old self to have yet another baby?  I think I know. You've got a daughter in law now with two babies just 20 months apart.  She's on your heels.  Do you feel that pressure?  Are you playing the odds?  Hoping Anna will give up after 12 and cry "uncle"?  Hoping Anna's uterus will give out on number 15?  Hoping Anna's 45 year old eggs will be too old and dusty to get the job done?

Chill out, Michelle. Take a break.  Put those feet (and constantly swollen ankles) up and breathe.  You've got this.  You are the winner.  No one (except maybe your own family members) wants to even try to give you a run for your money.  You have the greatest uterus and possibly, bladder, that ever lived, now put it to pasture and call it a day.