Uno

Happy first birthday to this Joo's one and only. I'm so overwhelmed by the enormity of how much I love you, I have nothing further to say.

The Money Pit

So, we did it. We finally closed on the Little Bungalow That Could(nt), and sold our current house. Smooth sailing from now on, right?

LE WRONG.

We apparently transformed into a very continental Tom Hanks and a darker haired Shelly Long, for we today learned that the house is in fact CRUMBLING. Ish. It seems that the bowed sidewalls that everyone (and by everyone, I of course mean the FHA Appraiser, Consultant, and Contractors) assured us were going nowhere are in fact about ready to break due to the improperly supported weight of the roof. And one of the neighbors tried to tell me this early on in the process, but this Joo ignored him, choosing instead to believe a bunch of licensed professionals.

And I would've blindly gone on their bad advice, had a certain city inspector (whom I regretfully referred to as an incompetent, alarmist ass - sorry, Boris, or Yuri, or whatever the fuck your name is) halted work on the project, citing irreconcilable differences with the roof system.

So now we wait. We wait while an adorable little structural engineer calculates forces and tolerances and tells us what we need to do to stabilize the structure and properly support it. Until that time, we cannot even begin to reroof the little bungie. *le sigh*

LET THIS BE A LESSON TO ALL OF YOU. Or not. We're still delighted to be rehabilitating our dream house.

It's really going to happen. I think.

So, for those of you keeping score at home, we have not yet closed on the little house that could. We have, in the meantime, sold our present house, and signed reams and reams and reams of paperwork. Alas, no closing yet.

This is still because we're getting a federally subsidized rehab loan for the little house that could. And, as a result, the lender is being pickier than a migrant worker in a peach orchard. FOR EXAMPLE, as we near our closing deadline, despite the fact that Bad Joo is paid THE SAME AMOUNT EVERY PAY PERIOD, the lender is requiring proof of deposit and check stubs for each salary deposit. Unimpressed? How 'bout 'dis one: we have the money for our down payment in one account (call it Account X), but we'll be paying the down payment out of Account Y. Therefore, in FHA Lender Land, we must show not only the long standing funds in account X, but also the balance in account Y, AND THE TRANSFER OF FUNDS FROM X TO Y LEST WE SECRETLY USE DRUG MONEY INSTEAD.

Fuck me.

We're supposed to close by the 15th.

Bad Dog Momma

I keep trying to come up with a fitting eulogy for my dearly departed Grace. However, my grief is still so thick, even three months later, the only thing I can come up with at this point is a bad hair ballad.

http://youtu.be/I-h4A7bF8wQ

Sorry, Grace Anne. You were a good girl. You deserve far, far better. If you knew her, comment here please. Help me out.

Shopping

Bad Joo snorts period reproduction fixtures like junkies blow blue. Some of her favorites can be found at such fine retailers as http://www.rejuvenation.com/ and http://www.schoolhouseelectric.com/.

Bad Joo particularly loves the skyscraper-esque majesty of Rejuvenation's above-pictured Echo fixture: http://www.rejuvenation.com/fixshowW372/templates/selection.phtml .

FHABULOUS

This Joo has just submitted what she hopes is a complete loan application to the mortgage company for the Little House. For those of you keeping track at home, from this point forward, it's supposed to take thirty days to close the puppy. Please cross your fingers, toes, nooks, and crannies for us.

More Little House

In the continuing saga of Bungalow Bill, we offer another before photo. This Joo cannot wait to restore this puppy.

The Little House That Couldn't, Apparently

So, this Joo is still in the process of purchasing the Little House That Could and is presently trying to close an FHA 203K Rehab Loan, or as the Pro's like to call it, an "Are You Fecking Kidding Me?" loan. For those of you not in the know, an FHA 203K Rehab Loan is a loan designed to allow home purchasers to borrow up to 110% of the value of a home at the time of purchase in order to make approved repairs and improvements to a home that will be their primary residence. Funds are disbursed directly to the contractors or homeowners making the repairs by the bank at various points throughout the rehab process.

