Joyce 'Crazy Ass' Meyers

Seriously, this lady is bonkers.

I was given a book titled, 'Help Me, Im Married' and since I'd never read anything of hers, I didnt know until I cracked it open that it was the bible bangers guide to marital bliss. From the jacket cover, I was expecting funny yet poignant stories of the trials and tribulations of marriage. What I got was a one way ticket to Crazy Town.

Exhibit A: 'There were many times when I let my husband make love to me simply out of obedience to God, and though Dave didnt know it, tears were running down my face....Once in a while Dave would catch me crying and ask me, 'what's wrong?'. I would tell him I was just trying to obey God but was having a hard time doing so. Dave respected my willingness to do whatever i needed to to be free...'

PSSST! Dave's an ass! Who continues to bang their sobbing wife who's jabbering on about Jesus forcing her to diddle you???! If I looked down and saw Chad's tear streaked face, I'd assume I hadn't heard the safe word and immediately stop to make sure he was ok and not seriously injured...You know, because I CARE!

Exhibit B: 'Take good care of your children but do not put them above God or your spouse.'

Um, Sorry, but my husband is a grown ass man and can take care of himself.. Im pretty sure God can handle his own business, too. My kids are numero uno, comprende, Joyce?

Apparently she also speaks a special 'prayer language' that only she and God know and prompts you to check out the appendix at the back of the book to learn how to speak in tongues and learn your very own top secret prayer language. Hey Joyce, if I learn the secret prayer language and send you the upc code from this shitty book, can I get a super awesome decoder ring?!

Hit me back -

Mills out.

The Holidays: An In Depth Look at Depression.

First of all, I'd like to send a shout out to my peep Laura Leigh in NC. She mentioned that some co-workers of hers kept up with my blog and I'd like to thank them for finding my ridiculous ramblings amusing. Keep doing the Lords work, folks. (See, that's funny because they work for R.J. Reynolds tobacco company. Get it now? No? Then you're dumb.)

Ok, now on to serious matters. My family is effin crazy. I mean bat shit crazy. Both mine and my husbands are certifiable. I dont even know how to write this without one of them finding out about it and telling all the rest. Im pretty sure I have at least 3 literate relatives but that isnt the main problem. My fear is that they'll call to confront me instead of just expecting me to be a no show at this years festivities. Best case scenario, I'll be uninvited, but im not gonna hold my breath. (I'll save my breath holding for when we inevitably break down and go because every person in my family chain smokes and refuses to go outside or even crack a window. Approximately 30 mins after arriving, it looks like Gettysburg after the big battle. Smoke hanging in the air, kids strewn about the floor, pale faced and gasping...*shudder*)

Moving on. The food. You know going into it that you're playing Roulette with your intestines and some years are worse than others. (Think National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation.. "I'll take some of the yella..") Some questions Ive asked myself over the past few years:

"How do you burn no-bake cheesecake?"

"Why would anyone make a salad out of pineapple, mayonnaise and rice?"

"How old do you have to be to understand sprinkling sage over dry cornbread does not make stuffing?!"

"Did ***** make this? You know she likes to let her cats help her cook.."

So after filling your belly with what could quite possibly be ticking time bombs, you have to carry on a conversation with a person you have absolutely no desire to speak to. Here are a couple choice snip its from this years bonanza:

'Oh, so he's back in jail? That's too bad. How many DUI's does that make now? 8. wow.'

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'Well, actually, you only have one liver, so if the doctor says yours is damaged you are really in quite a bit of trouble...Yes, I'm positive we only have one.'

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'No, im good, but you go ahead. I dont really smoke pot...in church...'

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'Yeah, im still married and I still dont have any sisters..'

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This is just the tip of the iceberg, guys. Some of the convo's are so ridiculous that it would take 3 pages of backstory and a vin diagram to fully explain. Im just hoping I can get the smoke shampooed out of my hair and this migraine to go away before it's time to do it all over again at Christmas. =/

Oh yeah, I said it...

If tomorrow a genie came along and granted me three wishes, with nothing being impossible, I would undoubtedly choose these 3 things:

1. A sit down talk with God. I fancy myself quite the interviewer and Id love nothing more than the opportunity to go all Geraldo on the Almighty. Ive been working on my St Peter impersonation and to see God shoot milk out his nose has always been a personal dream of mine.

2. A Parenting Manual. Children would literally be born with them. The days of trial and error are over. This way every parent in the world goes to bed each night and SLEEPS instead of worrying if they have said or done the wrong thing, created a serial killer or just messed their kid up enough to be on the next season of Jersey Shore instead of going to college...

3. All the women in the world would be blessed with the confidence of a Biker Babe. Everyone wakes up in the morning looking exactly the same as they did the day before, only now, no matter what they look like, they believe they are officially the HAWTEST thing on the planet.

