-image-Dear Jackass Letters…a series.

June 17, 2008 | bitterness

Dear Jackass,
Don’t frigging hack into my stupid blog. That’s twice now. Why MY blog? Go after someone big, for cripes sake, not me. I have an estimated readership of 4. Or, here’s a thought… um, if you have such an important message to deliver, why don’t you start your own blog. Or run for office…unless your country doesn’t have a democracy. Then start a blog…unless you’re censored. There must be SOMETHING more productive to do with your time, passion and computer expertise then hack into my blog and ruin my day. Oh, and I hate you. So go suck it.

Hate you!
Stacy

——-

Dear Jackass,
Ya see that two-laned gravel trail leading up to the back of your car?

That’s my DRIVEWAY. Don’t fucking park in front of it again. NO, I’m not planning on going anywhere, but that’s not the point you skunkbutt. If I were going someplace, you can bet your polycovered ass that I’d be all huffin’ and puffin’ some mighty forced politeness through gritted teeth words to have you move your stupid car. And don’t think you’d get away without me shooting you The Death Glare.

ACKKKKKK,
Stacy

——-
Dear Jackass,
Seriously? Who invites gossip rags to their weddings? Maybe it’s just me and my own smalltown opinions, but that seems rather desperate and self-absorbed. Best of luck on your third marriage and someday explaining to your two youngest girls why you called the marriage to their mother a “con.” Not that I even want to know what went on, but sweet baby Jackass, dude, you’re a douchebag from the $1.00 bin.

I give you 3 years tops.
Stacy

-image-Dic this, beyotch.

June 3, 2008 | bitterness, random randomness

I just made up a word. I think. I haven’t checked with lexicon lawyers or those addicted to Scrabble, but check it: scugly. As in Scary ugly. This hideous thing served as my muse.

Check your local di
wait.
stop.

It’s on urban dictionary dot god damn com. Not that I’m bitter. Like Bitter Ugly.

Bitugly. YES, now that’s going to sweep the nation. Just you wait…

-image-Like Swiss Cheese! Only grayer.

May 14, 2008 | bitterness, random randomness

I’m losing it.

WHY did it take my husband to finally clue me in to my idiotic thinking about daycare? He didn’t read the post, but he did alert me to my quickly atrophying noggin when he alerted me to the fact that schools aren’t out yet, which is why all of those children of teachers are still in daycare.

Honestly, I kind of thought it was mid-July or so. I realize that would mean I’m back at work and that that makes no sense, but … well, instead of mocking me, let’s just pray that all of English beef I ate in April 1996 hasn’t come back to haunt me/eat away my gray matter. No really. The FIRST newscast I saw when I returned from this particular stay in europe (and a couple weeks in England) was breaking news about mad cow disease. I’ve got it. Scouts honor.

So yeah. I have mad cow’s disease probably. But more importantly, I don’t have effing daycare lined up yet and instead of freaking out about it more tonight, I’m going to go to bed.

-image-You know how sometimes…

The Office, bitterness, family

I’m a big asshat who procrastinates and waits until May 13 to start calling around for childcare and DOH Stacy, places are filled up so now I’m screwing the giant pooch? Yeah.

Directors are laughing at me (LAUGHING!)(AT ME!) (DON’T THEY KNOW I HAVE DOUCHE CARDS I WILL SEND THEM FOR THEIR MOCKERY???) for looking so late in the game…

but but

here’s my (erroneous) thought process: teachers have the summers off, so they probably took their kids out of daycare, so their spots are wide open for the taking. Um, flawed, wishful thinking.

Call me (and yes, I have my hand in the “phone”/call me” shape) if you wanna come watch the Nugget & Jojo. You do, right? Good. Starting June 2! You can eat all the hummus and teddy grahams (not together. unless that’s your thing. I don’t judge.) you can fit in your tummy.