Real Estate Agents and Mortgage Brokers fear the AYFKM loans, for they require a mountain of paperwork and certification taller and more evil than Mount Doom, and (this Joo is pretty sure) are underwritten only by Sauron. This Joo fears nothing. And so she perseveres. And it will happen, my pretties. This Joo and that dirty foreigner husband of hers will raise their child in the Little House That Could. ETA for our closing is 30 days.

10 months

It's official. Ten months ago, little M popped outta this Joo like greased lightning. He now talks "ba ba, pa pa, da da, ga ga (but no mama)", crawls, stands, does stairs, claps, growls, does "so big", chops, and juliennes. And despite the sleepless nights and the bad teeth, this Joo couldn't be happier.

The Little House That Could

Some people are addicted to booze. Others habitually tie off their arms with JCrew tie tourniquets and inject themselves with what the kids call "horse." Still others gamble. Bad Joo has a problem with old houses.

Bad Joo has dreamed since Bad Joo was a little Bad Joo of an adorable, historic bungalow. Since attaining adulthood, this dream has fleshed out, and Bad Joo compulsively shops her city streets for said bungalow. Until now.

Wait. Back up. Bad Joo has a few favorites, namely, a Japanese inspired bungalow on a certain park, a cottagey bungalow in a certain preppy city-lette; and Bad Joo's new bungalow. That's right. The one pictured in the previous post.

You see, sixteen years ago, when Bad Joo moved to Grand Bibleville, Bad Joo spotted this little number, and Bad Joo said, "I will have that house." And now she will.

Call it fate. Call it kismet. Claim that Jesus arranged it all 'twixt deciding who'd get into heaven (there are only 144,000 spots). Call it what you will, but a short time ago, Bad Joo and Mr. Bad Joo were driving aboot, and Bad Joo asked him to drive by this little number to see how she was doing.

And there was a motherfucking for sale sign in the window. Not a realtor sign. Not a fancy, shiny sign with a tube for flyers and bells and whistles. No. A little 8x10 Ace Hardware For Sale By Owner sign.

So Joo called. And found it was for sale for $ridiculouslylow,lowprice.00 . Because all of these sixteen years, the house was inhabited by a little ol' lady, who recently went to be with her Jesus. And the house is in a shambles. In ruins. And now it is Bad Joo's sworn duty to fix her back up.

Because, you see, she is the little house that could.



TO BE CORN-TINUED.

Dear M Redux

Dear M:

You are adorable and wonderful. You smile all the time. You regale us all with "ba ba" and "papa." You never cry. You never sleep either, but that's for another post. In short, you are the world's most perfect baby.

But I really could've done without the full scale decimation of my teeth. Nothing says "white trash" like a mouth full of cavities and a mother effin' crown. How come no one ever told me that pregnancy and nursing would devastate my mouth?

Love,

Mama Joo

Foque You Very Much

It has been brought to these Joos' attention that they have not been blogging with satisfactory frequency. Or at least, the frequency with which these Joos have been blogging is not pleasing to at least one of their many, many fans.

Fine.

Doods. These Joos have in the last two months: (1) pushed a baby out the hoo; (2) suffered through night after night of M's cock teething (defined as carrying out the motions of teething without actually ever producing a tooth, a la cock tease); (3) PURCHASED THE ABOVE ADORABLE, YET DECAYING, BUNGALOW IN A LOCAL HISTORIC DISTRICT WTF?; and somehow managed to organize three weekends of Joos, complete with Joo travel to Joo and ensuing mayhem with the Joo children.

This may not sound like a lot to some of you, but it is a lot for these Joos. Still, we shall endeavor to do better. In our next episode: the before pictures of Bad Joo's new bungalow, and the story of the little house that could.

