Bangheadhere Weblog

I know, right? Where the Hell have I been??  Well, let me tell ya…

1) Went to Nashville and holy JEEZUS I nearly died. Here, in KC, I’m kind of looked on as something of an alcoholic and I can out drink most people. In Nashville I am a freaking A.M.A.T.E.U.R. I feel like Nashville chewed me up and SPIT me back into KC (I’ll upload pics next week *promise*).

Three words: Could Not Hang. I gave it everything I had and then some. I partied all day and night and into the morning. I danced on bars in a mini skirt, ate twelve-hour-old Taco Bell in a hotel bathroom, force-fed a rose to some random stranger on Broadway, fell down in the shower… seriously… just fell, and even woke up with my shorts on backward. I sucked face with so many people that Orbit’s gum could make a commercial about it… “Dirty mouth?”… Ugh.

2) I enrolled in nursing school! YAY ME!! It effing sucks… but YAY ME!!!

3) I’m getting divorced! YAY ME!!… err… right. Sorry, got a little carried away. No, it’s my choice so for me it is a good thing. Still a struggle. But a good thing. Oh, and can I just say how much FUN divorces are?! No… that’s a lie, they’re really not… But husbands are pricks! Now THAT is a statement I stand by!! Someday when this is all over I’ll have to tell you all the ridiculous stunts he’s pulled so far… like hacking my email account which I can no longer access and sending fully nude photos of me to my whole contact list… including my dad… AWESOME.  Gaaaah! Bang head right fucking ——->(      here      )<——-  right?

So, I’m looking for a job. I KNOW, RIGHT! That statement is hilar all by itself. In this job market, THIS is the time I chose to jump out on my own?! Yeah, I’m as fucking bright as a burnt out light bulb… I just woke up one morning and was like, “Ok, No job… check. No money… check. Piece of shit, unreliable 15 year old, gas guzzling truck… check. Two kids to support… check. Full-time college course line-up… check. Psychotic, delusional, estranged husband on a jealous murderous rampage… check, check, check. ALRIGHTY THEN!! LET’S DO IT!!!

In over my head…

Need immediate assistance…

Please send a jet-pack, a 30-pack and a super hero cape ASAP.

As previously stated, nothing fantastically shocking and/or hilarious has happened in my life to post about. However, my friends and fellow bloggers have been riding my ass about my lack of blog updates so I’ve decided to share one of my best stories of 2008. Now, no worries, just because this is an old story doesn’t mean it isn’t a good one! It’s actually one of my most requested, if I had a nickle for every time I told this story in a bar…. This story is near and dear to my heart and is filed under “Stupid shit Otis has done while intoxicated”. So lets begin.

After conceiving my youngest child WHILE on birth control pills it was determined by both my doctor and myself that I am in fact entirely too irresponsible for that particular method of contraception. Soooooo… for the last 6 years I have had the Paragard IUD.

For those unfamiliar with IUDs, I’ll give a small informative lesson because it’s important for you to understand exactly what I’m talking about so that you can fully appreciate this story. The IUD is a small, “T-shaped” contraceptive device, about 1-1/4 inches wide by 1-3/8 inches long, made of flexible plastic and wrapped in copper like so:

 The IUD must be inserted vaginally, then pushed through the cervix and positioned within the UTERUS by a qualified healthcare professional where it should remain for TEN YEARS, like so:

It is not important that you understand how it works, only what it is and where it is. Please recall that I said it was in the UTERUS. 

On with the story. This took place around June-July-ish, it was hot and when it’s hot I take the kids to the pool EVERY DAY. Well, I was NOT on my period but I’m completely PHOBIC about starting my period in the pool (Eudora is a small town after all and I would forever be “that girl” should that ever happen) so I always, always, ALWAYS wear a tampon to the pool. For the same reason listed above I am also phobic of having an “OOOOPS!”, visable tampon string dangling out of my bikini bottoms and down my inner thigh. So I use scissors to cut the tampon strings off FLUSH with my Bidniss. Yes, I said it, I wear a tampon every fucking day of summer that I later have to go on a fishing expedition for in order to retrieve it because it has no freaking strings. Psycho?? Absolutely, I’ve never denied it, suck it, you bleed in the damn pool.