-image-Oh No You Did Nt

April 3, 2008 | bitterness

Dear Steve at a Certain Lending Organization Whose Name Includes “Tree” in It,

If you EVER call me again and SIGH like you did because my husband didn’t overnight that stupid sheet of paper back to you that WE ALREADY SIGNED AND RETURNED TO YOU LAST WEEK YOU ASSHAT and I know you rolled your eyes…I could FEEL IT…, I will hop on a plane out to where your pathetic, craptacular cubicle is and wipe one of Jojo’s diapers on your phone receiver.

Also: next time my husband asks that you correct the city name on over 100000000 documents that we need to sign before we get them to sign, Do. It. Because we will not cross out, correct and BOTH initial each and every of the 1345342 times that occurred ever. again. You. Stinking. Stupid. Butt. Plug.

Gooooood Day.
Stacy H. Squirrel

-image-Mastitis blows

March 31, 2008 | bitterness, Me, friends, Ollie

Yesterday, after an excrutiating latch-on in the backseat of our minivan and noticing that despite the 70 degree temp in our house, my teeth chattered relentlessly…not to mention the painful red boob, body aches, and fever, I realized I may have mastitis. Oh yes, I do.

Last night, Ollie didn’t sleep at. all. I didn’t sleep at. all. Do you know what the number one recommendation to relieve/cure mastitis is? Cut off your boobs? Right. Yes, but second? Sleep. Right…good one. Oh that was funny. I’m slapping my knee. Can ya hear it?

This morning, I could barely walk without stumbling or talk without interjecting something nonsensical. Mr. Squirrel “couldn’t” take the day off (bitter? yes.), so I begged a couple friends to take Jojo so I could focus on painfully feeding, then pumping then trying to subdue the SCREECHING infant formerly known as “he really only cries when he’s got gas.” Yeah, I should just shut my mouth.

My neighbor called right after my friend, Nic, offered to take Jojo, so my neighbor took Jojo to Nics, then picked him up from there after lunch and kept him at her house until after 5pm. Of course, Mr. Squirrel came home early (2pm…some redemption on his part), but he assumed Jojo was napping in his room, not running rampant at our neighbor’s house (see…I was FINALLY asleep).

Anyway, I have an antibiotic (1 down…39 to go– let’s hope it kicks in IMMEDIATELY), am drinking fluids like a maniac (who enjoys drinking lots of water and apple juice) and am now off to bed. If this mastitis turns into an abcess, I’m giving up the breastfeeding, cuz draining pus from my boob sounds like a good quitting point.

My milk supply is noticeably dwindling anyway, which I’m rather annoyed with, since despite the pain, I’ve been nursing on the affected boob and pumping afterwards to drain it completely. Left boob, you’re letting me down.

My friends, on the other hand, are stepping up and being nothing less than I expected — fantastically supportive and assuming the role of ‘family.’ I love you guys.

-image-Lost: My Header

March 28, 2008 | bitterness, blog business

What the F? If found, please return to Mrs. Squirrel.

-image-Where I Totally Judge Strangers

March 27, 2008 | bitterness

Ya know how you’re at the grocery store and two adult sisters and their mom, each with separate orders, stand ahead of you in line…taking their precious, sweet time? And two of the three attempt to use their debit cards, but they’re declined? And they act incredulous and say “oh just make it credit then” and then head over to the ATM to get cash back from the debit part after taking up like 10 minutes each going through the same scenario with the cashier? And all the while you’re Edy’s Slow Churned American Idol inspired ice cream is melting and the newborn you left at home is probably crying for the milk which is painfully filling up your boobs?

And then…you notice the first daughter heading back from the ATM and making straight for the Lotto tickets machine. And then your head explodes?

I know it’s not my business, my life, or my money. So my head shouldn’t explode… but it did.

-image-UGH.