Wordless Wednesday

You know how bloggers do that whole Wordless Wednesday thing? Well this is like a wordless wednesday, except it's Wordless September. Avec a smattering of words. SUCK IT!

20

Inches. The circumference of M's waist. For real. We measured. He is a behemoth in a ladies' diaper.

In other news, Little Baby Ju is faring well, and Good Joo is too, except that she just purchased That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Jesus = A Mountie

Apparently. Please enjoy this musical interlude whilst the Joos attend to Little Ju and other bags of tricks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QhV4-1nZs_A

Five

Happy anniversary to my mail order husband, best friend, and fellow disdainer of so, so many. Je t'aime.

BAYBEEEEEEEEE!

Baby Ju was born today at 4:25. 7 pounds, 8 ounces. 20.5 inches long. Congratulations to Good Joo and her family!

I'm so excited. And I just can't hide it.

Good Joo's about to lose control, and I think she likes it.

Good Joo is being admitted tonight to begin the process of evicting that bad ass baby. ENFUCKINGFIN.

Sisters are for making us bawl our eyes out.

I love you, Joo.

Grace Anne May 1, 1999 - August 16, 2010

When the rottenweiler sized hole in this Joo's heart closes up a smidge, she'll write more, but in the meantime, these Joos leave you with this:

A: Why are you crying?

GJ: Because Grace Anne went to heaven.

A: Already?

GJ: Yes.

A: But what is Bill doing?

GJ: Sitting on the couch, I guess.

Of All the Stupid Shit

I get the fall J. Crew catalog in the mail today. You know when I am about to birth and be a big, flubbery, gross, milk factory, dead hoo, sleepless, hot mess. How depressing. I just laid in bed with it (occasionally licking it) wondering how long it would take me to lose 500lbs of baby and 400lbs of fluid. A week?


I get a bill in the mail from one of my 10,000 renal ultrasounds. Ultrasound $218. Insurance coverage $3. My total $215. Awesome. Thanks. And since when is an ultrasound to determine if you are indeed going to die of kidney failure experimental? Shut up.


A going to vacation bible school. I know. I know. It was an act of desperation. And not in finding the Lord. In trying to let A have some semblance of fun this summer away from her mom who is a grouchy, psycho, fat pig. Poor A. On Tuesday I walked in to pick her up only to be greeted by the preacher yelling "WHO'S BEEN FOUND?" In panic mode I tried to locate A who was very busy screaming "ME ME ME ME ME" and dancing. Holy shit. I almost went into labor.

The fact that there is currently a kitten residing in our house. I needed one more thing to do.

The phone call I received from hubby announcing his intentions to travel to NYC the week I am to be induced. Really? I think that's an awesome plan.

My bladder is infected again. Mostly because my kidney stones are rotting and molding and curdling and whatever else kidney stones that won't leave your body do. I'm on antibiotics now until birth. If you need me I will be in bed itching my yeasty hoo with an SOS pad. And I could give two shits if that's too much info. Don't you want to come visit?

Joo Song

DO NOT steal the above design, as faboo as it is, for I will hunt you down and kill you with a machete. It is my own original work in which I reserve all rights. It is an ode to my Good Joo who, despite being grossly pregnant, having the kidney stones, the G.D., the G.H., the Huge.Ass.Baby.Up.In.There, and the two children on the outside, just called to offer to DRIVE TO BIBLE BELTVILLE to care for Bad Joo's beloved dying rottenweiler. This makes my heart swell with love, even though it is in a shit situation, hence the profoundly symbolic imagery.

I'm getting a job with Hallmark next week. I'll be designing their new "Just Because" line. You can all be fucking jealous.

Now With 33% More Gadgets

If M could tear himself away from his latest book club selection, he'd love to tell you that you can now share the wit and wisdom that these Joos impart via Facebook and the like. Unfortunately, he can't, so you don't know about it. Put that it your pipe and smoke it.

P.S. The tree frog is 7 months old today. How did that happen?

