Wiener jokes aside...

We have a wiener issue and his name is Oscar.

Oscar has decided that he is the Alpha in the house and now "marks" on Todd's stuff...

Todd's side of the bed.

Todd's couch in the batcave.

Todd's pillows on Todd's couch in the batcave.

Thankfully, I work with "the dog whisperer" and she told me all the things we are doing "wrong" as Oscar's parents and how to fix said broken dog.

But, it still comes down to the fact that Oscar thinks I'm HIS bitch, is marking where MY SPACE is near Todd, and I have learned my dog wants to hump me.

They tell me at work that I should be flattered I am so attractive, I cross species lines.

If only Oscar was my type.

I'm going to puke, now.

An Open Letter to Martha Stewart...

It's bad enough I actually thought you were worth something...

Then, I found out about the restraining order your ex-husband had to get to keep you from calling him OVER and OVER in all hours of the night. I still have nightmares about my ex doing that...

Then, I found out your are a fraud, steal recipes and ideas from other people, are a total egotistical beeotch with a good marketing department, are a JAIL BIRD (wait, you STILL sound like my ex)...but the final straw was when you copied All Clad and put your skank name on it. No, wait, the final straw was really when I saw your name at Macy's instead of KMart, where your white trash ass should really be...

Ok, besides all that...whoever came up with the good idea (and we know it WASN'T you) to make shrunk wool sweaters into hats and mittens, I have a picture for you:


And I feel really dirty because you and I share the same compulsive ways of organizing our closets. Granted, your obsessive compulsive ass has 23 to my one...


As much as I hate you...I also pity you.

Can you tell me what your "Jail Bird" name was...???

I think it was "Cookie".

I got a call from my husband's daughter that I must take the child porn off my blog! She said, "I can see his butt cheek!" Ok, I see more than that while he is at the water park.

Don't worry, no one in this house wants to see boys naked, myself included.

But, I just noticed if you look at this picture of Jack below and the picture of Ginger Pye and me on the blog, it is frighteningly familiar.

Only, I don't desperately need a hair cut.

I just keep telling myself, "He only will have hair until age 22; unless, I buy him Rogaine for his 16th birthday.

We want him to get an earring with chain attached to the ring he'll put in his eyebrow. So far, he's not going for it.

He wouldn't even humor us and get a nose ring.

Bah.

This is how we wash our wieners...

Wii Wii Wii all the way home...

It was my birthday on Thursday and I, being the sacrificing mother that I am, offered to pony up half of the money (Jack putting down the other half) for a Wii.

I drove to Northeast Minneapolis, in THE MOST ASS BACKWARDS way, since the ONLY Target (or any other store) in town that had any Wii's in stock was the lonely store just North of the 35w bridge collapse. Well, duh, no one could get there! I had Todd on the phone shouting driving directions to me while he was on mapquest, and had my father, in a much calmer tone, on the phone helping me get home.

We stayed up until 11 (yes, on a school night!) boxing, bowling, and playing tennis. My back and arms hurt for two days afterwards, because well, I sort of got into it.

I knew it was totally worth it a few minutes ago when Jack came up and said, "Mom, you HAVE to come and get me past Victor! You are the best boxer in the family! You even beat TODD!"

It's touching moments like this that bring a tear to a mother's eye. Sniff, sniff.

Gotta go, I have Wii ass to kick!