Anywho… got off track. I took the kids to the pool, came home, removed the tampon then pulled up a chair in the neighbor’s driveway with my husband and my cooler where I preceeded to drink myself plum fucking ignorant. The hubs is a lightweight and couldn’t drink with me to save his ass (but then most people can’t) and he stumbled home to pass out about midnight. I continued to kill my brain cells for another two hours before making my own way home where Steve was passed out in our bed. Now Steve-O, my blessed lustful lover, has this habit of having sex in the middle of the night before his slumbering wife is fully awake so in my alcohol saturated thoughts it occured to me that I better take my tampon out so my drunken bonehead husband doesn’t accidentally shove said tampon up to my tonsils upon uninvited entry. Now, if you recall, I already took the damn thing out earlier that day. But I did NOT recall that. In fact, I doubt I could have recalled my name at that point. So off to bathroom I stumbled to remove the stringless tampon that did not fucking exist.

On the way to the bathroom I disrobed, planning to sleep nekkid, thinking,”won’t Steve be surprised when he wakes up!”. So there I clumsily sat, fully naked on my throne, disoriented and numb from my thouroughly poluted condition, legs spread wide and fishing for the imaginary tampon. As you might have guessed, I can’t find it. I don’t know if I thought that I couldn’t find it because I was so drunk or if I thought perhaps my freaking snatch had just eaten it, I just don’t know… but regardless I continued to search ever deeper and more thouroughly…. then I felt something…. STRINGS!!!

I gave a tug and OUCH! I think “Damn, that kinda HURTS!”. Now, if you have ever worn a tampon while NOT on your period, or worn one on a super light day, or even had to remove one while it was still partially dry then you  know that it hurts/grabs/pulls a little. So because I indeed was not on my period I thought this had to be the case, that it was only hurting and so hard to pull out because it must still be a little dry.

So I pull a little harder and suddenly the room starts spinning out of control and when it stops I’m drenched in a cold sweat and breathing hard. I think, “Holy SHIT, that sonofabitch is REALLY in there!! Better pull harder before I pass out.”

And that’s what the dumb drunk bitch said…

And that’s what the dumb drunk bitch did.

I beared down… got the best grip I could… took a deep breath… and “Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…… POP!!!!   And the room went black.

Blink. Blink. Blink…. Nothin’, still black. I’m dizzy and weak as a newborn and I can’t fucking see. From my forehead down I feel consciousness seaping out of me. Blink. Blink. Blink…. Finally!! Little oily rainbows are swimming in front of my eyes. Blink. Blink. Blink…. And I can see again. I’m freezing and I’m sweating so bad that I can feel the toilet seat getting slippery under my bare ass. A few more seconds go by and I finally find the strength to lift my thousand pound arm so I can triumphantly gaze upon the wretched, troublesome tampon that I still held in my hand. Still drunk, dazed and confused… still nauseous, dizzy, sweating and weak… I victoriously hold up my prize.

“TA-DAAAH!!”

What??? What is this I see??? This is not a tampon…

I’m so confused, this is vaguely familiar but I just can’t wrap my head around it…. WHAT IS THIS THING…? Am I hallucinating???

So there I sat, fully naked on my throne, clinging to consciousness by a thread, staring at this mysterious THING that I had ripped out of myself, half expecting it to turn into a fucking butterfly and fly away when… BAM!!!!!   It hits me. The realization that I had just torn my IUD from my uterus had the same effect on me that I would guess smelling salts might. So I did what anyone else in a similar situation might do…

I FUCKING PANICKED!!!

I **attempted** to leap off the toilet and race into the bedroom where my beloved husband, my protector, the fixer of all my fuck-ups was still snoozing away completely unaware of his wife’s most recent drunken shinanigans. However… LEAP and RACE were, in fact, NOT what I did because though the mind is now fully alert, the body nearly lost consciousness only moments before and does not yet have leaping and racing abilities. So I kind of fell/stumbled/ran/rolled/crawled naked and bleeding to my husband. And because he is always so supportive and compassionate in these situations he replied “This may go down in the record books as your most expensive drunk night ever.”….

Jeee, thanks alot babe.