This Might Be Cuter Than M

Bad Joo got a swimmering suit for her thirty thirteenth birthday. And it might be cuter than a picture of M riding a kitten on a Hallmark® card held by midget wearing fuschia knickers. For real. Even on this post partum body.

See: Lands End Canvas for details.

And they're on heavy sale. Like cheaper than Wal-Mart sale.

Love,

Bad Joo

P.S. Good Joo is still prego, still suffering, still in the USSR (or Indiana).

P.P.S. The man with the rainbow umbrella obscuring his head in the background is this Joo's part time lover.

Indiana is a Third World Country

which is why despite the G.D., gestational hypertension, kidney stones, an ongoing bladder infection, contractions, and a dilating and effacing cervix AT 32 MOTHERFUCKING WEEKS, Good Joo is still home caring for A and B and NOT, I repeat, NOT in the hospital. The infant mortality rate in third world countries is very high. Similarly, in Indiana, women still die in childbirth all the time. At 32 weeks.

For this reason, The Incision has headed down to the Fart to regulate some medical action. Look out, Fart. The Joos are pissed.




* photo courtesy of Stockvault.net

Unacceptable

Unacceptable that M has fluffier tits than his mama.
Unacceptable that M also has tree frog toes.
More unacceptable that Bad Joo's beloved rottenweiler is crippled beyond recognition.
MOST unacceptable that Good Joo's kidneys are on strike (apparently with the rottweiler's kidneys. Let's hope they went somewhere nice).

Acceptable that baby good joo is weathering the kidney tsunami okay.

This has been a red hot summer of winning, and it's only July.

Call PETA

Good Joo is switching from the third person as well. "Call PETA" was the subject on my latest email from Bad Joo. Certainly it has something to do with the abuse of the albino whale beached in a swimming pool, but I am not certain. I have given up on trying to be somewhat attractive at the neighborhood pool and have donned a bikini for the first time in a long time. I won't lie. People stare. I don't care. My stomach was so white and startling that something had to be done. It's not a good look what with the belly button scar from surgery and that damn college belly button ring, but c'est la vie. The less clothing on my body the better. I'm at the point where everything feels tight and being naked is the best bet except for the whole dealing with the husband thing. At least he thinks I'm hot. In other news A has gone from a darling 5 year old to a complete and utter asstastic 16 year old. The transformation has been incredible and traumatizing. B remains a dick and has taken to throwing things, pulling A's hair out, kicking A and only eating broccoli salad with an entire bottle of Ranch on it. I had a 3 day hospital stay for kidney stones, which is worthy of its own post. I have been told by my nutritionist to gain ONLY 1/2 lb. more this pregnancy. Obviously this caused me to laugh hysterically, spraying her with a large mouthful of Coke and Poptart crumbs. One of her many suggestions was to put cottage cheese on bread, sprinkle it with cinnamon and Splenda and then put it in the toaster oven. IT'S LIKE A DANISH! Except it's not and that is disgusting and no one owns toaster ovens anymore. Keep in mind she has a bouffant and goes to Jazzercize.

Anxiety

Good Joo has spent much of the last month being very anxious about numerous things. This isn't really anything new, but it seems to have hit GJ hard recently. Perhaps it's A getting beaten up by neighborhood kids, or A getting into the one supposedly good public school after GJ and hubby just forked over $6000 for private school. Maybe it's the drama about where to put the new baby (a girl by the by), or how plans NEVER seem to work out. Perhaps it's GJ's hubby randomly questioning "so are we gonna do it" during a serious conversation about that fact that GJ ate an ENTIRE box of Lucky Charms in 24 hours. Oh and 5 oatmeal cream pies. And a Coke. Maybe it's the fact that GJ HATES her newly reupholstered Pottery Barn chair. Hates it. Or perhaps it's the fact that GJ's basement looks like something out of Haiti. The promise that the new baby is going to ruin our current EVERYONE is sleeping through the night in their own room excitement. That GJ will have two kids in diapers. So there.