Now, I know that the first two things could NEVER happen, that's why I want to focus on #3. I have never in my life seen a more confident group of people than the Biker Babe community. It would never cross my mind at age 28 to shred a pair of jeans into a thong with pockets, strap on my leather bustier that appears to be from the wardrobe of Stripperella and go out in public. But that is precisely what these women do. And they do it at age 36, 47 and 59. If they werent wearing see-thru mesh leggings, Id say they had balls...

Im also convinced that there is a 'Wheel O Tatts' you have to spin before you are inducted fully into this society. It contains only hearts, roses, names, family portraits and cartoon characters. This is simply a backup way of identifying fellow members. If you happen to miss the fact that they are wearing leather chaps, (with nothing on under them), and a denim vest that was clearly purchased in 1976, any question about their involvement in the Sisterhood of the Oh Geez Please Put On Some Pants can be quickly resolved.

It's not for the faint of heart, folks, but if you can commit to ridiculous tattoos and everything in your closet being too small and made of denim or leather, I think the perks are plentiful. While other women are putting on their size 10 mom jeans, you will be squeezing into your size 3 dukes and your combat boots, rockin' a bustier and in your mind, lookin' damn good while you do it.

Who couldn't benefit from a touch of that mentality? Give yourself a break from the self criticism this weekend. Head on over to BBBQ, watch some ladies of the night owning their muffin tops, camel toes, horrible tattoos and outdated hairstyles, and then cut yourself some slack. I know that's what I'll be doing.

If Violence Isn't The Answer, You're Not Asking The Right Question.

Dear Skinny Bitches:

Let me start by letting you know this rant is nothing personal. I've just been feeling really crappy about myself lately and my laziness coupled with my residence in a college town is creating nothing shy of an innate urge go Mel Gibson on SB's. Again, it's not you, Skinny Bitches, it's me.

Hear me out though, because I feel there may be middle ground for us to converge on.

I get it. You're skinny and firm and young and life is good. Really, I do understand. I was there myself just a few years back. But there is one small difference between us and I feel this issue needs to be ironed out before someone gets their SB neck snapped and I end up doing hard time.

Please stop rubbing it in my face. Im gonna have to respectfully request that you not frequent malls or grocery stores between the hours of 8am and 9pm.

Lay off the booty shorts! I mean, those cute little muffins barely covered by the thinest layer of cotton imaginable are nice and all, but it's not truly an ass until it can smother a small dog and/or has doubled in width due to childbirth.

Stop staring at my mom jeans. If they are good enough for Jessica Simpson, they're good enough for me.

Dont try to talk to me and tell me my kids are cute. Each one of them stole a piece of my soul and paid me back by adding a pant size. They are terrorists but you dont find that out until they are too old to drop off at the firehouse. Complimenting them does not win you brownie pts, so keep walking.

Stop saying you can eat anything you want and never have to work out. Stop it or I will stop it for you.

Brush your hair. I know that you are easy on the eyes and that most guys dont pay much attention to your hair, but do me a solid and rake a comb through it before you leave the house. Whatever it is you're doing with it in that ponytail holder is a no-go. I mean, a ponytail is one thing, but ive never seen a pony with such a ridiculously matted ball of bleached fuzz propped up that high on it's ass. uh-uh, nope.

As you can see, SB's..Im not asking too much. I just want some peace. I want to go to the store, buy groceries and not have to see 15 'ghosts of metabolism past' prancing around. One of these days you'll understand. Until then, by all means, pig out and prance like the dickens. Just do it out of my line of sight unless you want it to be your last prance...

All of my love,

-Misty Mills

25 Things

These are things I want you to know about me.

1. I hate odd numbers. (with the exception of the # 3)

2. Obviously, there are no absolutes in my world.

3. I was voted, 'Most Likely To Be Hunted Down And Brutally Murdered By A Former Classmate'

(No worries though because I keep a close eye on the two guys that were voted Most Likely To Hunt Down A Former Classmate and Brutally Murder Them)

4. I'm kind of a jack ass

5. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don't capitalize God.

6. I have a favorite #, letter, planet, color and time of day, but I dont have a favorite song.

7. I love Astrology. I'm a Pisces and I REALLY DO LOVE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH!

8. I dont believe in divorce after the 10th year of marriage. You either have to stick it out or kill the other person for wasting more than a decade of your life.. it's like Sudden Death overtime.

9. Anything to do with kids being mistreated makes me cry instantly.. Any one else being mistreated makes me laugh. See #4

10. I love beer/liquor breath.

11. Im horrible at math but I secretly love doing it.. Sex I mean, not math. That's dumb

12. I was lying on 11. I really do love math, I just have to keep up my cool persona. Everyone kinda see's me as a bad ass, ya know, so there's alot of pressure.. *sigh*

13. When people brag about something, it automatically makes me want to pick on them. Instantly.. I dont know why. Apparently I hate self confidence. See # 4 again

14. I am an honest complimenter. I feel that's a good quality to have in a friend.

15. Im ridiculously high strung.

16. Im about to start making stuff up because my interesting quirks dont roll 25 deep.

17. I dont judge my family and friends but outside of that circle, you're screwed. I become the epitomy of the B in the glass house throwing boulders! It's not my favorite thing about myself, but currently no steps are being taken to change it. =/

18. Im addicted to self help books. I'm naive and eagerly eat that shit up.

19. Contrary to what EVERYONE seems to think about me, I do not like rough sex. There, I said it! I dont know why i give off that, 'beat me, bite me' vibe, but i do and it bugs me.