I know, I know… I abondoned my blog. But now the Holidays are OVER, thank freaking Jesus, and we can return to our regularly scheduled blogging. Sooooo……

UPDATE: We had family portraits done by the talented Moth from kentablog (wish I knew how to link it) in November and they turned out SUPERB. See us:

We made it through Christmas and I survived the New Year (barely) and can I just say a big ol’ “SO FUCKING LONG to 2008!”? Crap, what an eventful year to say the least! I, for one, am glad to see it go and though I’m a year older, I welcome 2009 with BIG hopes. It’s the year of the boobs people!! This I will explain at a later date. As for now, please enjoy this photo of Babycakes and I on New Year’s Eve (notice there are no pics of me and my sister/bff because she ditched me to hang out with her new boyfriend and we spent our first New Year EVER apart. Me? Bitter?? Maybe just a little.).

Also notice my glassy eyed stare along with the clock in the background that reads 10:30… This may *possibly* be the reason I filled up my party hat with my dinner around 12:22. Who can really say?? On a side note: Liquid Cocaine is in fact a SHOT, not a drink and should be consumed as such. DO NOT have the bartender make yours in a 16 ounce cup… then have her refill it 3 more times… it’s just not a good idea.

Not my favorite Holiday AT ALL but this one was pretty good. Every year we take the boys to the pumpkin patch the weekend before Halloween, stop at Wally World for costumes, pumpkin carving kits and trick-or-treat candy, go home and carve pumpkins and roast the seeds. It’s an EXHAUSTING day but we have so much fun it’s definitely worth it.

And the weather has been SO nice!!!

Here are a few pics.

Milk comes from where?

Daddy trying to teach Logan to rope.

Corn maze!

On the way to the pumpkin patch.

Coming back from the pumpkin patch 4 seconds later… I’m not kidding. They both jumped off, ran and picked a pumpkin so fast we still had to wait for people to exit the hay trailer before we could get BACK ON. They definitely get their ability to make quick decisions from Steve because anyone who knows me, knows that I will stress out for HOURS trying to decide what to have for freaking dinner…

I have called Logan “Joe Cool” since he was a toddler. It’s just in his personality.

They are getting SOOOO big!

:::::::: Insert huge sigh here because what the Hell else can ya do? :::::::::

UGH. Seriously, seriously. Just ugh.

For those of you that have kids or have ever been around kids… have you ever heard something just POP out of a kid’s mouth that just seems to bring all existing things and noises to a screeching halt? You know, there’s the deafening silence where no one even takes a breath, crickets start chirping and everyone is just staring with their heads cocked to one side as if tilting it enough will somehow change what they just heard?

UGH!

Kids just say the stupidest damn things! Like when you’re sitting at a table in a cramped diner and a very large woman is struggling to walk between your table and the one beside it while making every attempt to maintain some dignity. And THAT’S when your 3 year old niece decides to LOUDLY announce “Maaaaan Aunt Trish! Her butt is bigger than my WHOOOOLE BODY!!!”. And EVERYONE just freezes and silently waits while you are simultaneously trying to think of how to react and also praying to God that you won’t physically harm the child once you are capable of moving again.

Well, I could probably tell about a jillion of these stories from the past but the reason this post came about is because just such a thing happened to me last night. Now, before I begin let me first tell you two things.

First, my five year old, Cole, is a sickly little thing. You’d never know it to look at him because he’s very similar in behavior to a wrecking ball or a hand grenade. But he was a preemie (by 6 weeks) and I swear every single day is a battle to keep that kid healthy and feeling well. You can always tell when Cole is starting to get sick because he gets very tired and lethargic. But he also becomes very needy and IRRATIONAL. Yes, I did type that right and I am aware of it’s meaning.

I know this story is starting to drag on but bear with me people.

Second, one of my good friends, April, has been around almost constantly since Cole was an infant. And I mean CONSTANTLY. She even comes to my family’s Holiday dinners with her own kids. Her kids have often babysat my kids. April is also black.

Well. Yesterday I notice Cole showing signs of not feeling well. Last night, April and her daughter came over and entered without knocking as they always do. By the time they were fully inside, Cole had scurried to the far corner of the living room and was actually HIDING behind the corner of the sofa. I tried to get him to come out and he started crying!!! I said “What’s the matter baby, tell mommy what’s wrong.”.