INVINCIBLE or Something Like It

Bad Joo is, as the Italians say, fragile. So fragile, that motherhood is causing her weenie little wrists to bow oot like a kid with a bad case of rickets, if rickets affected only the left wrist; and passers-by regularly offer to accompany her home to the adult foster center.

Because of this pathetic weakness, Bad Joo suffered broken wrists and all manner of other joint injuries in her youth, much to the chagrin of Good Joo. You see, Good Joo always wanted a broken arm. And a retainer. Sure, the retainer was easy enough. Watermelon Jolly Rancher? Check. Paper clip? Check. One instant retainer. The broken arm, however, was a whole other animal. And it was a much coveted animal.

Perhaps it was the golden draw of the arm sling, but for years Good Joo tried to break her arm by slamming it in car doors, bedroom doors, refrigerator doors, hitting it with a hammer, and asking people and heavy draft animals to jump upon it. This Joo is not making this shit up, except maybe the part aboot the beasts of burden. And the amazing thing is that IT NEVER WORKED. She never broke a mother fuceing thing.

And so, this Joo reminds that Joo that despite the fact that this pregnancy is wearing her like a bad suit, she will get through it. She's strong like that. INVINCIBLE EVEN. Or something like it.

Good God

Can you stand it? Now if only you could smell it. And yes...that is chocolate all over her face. When your throat looks like that you get to eat whatever you want. Gross.

Love and Strength to Good Joo

In the house now shy of at least one pair of T&A, Good Joo is laboring under the weight of a growing C/D, whilst hoisting B aboot and caring for a recovering A. Since the vomiting of scabs by a five year old would in and of itself be cause for extra good thoughts to be sent GJ's way, Bad Joo is doubly proud of Good Joo as she is enduring all of this sans husband. Mr. Good Joo has chosen this time to go on a brotherly adventure that will likely involve beer and the photography thereof. Those of you friendly with him on Facebook know of what I speak.

So, Good Joo, this Joo sends you much love and reminds you that you are a fabulous mother doing a fabulous job.

This Sucks Balls

Bad Joo is back at work. And Bad Joo hates this. M, however, is perfectly content. M is perfectly content, because M is being sat upon by his beloved Gramma (The Incision) and his dear Aunt-Kelly-Nanny. And, this Joo's wonderful employer is allowing her to work only from noon until 6, with the rest of her work time being completed in flex time. In short, this Joo is VERY LUCKY.

Still, those six hours away from M are the most excruciating hours of this Joo's life. This Joo has even inquired after the possibility of a neurological epidural in order to lessen the pain of separation. To date, the only thing that has helped Bad Joo ease into this transition is the knowledge that the sticky minutes she spends furtively pumping breast milk in the corner of the conference room like some kind of bad boob junkie will result in a healthier baby M. And those fifteen sticky minutes (why didn't anyone tell this Joo that breastmilk was hot-sticky-sweet-from-its-head-to-its-feet-yeah) allow Bad Joo to think about baby M and at least pretend she's connecting with him. La SNEEF.

Bad Joo doesn't know how the rest of you working moms do it. Do tell! What are your tricks?

Cinq

Oh A. You are 5 now and mostly adorable when you are not pouting, whining, crying, suffocating Gonny or hurting your sister. You are thoughtful and kind and such a good friend. GJ loves that you cried during the Haiti telethon and that any type of animal rescue commercial puts you over the edge. GJ can't even wait until we watch Whale Wars together. Then your dad will really be into us. You were so very brave for your surgery and even though your breath smells like there is a dying skunk in your throat, GJ loves you all the same. Happy Birthday to GJ's first born.

