A Southern Christmas

Okay, so everyone knows that Christmas is wonderful.  I love it.  It’s my favorite holiday.  I love the music, the snow, the lights, the traditions, the food, the presents, the love, the family, but especially….THE EGGNOG!!!  I am very picky about my eggnog.  Seriously.  It has to be just so, or I refuse to drink it.  I can’t have the stuff that they sell in the stores, because it is so thick that it could stop a bathtub drain in it’s tracks.  I know that there are others out there who feel the same way, and simply refuse to drink it.  I actually won’t drink it alone, unless I seriously thin it down.  But, I am also a bartender and because of this, I present to you, A Southern Christmas.  Don’t be scared…we’re gonna talk about how to make the perfect Christmas Eggnog, but with a vodkaandmotherhood twist.

To start, if you don’t drink alcohol, you might want to not attempt this drink.  This one is for the grownups only.

You’re going to need:

Eggnog (4 ounces)

Creme de Cacao (1 ounces)

Southern Comfort (2 ounces)

Bar Shaker

Martini Glasses

Caramel and cinnamon to decorate the glass

First, take the caramel and make a decorative twist in your martini glasses.  Next, take your eggnog, creme de cacao, and soco (that’s southern comfort for those who don’t read bar jargon) and shake it with ice in the bar shaker.  Once thoroughly chilled, strain off into martini glasses.  Sprinkle with cinnamon, and enjoy!
That’s it!  Who says the holidays have to be a headache?  Just get out your eggnog and have yourself a Southern Christmas!!

So many ideas…

Okay.  I found a new website.  Well, it’s new to me.  And let me tell you…I am addicted.  It’s called Pinterest and I just can’t get enough.  It’s more distracting than Facebook, because it gets you in and you start looking at stuff that is Oh So Cool and you just can’t stop.  So, this is me, stopping.  I’m now writing this blog for you, but I do believe that you should check out Pinterest.com.  Because It. Is. Awesome.  And you can pin anything that you see from any web site (except facebook).

The internet is so addictive.  And trust me on this…addiction studies is what I have my degree in.  Seriously…they’ve done brain studies and your brain lights up like a back alley hooker hitting the crack pipe when you are online and engaged.

Especially if you’re into those 1st person shooter games.  Those are especially bad.  But the internet can be great too.  It’s an invaluable resource when my kid gets some random rash on their elbows.  What the hell would I do without WebMD.com???  I mean really?  I don’t remember what I did before Google.  Encyclopedias?  Waste of time.  Yellow pages?  Only if they’re online.  I don’t need cable.  I’ve got Netflix and Hulu.  But one of these days, I’m gonna shut it down for at least a week.  Because sometimes you just have to get out of the house, release the laptop and the iphone, and go experience something for real.  We wonder why we are all getting fat, sedentary, and no one is happy.  We are chasing dreams that are constantly perpetuated by the media that is taking up more and more and more of our lives.

Here’s an idea.  So, in honor of my Pinterest addiction I am dedicating the rest of my day to the real world.  Right after I finish this paper that’s due tomorrow.  Shit.

Shhhhhhh….

Truly, truly, truly.  Bad choices.  Yuck.  And now I pay.  With a sweet sweet boy bouncing up and down on my lap.  Being a bartender in Texas with children…not so much fun the day after I work.  Especially on a slow slow night.

Yes, this comes with a price.  Especially the older my poor body gets.

Have you ever noticed that when you have a hangover everything seems 10x louder than it is?

Day 1 of three.

I think I’ll go rehydrate now.  Don’t judge me.

Run Mommy Run!

So, those of you who think being a Mom is not a job…let me just tell you first off that you can kiss my ass.  Secondly, I can prove to you that it is damn hard work.  Here was my day.

Wake up at 8:00 A.M.  Wait, is it eight already?  Shit!  GET UP EVERYBODY!!!!!  WE’RE LATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Get Emily dressed and off to school, which is particularly difficult this morning because apparently this is her PMS week.  She refuses to wear any of the 12 pairs of pants I pull out of her drawer.  No, really.  Flat out refuses.  I tell her to get her pants on or else Mommy is gonna get crazy military on that ass.  She finally complies with some dark pink leggings (not the light pink ones Mom, you know that I hate light pink).  Shit.  She then complements her dark pink leggings with an ugly red jacket that truly only goes with her former T-Ball uniform.

Whatever.  She’s off to school.  Only 45 minutes late.  Shit.

I walk to the coffee pot, because y’all know I need my morning coffee, and I realize that there are still dishes in the sink from last night.  So, being OCD like I am about certain things, I fill the sink with soapy water and do the dishes.  I finally get them done and I make some coffee.  I sit down to drink it and check my Facebook and possibly write a blog, when I realize that it’s already past 9:00.  Damn.  I wanted to work out, because I’ve been trying to do that lately more often than once a month, so I decide that Ethan and I will go the gym with the pool and I can swim some laps.

My ADD takes hold and as I get myself and my son prepared I realize that there is laundry that needs to be done.  I pull the clean stuff out of the dryer, change the other over, then fold the clean stuff.  (I don’t put it away because I hate it). Then I realize that the dog needs to be fed.  With my Dad visiting my brother this has become a chore of the children’s, which means I have to monitor the 3 year old while he does it.  I get the water, he gets the food.

