I don't need Nostradamus, this makes it very clear to me.

So, whilst browsing a stupid catalog I received in the mail today I came across a little summin, summin'.

It is exactly why I know that the end of the world is near.  Very near.  Check it out please and then go build a safe room or a cellar or something.  Just build baby.

The Pet High Chair.

Satisfying a mutual desire for companionship, this high chair permits your dog or cat to accompany you at the dinner table. The high chair clips securely to tables up to 2" thick and its height adjusts without tools to elevate your pet to near eye level. It has a frame of powder-coated 5/8" steel tubing and its arms are rubber-coated so they will not mar table surfaces. By providing an alternative to sitting on your lap, running disruptively underfoot, or outright banishment, the chair assuages a pet (and its owner's) frustration, and promotes more refined behavior. The chair's 600-denier tan/brown nylon fabric cleans easily. Two tethers on the chair protect your dinner guests against any lapses in etiquette. Folds for convenient storage and travel. For pets up to 10 lbs. 10" H x 12" W x 9 1/2" D. (4 lbs.)

This thing cost $49.95!    Seriously?  This satisfies a "mutual desire for companionship"?  This worries mel  And some poor schmuck had to write that copy.  Oh dear Lord, the end is near. 

Forgive my sarcasm but you gotta be shittin' me?!

So Littlest Pet Shop has taken over my home. And I'm friggin' pissed.

I can't take it anymore.  The little toys.  The Littlest Pet Shop, The Polly Pockets, The Legos, The Knex.  You name it, they are taking over my home.  I tried to pee in the eldest child's bathroom and had to remove a whole Littlest Pet Shop habitat before I could even lift the lid of the chamber pot which is a commode which is a TOILET!  I stepped on a chameleon and a lion or a puppy or a kitten not sure which...anyhoo.

I am sick of the little toys and this is coming from a woman who played with Smurfs.  You know the Smurfs.  LOVED THEM!  My mom still has my Smurfs.  Papa Smurf, Smurfette.  She's got 'em.

Now if I threw them all over the Master Bedroom floor and tried to navigate over them during my 4:00 a.m. pee (face it we all do it) I would be PISSED. Clearly there is some connection between my urinary habits and little toys and if anyone out there is studying something like this, I could be available for some sort of paid study group.

In the meantime, the little toys are taking over.  There is no rule, no organization, no hope.

Smurfette, help me now.

Calling all Beautiful and Funny People, You know who you are!

My self esteem is in the shitter.  I hate this time of year.  I need the sun and some money.  God I need the money.  And some sort of self worth.  I don't got it right now.  I want to be brilliant.  My kids are sucking the brilliance.  Actually they are the brilliance I just showed up to sign permission forms.

I'm cool.  I just want to be cooler.  I used to have so much more style.  I've lost a bit, I want to get it back.  It will come.  Right?  Indeed.  My brother and I discussed the power of attractiveness and humor.  Are relatively attractive and funny people treated better than those who lack humor and good looks?  I think so.

What do you beautiful and funny people think?  (I mean it.)

Do you think these questions might show up on the Census?

Did you know that because I live in the West, I am more likely to have breast implants?   If I lived in the Southeast I'd be rockin' some serious derriere implants.  

Now, I do not have breast implants and have mentioned in a past post I quite like what The Good Lord (or G*D, that's a shout out to my friend over at wifemotherexpletive.blogspot.com , she'll get it)  gave me.  Derriere implants, are you serious?  Buying jeans is tough enough, petite in length, but not "Mom jeans"  but not so low that I risk showing off the fact that I have birthed 3 large children.  I mean really, we need to add extra room for my derriere implants so that making buying said jeans puts me directly into the funny farm?!  Luckily, I don't live in Florida, this will not be a problem.

I am at risk for being tempted by other invasive procedures such as Liposuction and an Eyelid Lift, you know because I live in the West.  Tummy tuck, no. The folks in Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi want that more than me.  They live in the Southeast.  It's what they do.

Now on the minimally invasive front, Botox, soft-tissue fillers and a random chemical peel might get me through my 40's.  That's how we Westerners roll.  What about Botoxing my ass, Chemical peeling my boobs and then just adding some soft-tissue filler to my tummy.....that way I am just accentuating what I already have going.    Why stop this train from wrecking, I'm well on my way!

So, is the Census 2010 compiling this information?  I mean this is important shit.  We need to know.  When the Census Man/Woman comes knocking on my door, I'm speaking the truth.  Leave my body alone.  It rocks!

Because if I didn't you would have been disappointed.

Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers.

So I had a little medical procedure done last week.  It wasn't anything cosmetic.  Totally a necessary surgery that did not make my boobs bigger.  It doesn't matter, I already have nice boobs.  I was very, very nervous about said procedure as it required general anesthesia and some hard-core pain management.

While waiting in the hallway to enter the operating room, I found myself getting rather emotional.  For the past 3 weeks, I have been rather stoic.  Didn't want the rest of the world to know how I terrified I was.  I am a rock,  I see humor in everything.  Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride.  Except seeing my beloved doctor standing there holding my hand trying to calm me down.  I lost it.

The anesthesiologist  kindly administered something (Lord knows what it was but did I ever need it) and asked if I could say "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers."  Is this a challenge?  Do you know who are talking to?  I came in here with super high blood pressure because I thought "the higher the score, the better you are!"  I am the highest of high achievers, bring it on.  So I proceeded to say "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers" over and over and over and over.

Into the operating room, they wheel me still blabbering about "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers."  Now I have an audience, I was coherent enough to notice.  Well, this just makes it worse.  I know this about my self.  This Narcissist LOVES an audience.  Especially when I now these people are about to see a part of my body that doesn't get much exposure.  The Man in My Life couldn't agree more on the statement.

With the audience in the palm of my hand, clearly impressed with my ability to slur "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers"  I proudly announce, "You know I can really hold my liquor, I'm Irish."  At that moment they quickly put something over my mouth and INSISTED that I breathe deeply.

Can you imagine what the said about me for the next four hours?  Only a Narcissist would wonder.