Deer Anonymous

This Joo is leaning over M, who is simultaneously loving and beating on the boob (to which he attaches himself 24 hours a day (nights too)), to respond do your bad 'Bama comment. THERE WILL BE NO MALIGNING OF THE OBAMA ON THIS BLOG. ANY FUTURE 'BAMA BASHING WILL BE CAUSE FOR EJECTION, AND YOU WILL HAVE TO NURSE M FOR A FULL WEEK. DOES THIS JOO MAKE HERSELF CLEAR?

That is all.

Uhem

GJ is so sorry for the long, long lag in posts. Ever since her husband did the unfortunate and impregnated her again things have just gone wrong. GJ got the flu (a la personal trainer barfing and shitting at the same time), strep throat, and a sinus infection. Add all that shit on top of gestating the third GJ fetus and you can understand. A has had strep throat for ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...8 weeks now. The removal of her T and A (and not tits and ass) is scheduled for the 11th. Oh kill GJ now. Today GJ took her to have her blood drawn and if that is any indication of how the surgery is going to go then really just kill GJ now. B enjoyed the drama and spent the whole horrible event laughing and running out of the room with a balloon that she got from ???? So there we have it. This month A turns 5, has surgery, GJ and hubby fork out their life savings for private school, GJ hubby leaves pregnant wife to go hang out with his lonely brother in SLC, GJ remains in the Fart hating her washer and dryer and dog who has spontaneously started eating cat shit. Stoopid.

Like A Cat in Heat

GJ hubby: You're acting like a cat in heat

GJ: meow

And now GJ is preggers and it's her hubby's fault. When your wife is acting like a cat in heat you should just go ahead and keep your dick in your pants. GJ had nothing to do with this.

STOP

in the name of The Law.

Foul

One of the more appalling things that GJ has done recently is to download several Taylor Swift songs from iTunes. Clearly this is something that should be blamed on the Fart. Seriously. How gross, but GJ cannot get enough of it. Do you want GJ to kill you or do you just want to kill her? For some reason GJ finds it to be good workout music. Sick. Really when your heart rate is at 183 and you may or may not die of cardiac arrest why wouldn't you want to sing about being fifteen and having someone tell you they love you? That's some stoopid shit. Speaking about working out GJ has made it through several more episodes with the trainer...minus the barfing and shitting. You're proud. Off to eat taco bell and drink the dew.

Mail Call

A concerned reader writes:

Dear Bad Joo:

Was your baby born without eyes, or did you just superglue his lids shut because you're a bad mom?

With interest,

Tess in Texarkana

Dear Tess:

I'm glad you asked. In fact, M does have eyes, and I rarely seal them shut, although I would if something horrid happen, like if Fox News took over my television and I couldn't turn it off. The proof is in the above pudding.

Thanks for reading!

Bad Joo

Bukkake

Dear M:

I will be blowing this photo up and rendering it in 3D (a la Will I Am during the presidential election coverage on TV) for your high school open house. Consider this payback for the migraines.

Love,

Mama Joo

Dazzle Horn

Oh B. You are such a dazzle horn. At 15 months you are a bigger dick then your mom, dad, and sister combined. You spend a lot of time being pissed about things, but it really is quite cute. You love Elmo, your babies, books, being outside, going to the Y, and touching your mom at all times. Your current vocabulary consists of: hi, bye, mom, dada, A, waffle, warm, no, no, no, Elmo, and pretty much anything else you copy from your mom.

No Pussy

GJ's hubby is no pussy. He spent part of his holiday vacay getting some tattoos. GJ does not feel the need to explain the significance. That's hot shit.

Happy Joo Day, Joo

Happy anniversary of your birth, o' fair-haired one. Happy birthday to the world's most awesome mother, sister, and friend. May the Mountain Dew flow with abandon and the Taco Bell be carried to your lips by well-oiled, tanned, muscular, and exceptionally tidy pool boys on this, the anniversary of the day you were born.

Now get your ass back up here if you want your present. I'm not driving down there with my crotch all up in flames and milk leaking out of every pore.

LOVE,

Bad Joo