February 28, 2008 | bitterness

Can anyone babysit Jojo for me during my baby shower this Saturday? Because my husband failed to remember, when discussing possible dates with the hostess, that he has to work all day on Saturday. So now I get to pay someone to watch Jojo during the shower, that is, if I can find someone in time. Our Monday afternoon babysitter is busy, as is our high school babysitter. I’m screwed. The last thing I want to do, quite honestly, is bring Jojo with me. I just wanted some girl time and to focus on this baby.

I’m so angry with my husband that I tore up some photos of him and slept downstairs last night.

What a nice place to bring a baby into.

-image-Mr. Squirrel is HOME!!!

February 23, 2008 | Mr. Squirrel, Baby Making, bitterness

Despite Mother Nature’s attempts to thwart my husband’s return to the land of impending Cletus birth, Mr. Squirrel now snores loudly in bed! Abrasive breathing never sounded soooo sweet.

Mr. Squirrel’s internal clock, devasted by the Shanghai/EST difference, arrived in Chicago yesterday around the time I left for work. He and two colleagues waited for 3 hours to find out their flight was cancelled owing to snow. They waited stand-by on two more flights (to surrounding cities) before his two colleagues got on a flight…and Mr. Squirrel was left behind!! Apparently they assured him seats were available, but then after his manager disappeared through the jetway, the gate agent shut the door and gave the “party’s over, dudes and dudettes” order.

I was all “WHY DIDN’T YOUR STUPID ASS COLLEAGUES LET YOU ON FIRST?????” but apparently, they tried negotiating with the gate agents (of asshattery), but there’s a particular order the airlines must follow for stand-by passengers (diagnosis: wtf? douchebags!). Sorry, colleagues…guess you’re not stupid asses. oops.

So Mr. Squirrel left the area to find another flight…only to find out from his manager later than they RE-OPENED THE GD doors and let a few more people on. WTF again? Who DOES THIS? United Airlines, that’s who.

Let me clue you in on something though… I believe the real reason my husband didn’t get called for stand-by is because of our very difficult to pronounce last name. I know this from experience with my maiden name (which is actually EASY to pronounce if you use your brain and don’t decompensate when a last name is longer than 4 letters). I was on stand-by once in my single years, seeing lots of other stand-by passengers (who I swore were on the list after me) get on a flight…so I finally charged up to the desk to see the deal. The gate agents exchanged embarrassed glances then told me they didn’t know how to pronounce my effing last name.

Oh, so don’t try! Don’t say “Stand-by passenger, Stacy V… — please report to the effing desk so we fucktards can get you on the flight.” Oh no. They were fine just letting me wallow in the no-fly zone. Thanks.

But Mr. Squirrel doesn’t think that’s what happens. Maybe because he’s a tad nicer than me. But I’m guessing our consonant-laden crazy last name is to blame, which is why I’ll now offer a contest to find the Squirrel family a New! Last! Name! Ok, maybe not. I know ya’ll would want “Squirrel” or “Federline” or “von Douche Detector” — all good names, naturally… but what a paperwork hassle.

Anyway, SO Mr. Squirrel finally made it on a flight to an airport 3.5 hours from casa de Jojo and arrived home at 4:16 am. Holy balls of shit did I not like the idea of him driving with jetlag across upstate NY on bad roads. But he’s home. Thundercats can now GOOOOOOO.

=====

Also: Cletus Watch 2008 updates~ some painful back contractions and menstrual-like crampage are all the rage here, as well as diarrhea! This last bit of TMI, apparently, is a sign of impending labor (hours! or weeks! — thanks for the clarification books and websites)…but it MUST be, because I’m currently downing THREE iron supplements a DAY, so I shouldn’t be having rogue diarrhea, if anything, I should be birthing bricks through the backdoor.

=====

One more thing! If you haven’t yet put in your guess for Cletus’ birth weight, visit this post & do so! One prize will be awarded. Whooopeeee!

AND WITH THAT A HAPPY SATURDAY TO YOU ALLLLLL!