AND HE SAYS… God, I can’t even believe this still…

“I just really don’t like brown people”.

Chirp, chirp.

Chirp, chirp.

OMG!! What the Hell do you even say to that? Of course, both April and her daughter were as shocked as I was and there was the customary looooooooong awkward silence. Then I had the “skin is just skin” talk with him but why in the world, after being around black people his whole life, would a kid say something like that?

Ohhhh the joys of parenthood….

Just so you can fully appreciate this story I would first like to make it known that I live in a subdivision. No Boondocks, no barns, no fields, no ponds. In a subdivision! Surrounded by manicured lawns, paved streets and driveways. So someone please tell me where the fudge THIS spawn of Satan came from.:

HOLY MUTHER PHUCKING GAAAK!!!

And yes, that is a Copperhead. I am afraid of snakes. No… I am PETRIFIED of snakes. So, I’m sitting in the office (blogging or RB-ing I’m sure) and Steve is outside standing almost directly under the office window. You should also know that Steve is terrified of snakes as well but refuses to admit to it. Suddenly, Steve starts yelling my name and shouting random things. I’d like to tell you what he said but I wasn’t really listening. So I do what every good wife does… completely ignore him. 30 seconds later more yelling and shouting and again all I made out was my name so agian I just pretended like I didn’t hear him.

Now, I am not a COMPLETELY heartless bitch people. Let me explain. The people in this house think that my ass has springs on it and I am just supposed to bounce around at their beck and call or any other random whim they might have. They don’t care if I’m busy making dinner, watching tv, taking a shower or even sitting on the toilet. They think they can just scream out, “MOOOOOOOOOM!!!!” or TRIIIIIIIIIIISH!!!!” and I am just suppose to LEAP into action, DROP whatever I’m doing and RUN to see what they need. And usually it’s something so STUPID like, “have you seen my belt?” or “I need a drink!”. Grrrrrrrrr…. “well I am so glad I had to get out of the shower to find your effing BELT Steve”. So lately I’ve been enforcing this new rule that says unless you are INJURED you must come to where I AM. Not scream at me from the yard, garage or basement for ME to have to run to YOU.

Sorry to get off on that tangent but I wanted to explain to you why my husband was repeated yelling for me and I continued to ignore him. Anyway, back on track now, the third time he yelled at me I still didn’t hear a word that he actually said except my name but I WAS LIVID. So I FLY out of the office, open the front door, step out onto the porch, slam the door behind me and immediately start screaming at him.

Theeeeeeeeeeen I realize he’s standing about 2 1/2 feet from me holding a gun. And he has no color in his face. I say, “what the Hell are you doing?” and he says the words that completely stop my heart from beating….  “I’m tryingto kill this SNAKE”. I would have been less effected had he turned the gun on me and pulled the trigger people. I somehow managed to leap the distance of 50 feet from the porch to the street in a single bound. Not really, but I don’t have any recollection of actually getting from one place to the other but I do know I did it FAST FAST FAST. Once I was safely in the street I felt courageous enough to scream profanities at him and call him names. Went a little something like this:

“A SNAAAAKE?!! YOU FUKCING MORON, SONOFABIITCH, BASTARD!! YOU KNOW I’M SCARED OF SNAKES!! WHY IN CHRIST JESUS’ PHUCKING NAME DID YOU CALL ME OUT HERE??!! WHAT THE FUKK DID YOU THINK I WAS GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO? CATCH IT??! GIVE IT A FUKKING KISS??! YOU PHUKCING PILE OF DOUCHE NOZZLES!!!”

It took about 3 minutes for him to kill it and about an hour before I took one step closer back toward the house. Turned out to be a 30″ copperhead. Fun times… :::::::: sigh :::::::::

So I guess I’ve been tagged by my good ol’ buddy ol’ pal Rockstar at http://tastyblogsoup.blogspot.com/ , which I’ve been informed is like a chain thingy. This blogging business is like learning a new language. Here’s the scoop peeps:

5 Joys:

1. Cozy dinners with the hubs and our toe-headed monkeys.

2. Wild nights with my Internet posse followed up with hangover mornings when my Super Sis makes me biscuits and gravy.

3. Frying my skin to a beautiful shade of Charred Bronze Goddess in the sun by the pool.

4. The exciting world of boxed liquors.

5. Days that are all about me. When I get to sleep in, drink coffee someone else has made, do some shoe shopping, get a mani and pedi then cozy up in front of the fireplace with a book and a box of wine. Mind you, this has never happened even once but I just know if it ever does I will enjoy it.

