Monday, November 30, 2009

Take a Back Seat Bitch

That's what the incision said to MDH's bladder today. CANCER FREE CANCER FREE CANCER FREE! You know how MDH likes to get cancer when one of the Joos is pregnant. Not this time mothers. WHAT WHAT. BJ remains preggers, GJ remains home with sick kids and MDH remains cancer free. After all...having cancer 3 times was going to be a little over board.

Five Weeks

Five weeks until C gets the fuck outta Dodge, and DO NOT COMMENT ON THIS POST if it is to inform this joo of any of the following fun facts:

(1) It only gets worse once they're out; or
(2) You should plan on being late.

This Joo does not care to learn either of those fun facts; and, unless you experienced DAILY debilitating migraines during your pregnancy; and your sister spent the last trimester spraying spray glue up your nose; AND your mother was addicted to the cancer; YOU DO NOT KNOW KNOW THIS JOO'S PAIN.

Other than that, this Joo is glowing.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Word

Clearly Guest Krunk's ho thinks GJ has tons of time throughout the day to blog (see comment section below). She seems to not have gotten the memo about A yelling "I'm psychotic" at preschool last week and then starting this strange love affair with Kayden or is it Cayden or is it Caeden or is it...right you get the point. GJ is busy. 'Tis the season. This is the time when GJ's craftiness gets a hair out of control. Lots of glitter being thrown around, the house smelling like spray glue, the kids passing out from the glue high, lots of painting, sewing of the Guest Krunk ho's stockings...really it's endless. So much to do. So little money to accomplish GJ's crafting dreams (Good Jew this is where you come in). B is about to walk. BJ is about to give birth (the horror) and MDH's bladder thinks it might want to have "the cancer." It's so trying to outdo the incision. Please bladder. You CANNOT even compete. GJ's hubby is supposedly done running for the "season," although GJ suspects this means "week." That's what GJ has got for you. That's it.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

A Good Run

GJ has recently had a very good run with random books picked up from the 'brary. The top 3 that you must go get today are:

1. The Piano Teacher - Janice Y.K. Lee (in large print)
2. The Littler Giant of Aberdeen County - Tiffany Baker
3. A Reliable Wife - Robert Goolrick

Also...A and her mom are TOTALLY into the SkippyJon Jones books by Judy Schachner. A little side memo. It is just stoopid to have a library card if you are going to acquire $35 late fees on a regular basis. Just go to the damn bookstore and buy the book in hardcover. And make sure it is a book about running that you have already read 15 times. GJ LOVES YOU EGL!

Fire Up

Yesterday while hanging out on the bathroom floor feeling nauseous, A brought in a Fed Ex envelope addressed to GJ's hubby. Of course GJ opened it because that is how we roll in this house. Strangely GJ's hubby never opens her mail. Huh. Anyway...inside in all of their glory were two Phish tickets. November 18th at Cobo in the D. What? Once again GJ did not get the memo that there was a concert coming up. It took a lot of restraint to not arrive at the hubby's office in flannel pajamas and a sideways pony tail with two kids who looked like white trash and rip him a new asshole, but GJ was able to keep it together. She merely picked up the phone and left him a message that announced she felt like shit and by the way THOSE FUCKING CONCERT TICKETS HAD BETTER NOT BE YOURS. Well guess what? No...keep guessing. They are the hubby's concert tickets. He TOTALLY didn't know he would get them. IT WAS A LOTTERY. He totally forgot about them. He went into the lottery like a MONTH ago. It was sooooooooo long ago that he forgot. After GJ's laser beam eyes had turned him into a pile of mush he stated he was sorry. The weekend of C's shower is here and B is sick and GJ is sick and BJ is sick and GJ thinks it's going to be super fun.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

You know what?

Your wife would probably want to do you more often if under your computer didn't look like this too. For shiz.

Fun Festive Halloween




Poor B had to be dressed up like a bee and couldn't even crawl around in the suit. Too bad. Every year of B's life she will be a bee and to make it even more fun and creative she will wear the same bee suit her whole life. Imagine how fun the pictures will be. A was a zebra. Now GJ knows that is shocking, but please pick your jaw up off the ground. B also enjoys coloring an enormous, ridiculous pumpkin that her grandpa grew for her (and that is a dick face).



Tuesday, November 3, 2009

When I'm Sixty-Four

days from my doo date.

At T-64 days and counting, Bad Joo is not handy mending a fuse, tending the garden, digging weeds, sleeping through the night, managing not to cry at the drop of a hat, or explode at the tadpole (whose visit ends to today). Bad Joo can no longer see her feet, although she should be able to, since they're so motherfucking big. BJ cannot go 24 hours without a migraine. BJ cannot slouch and breathe at the same time. BJ cannot be nice. In general, BJ cannot impress upon the Internettes enough how very, very poorly she is performing in this pregnancy.

But most importantly, Bad Joo cannot go ten seconds without getting the ABSOLUTE CRAP kicked out of her by C. And when this Joo says, "ABSOLUTE CRAP", she means, "Passersby stop her on the street and say with frightful looks of horror on their faces, 'FOR THE LOVE OF COD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, WOMAN, WHAT THE FUCE IS THAT ENORMOUS VIBRATING TUMOR PROTRUDING FROM YOUR RIBCAGE, AND WAS THAT YOUR LIVER THAT JUST SQUIRTED OUT OF YOUR SIDE?' before running away screaming."

When C is not busy pushing BJ's internal organs out of her pores, he enjoys hiccuping, doing the hustle, the Macarena, and acting like a silent, sweet baby anytime anyone touches her belly. Ah, what a joy this child will be. Even his father has taken to calling him "le petit con", which is French for, "SOMEBODY GET THIS FUCKER OUTTA HER AND GIVE ME BACK MY WIFE" or "the little asshole." This Joo forgets which.