Shit.  The gym.  I go to my room and realize that I can’t really leave Ethan to his own devices without him destroying something or making a huge mess, so I find a cartoon for him to watch.  Now, where the hell is a bathing suit that doesn’t make me look too much like Rosie O’Donnel?  I go with the slimming yet mommyish blue bathing suit that covers the entirety that is my body and realize that I still haven’t gotten coffee.  Oh, I made it, but it’s sitting on the desk in front of the computer.  I walk out, bathing suit clad, and sit down at the desk (yep, I’ve been told that I have a very severe case of ADD).  I log onto Facebook and post that I’m going to the gym and does anyone want to have lunch later?

My friend C. quickly replies.  The only problem is, she has a photo shoot at 11, and has no hair and makeup girl.  DUN-DUH-NAAAAAAAAH~!  Super Krystie to the rescue! I quickly jump into my phone booth and spin wildly into my cape so that I can run over and help her with her client.  Oh yeah.  I’m that friend.  Well, there was a bit of selfishness in there.  I wanted her to go to lunch with me.  🙂

By the time I get done helping with hair at the photo shoot it is past 12.  So much for the gym.  I jump in the car to run to Wal-Mart…we are in dire need of paper plates….and by the time I get done spending 80 dollars there (those are some phenomenal paper plates), I realize that it’s now past 1.  I call Cyndi, who is finishing up her photo shoot, and tell her that I’m getting lunch now, because my little boy is starving, and honestly, I was too. Cyndi agrees to meet us at Applebee’s in about 20 minutes.

As I turned the corner from the Wal-Mart onto the main road I see a homeless woman with a sign.  “Will work for food.”  I make a split second decision, pull over, and invite her to lunch.  Fuck it.  Why not?  I always like to feed people.  She tells me her name, and my son graciously tells me as we walk into the restaurant, “I don’t want to sit by her.”  Yep.  My own little Dennis Leary.

We sit down at the restaurant and make small talk while we wait for Cyndi to get there.  Small talk with a homeless person is not easy, let me tell you.  Especially when you think about all the “stuff” that are your personal problems that seem so huge, but their “stuff” is made up of things like, holy shit it got a lot colder today and I don’t have a warm blanket for tonight.  But, we ate, and laughed and even my son warmed up to her a little bit.

Cyndi gets there and we finish lunch.  I then drop the lady off at some random place, and decide that it is 2:30 and I have just enough time to make it to Sam’s Club because we are almost out of fruits and veggies at my house, and that is against our religion.  No, seriously.  We’re from California.

Sam’s Club takes longer than I thought it would and OH SHIT!  It’s 3:00!  I have to be at Emily’s school in 15 minutes to pick her up!  I can’t drop her off late and then pick her up late to make it up!  We run to the cash register line, which is WAAAAAY longer than it should be on a Wednesday afternoon, and finally check out.  I make it to Emily’s school and grab her up just in time to realize that I forgot pudding and gummy worms for her Halloween party at the Girl Scout meeting tonight.  Oh yeah, and Emily needs red tights for her WonderWoman costume. I swear, if I don’t get this ADD under control…..

We drive to the supermarket, then back to Wal-Mart to get the needed goods.  It’s 4:42 by this point.  The party is at 6.  Shit.  Okay…I can do this.  Wait!  I have to pay the light bill or it’s late today!  I jump onto the computer and realize I can’t find my login information.  Fuck!  Where is that account number.  Are you kidding me???? It’s 4:45.  I have literally 15 minutes to get my payment in, so I call customer service.  Cue the elevator music…and then the voice of the annoying bitch who tells me that my wait time is going to be longer than 10 minutes due to high call volume.  I am frantic at this point.  Yes, it’s only 10 dollars, but I don’t want to pay another 10 dollars, damn it.  Wait…I remember!  I put in the correct info, and PRESTO!  The bill is paid!  Shit.  Okay.

We have to make dirt cups now kids!!!!  Uh huh…we now have to make some cutesie little cups with oreos, pudding, and gummy worms for the party that we are supposed to be at in 1 hours.  We get it done in 15 minutes and I realize that I still haven’t showered today.  I magically get in and out of the shower within 8 minutes…I’m like a ninja.  I yell to the kids as water is still dripping down the crack of my ass, “Time to put your costumes on!!!”  They yell with excitement, always ready for anything Halloween related, and start the process.  I walk out of the bathroom to help, still in a towel, and proceed to get them properly clothed.  Once they are done I realize that I am still in a towel.

Deep breaths. How much longer is my day???  Well, I still have to go through Ethan falling asleep before we even get out the door to go to the party as well as homework to be done and a meeting about the work Halloween party this weekend.  I would tell you about all that too, but I am getting too tired just writing this blog.

Hope your day was somewhat productive too!!  I think I’ll go have a little nightcap now.  🙂

Fat bitch.

Okay.  So I’ll admit that I’ve been guilty of calling other women fat bitches.  Which really doesn’t make sense, considering I too, am a bitch, and I as well, have a few dimples on my thighs.  Girl on girl crime is on the rise, and ladies, we are all guilty.  I don’t feel that it’s a crime to be fat or a bitch for that matter.  But to deny who and what you are…that is a crime.

I like to maintain reality.  I am one of those friends who you know will tell you the truth.  I’ll tell you if you’re being extra bitchy today.  I’ll call you out if those jeans really do make you look fat.  If you have food in your teeth, I’ll be the one who lets you know. If your husband is an asshole, I’ll probably call him out.

Why are there so many others out there who are the complete opposite?  Women who are so concerned with what society thinks that they can’t embrace their innate bitchiness except behind the backs of everyone else drive me fucking insane. I am taking charge of my bitchiness and putting it out there for you to do the same.  Call me a bitch; it’s what I have printed on my bar key, so don’t worry…I already know.

What’s wrong with being a bitch, as long as I’m an honest bitch?  Who’s with me?