5 Fears:

1. Snakes. Holy HELL do I have the story for you guys about this! I just haven’t had time to post about it yet. I can go on for days on this topic but in short, they can move… without legs. That is obviously evil and only possible with the help of Satan.

2. Aging.

3. Muffin Tops.

4. Camel Toes

5. Halitosis

5 Obsessions:

1. Food. I have a severe phobia of not having enough food so I grocery shop in a near panic. I obsessively hoard food to the point that my kitchen will not contain it and Steve had to turn our living room coat closet into another pantry for food storage. Even with the extra space, my counter tops are still occasionally stacked with canned goods because there is no space to put it. Every meal I prepare AT LEAST 10x more food than we can ever possibly eat. And though I’ve tried SOOOO hard to cut back I just can’t seem to do it without causing myself to have an anxiety attack. My friends have actually given my disorder a label, OFA (Otis Food Anxiety). Sweet huh? ;-D

2. RB-ing.

3. Washing my bedding. I’ve actually gotten out of bed and slept on the couch because I couldn’t sleep in my dirty sheets. It had only been about 5 days since I last washed them and I thought that was a really long time to go between washing but other people have since called me psychotic for feeling that way.

4. Folding towels. I like to fold them in a particular way where no tags or seams show. If they get messed up in the linen closet I get very stressed out about it and have to take them all out and refold them.

5. Cosmetics.

5 Surprising Facts:

I should protest this and refuse to answer but I’ve had a few beers and I’m in the mood to let it all hang out.

1. I’ve been framed twice by a crazy ex. Once for assault and once for felony burglary. In both cases I was able to prove that he is CRAZY and was cleared of all charges. However, I did mistakenly miss a court date in the burglary case resulting in a warrant for my arrest and 19 hours in Jackson County jail with a $20,000 bond.

2. During my “time” in Jackson County Jail I used my one phone call to call my boyfriend of 10 months to tell him I was falling in love with him. In truth, I just wanted him to come bond me out. Luckily for me he did and I eventually fell in love with him for real. That boyfriend is now my husband.

3. I did such an amazingly fantastic job planning my wedding (that Steve protested to every detail to) that we were featured in the Kansas City Spring 2008 edition of the Knot Magazine.

4. I can skin a raccoon. I wish I was kidding people but I am not.

5. I was on Judge Judy. Yep. For real, for real. I could tell you but it would be more fun for you to just watch it here:

And then here

This is just scraping the surface people. Really, really. Hence the blog title: Bang Head Here.

Only moments ago I was standing at my kitchen sink and  I feast my eyes upon five shirtless males jogging by.

WHOOA!!

Just as I begin to salivate I spy another small group trailing behind and I think, “what in the Hell inspired these guys to GTG for a run in the rain?”. Then I thought, “who really cares but I’m sure glad they did!”.

Theeeeeeeen I spot the high school football coach. And I know who he is because he coach’s my kids 2 week summer football camp every year.

Dooh!! High school boys??! Are you freaking kidding me??! I feel like a pedophile…

But in my defense when the fekk did high school boys start having facial hair and cut-ass muscles? Dammit. I need to go pray or something.

BECAUSE I NEED SOME FREAKING ADDERALL!!

That is all.

So it does NOT taste good. But honestly, as with all liquor, after the first glass who the Hell really cares what it tastes like. And I’m here to tell you that putting a pour spout on anything alcoholic around this house is a catastrophically bad idea. Here’s why:

If you really need me to explain this to you… just leave my blog now.

Also it’s in a freaking box so there’s really no reason for me to put on airs. I didn’t feel the need to chill it, let it breath or even drink it out of a wine glass. I just grabbed one of the cups I stole from Arizona’s and put the damn box on the couch right beside me like a buddy. Then we watched the VP debate together and now I have a hangover straight out of the fiery depths of Hell. All in all it was a good night.

I guess what I’m really wondering is WHY THE FEKK doesn’t ALL liquor come with a pour spout?