Sassy Fun: I'm a rare-type of geekiness...

What Kind of Geek are You?
Name
DOB
Favourite Color
Your IQ is	frighteningly high
You are a	word nerd
Your strength is,	you actually have social skills
Your weakness is	caffine
You think normal people are	interesting
Normal people think that you are	deranged
This quiz by owlsamantha - Taken 222568 Times.

New - Kwiz.Biz Astrology and Horoscopes

Sassy Me: Jean-Shopping

That I am actually not interested in "normal" people. "Normal" equals "boring and fake" to me. So that last answer on my evaluation/quizzie thing below isn't at all true. NOPE.

So I went jeans shopping today because the knees on one of my three pairs decided to run in different directions and it is such a bitch to get my foot down a pant leg when it keeps getting hijacked by the knee hole. Plus I'm -5 on the Grace Scale so dressing in itself is always interesting. Ballet lessons starting in June should help that or I'll end up looking like that damn hippo in a tutu on the cartoons.

Oh..in regards to Hippos....back to the jean shopping. I used to be size 2. I was 2 and tiny. Then I was size 3 after having Skyler and Dylan. After Lucas I hovered at 5. After Cassidy I was 5 also....but now Cassidy is a year old and I'm a 9!!! From size 2 to size 9 in 10 years.

I have some sort of dysmorphic disorder opposite of that which anorexics suffer from. See I assume I'm small. I assume my ass hasn't spread. I see size 5 jeans and I worry (oh geez...how embarrasing) that they will be too big. So I take a pair of size 5 jeans to the dressing room and get one leg in. That's it. Because the other pant leg was collapsed and drawn taut. It had no plans of stretching out. And considering my -5 Grace Factor I wasn't even going to try. It was obvious....THESE JEANS WERE NOT WOMAN ENOUGH FOR MY HIPS AND ASS. So I deemed the size 5 jeans the "evil, wimpy and immature wastes of denim" jeans. That's alright because just in case, I brought a size 7 pair with me. I slip those puppies on and they glide right up my legs until the hips, which requires tugging and coercing. I finally get them past my hips and over my ass and the freakin' waist can't meet. Won't meet. REFUSES TO MOTHER-FUCKING MEET! It's not me, it's the jeans. They are not cooperative. They are the 6 year old in the grocery store whining about candy that they NEVER EVER get because YOU DON'T LOVE THEM. Size 7 jeans are deemed the "I'm Okay, You're A Brat" jeans and left with "evil, wimpy, immature wastes of denim" at the fitting room desk.

I sought out a pair of size 9 jeans that seemed entirely too big and didn't even try them on.

Now, perhaps, you think I'm whining. Perhaps you think size 9 isn't something to complain about. Well let me leave you with this closing thought...size 9 ass/hips IS really that bad with a dress-size 3 torso/chest. Thank you very much. Now you see my problem.

Sassy Fun: Fun, Fun!

How I find these fun-ass things online, I don't know. Well, in this case, I do...it is by surfing other's blogs. I'm a copycat. There you have it, I admitted it. Anyway, here's my newest steal, 'cept the answers are mine:

What Kind of Geek are You?
Name
DOB
Favourite Color
Your IQ is	frighteningly high
You are a	word nerd
Your strength is	you actually have social skills
Your weakness is	caffine
You think normal people are	interesting
Normal people think that you are	deranged
This quiz by owlsamantha - Taken 219335 Times.

New - Kwiz.Biz Astrology and Horoscopes

Writing: Write about going away???

Write about going away?! To where? What kind of journaling prompt is that? Just not an option for me. Four kids keeps me firmly planted in either my living room, the minivan or the grocery store. The truth is I'm tiiiii-rrreeedddd. I nap at the drop of a hat. Each moment is evaluated on the sleep spectrum, 1 being a "no way in hell can I sleep without having the apartment coming down around my ears" and a 10 being, "yup, it is midnight and most of the children are finally asleep."
I usually find my napping to happen at a 5 on the spectrum-- "if I sleep real light hubby might not notice and start spouting the inequalities of my napping when he works graveyard and only gets 6 1/2 hours sleep--OR--if I sleep real light I'll notice if Lucas is going to try and make toast again."
Oh, damn, the toast incident. Lucas, just a wee little boy with the capabilities of an ornery tiger cub, decided he was gonna make his mama toast. He told me he was going to do this so I had proper forewarning. He's seen us do this a thousand freakin' times so I figured he could handle it. But I still remained on high alert. He put two pieces of bread into one freakin' slot. Which required squishing. Which prompted burning. And smoke.
Now, even on high alert, I'm distracted because I'm not just on Lucas High Alert but also Medium Alerts for Cassidy, Dylan and Skyler. But the smoke got my attention.
All in all, it just required unplugging the toaster and performing a toast-ectomy to remove the burnt crisp bread. Yum. Boy, he was pissed though. Mama can't even leave his toast alone. I'm so hard to please.
The other thing, along with tiredness is that I have been bored on my ass lately. Bored...boooorrrreeeddd. I have no motivation to create and my writing is still tormenting me. It torments me and I choose not to visit it. I have been reading compulsively and even the authors are starting to bug me. Hmmm...possibly it is all information overload.
However, my neighbors continue to both intrigue and annoy me at the same time. Had a morbid dream last night that Downstairs Neighbor committed homicide and suicide. Nice. I felt so bad for the family yet actually heard myself say in the dream, "Wow, I don't have to worry about the noise anymore." I felt awful as soon as I said it...in my dream. Reminder to self to take meds in a.m. not p.m.
But the vah-tos (listen, I don't know the damn spelling of Vatos which will probably require an accent on a vowel that I can not conjure up without looking at a reference guide and none of that is going to happen while I'm nursing Cassidy at the keyboard) entertained me tonight. Head Shit Homeboy who is sketchy beyond all belief (he interrogated Mike the day he was setting up our phone lines when we moved in--for those who don't know, Mike works for the phone company. For said interrogation, Head Shit Homeboy leaves his property and comes to where Mike is playing with wires at phonebox and says to Mike, "What, are you tappin' my lines or somethin'?" Mike told him he was just setting up the lines for the new occupants.) Do I sense some paranoia?
Anyway, Head Shit Homeboy had his friends all over tonight and I went outside for a smoke. I had Mom-ma on the phone so I wouldn't be lonely. I look up and two cops cars come rolling down the street and pull in beside where his friends parked. Being that we are on a street that is shaped like a court, people sometimes pull in nose first rather than parallel park. So it kinda resembles a parking lot. Anyway, cops pulled in, pulled out their flashlights and even though the gate was visible, they were shining the light on the frontyard grass. I'm sure there was more but I got the shit back in my apartment, because truly the last thing I need is for HSH to see Suspicious White Girl (that would be me) on the PHONE WHEN COPS SUDDENLY SHOW UP. Not good.