20. Chad hates it that I talk about things like #19 to strangers. I think it's funny and i do what i want.

21. Chad is the boss of me. Please ignore # 19 & 20.

22. I torture Chad by singing everything instead of talking when we argue. "Well, Chad, lalalalalala, maybe you should stop being a dick for five seconds so I dont have to kill you in your sleep, lalala..I already apologized for hurting your feeeeeeelings but if you are going to continue being a girl about it, im gonna have to go to the stoooooore and get you some tampons and you know im not dressed for that so give it a REEEEEEEST.....weeeeeeeee.

23. The only thing im consistent with is being inconsistent.

24. I think shaming people into doing better is the only way. You dressed like that today on purpose and now im obviously photographing you in WM to show my friends. You suck at life, go home and fix it.

25. If only the good die young, I am poised for a long and healthy life. =)

Golden Rules

I need to get something off my chest, so just roll with it.

I think I should come up with a few Golden Rules. Rules to help guide us through life in a small town where EVERYONE you graduated with still resides and share them with the rest of the world to help save us all from unnecessary frustration due to inevitable 'run-ins'.

Rule # 1 HAS to be this: The amount of time you spend 'catching up' has to be directly proportionate to the time you spent talking to each other in HS divided by the number of years since you graduated.

Example: I see 'Rachel' at Walmart. We spent a total of 3 minutes chatting in Spanish class once when I asked her if she'd seen my purple pen. ( It was my favorite and Im pretty sure she stole it.) It's been 10 years since we graduated, so our conversation on the ice cream aisle need only last about 18 seconds. (3 mins = 180 seconds. 180/10 = 18)

Im pretty sure that 18 seconds isn't long enough for her to tell me about her cats upcoming gal bladder surgery AND the weird complications of her mothers gastric bypass procedure. But, since she didnt know about the rules, I was held captive for 20 mins and that's time that could have been better spent chewing on a hobos toenails.

Rule # 2: Let's keep it upbeat, people! I DO NOT need to know that the reason your cart is so full of groceries is because your cousin's meth lab exploded and they now have to live with you and you have to keep alot of food in the house so that the state doesnt take all 6 of the kids away... How am I supposed to react to that? Cuz let me tell you what I did.. I turned around and looked for Ashton f*ckin Kutcher because I thought my ass was being punked. Please explain to me why some people arent ashamed of their family and openly air out their dirty laundry? Get with the program folks! We ALL have those cousins, but people with any 'home training' know you shut your mouth, buy some Tums and prepare for the ulcer that's on it's way from bottling up all the familial bullshit! Geesh!

Rule # 3: Stop bragging. I saw you braless in a white tshirt unloading 5 dirty kids from an '87 Cutlass. Boasting that you're a 'stay at home mom' is just comical. Yeah, I work and I drive a 10yr old VW... you have nothing to prove to me...

Rule # 4: Do not assume Im over our beef from the 8th grade. Im not.. Im still mad. Walk away quickly and pray I didnt see you.

Which brings me to Rule # 5: If you walk past someone 4 times and they haven't acknowledged you, yes they saw you, no they dont remember and or want to talk. I personally do not handle rejection well, so to avoid being the unremembered, I simply ignore everyone and refuse to initiate any conversation. It works well for me but not the best plan of action if you are attempting to make new friends.

Im so drained, but Im glad that Ive been able to share a little of the horror that has been my past 2 Wal Mart trips. Pass these rules on. Email them to friends. Lets get the word out on acceptable behavior.

ENTP

Hey ya'll!!! Im BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

I just took a Face Book personality 'test' thingy. Thought I'd share some info that might help ya'll understand me more better. =D

News flash, Im what the doctors call a 'extrovert'. Apparently answering 'yes' to the question, "Is it ever ok to pee with the door open in a public restroom?" will get you lumped into that extrovert category in a hurry. My beef is that they don't leave a space at the bottom for you to explain that you were only peeing with the door open because you were trying to tell the lady washing her hands that her hair looked AMAZING and that you really wanted to know where she got that skirt. See, totally legit. It never sounds as crazy once I explain...

(*side note: Chad would like to go on record as saying that im full of crap and every situation I end up in is completely ridiculous and not something that normal people do. I think we can all agree Chad is dumb.)

Part Deux: This is the part I could not agree with more. Im "colorful, zany and generally great fun to be with". SOOOO TRUE! Clearly there is some real science behind this thing because they just hit the nail on the head. "Impulsive and whimsical" -Just spot on. I dont much care for the "but don't count on them to get any work done. " part, though. Hold the hot dog cart, here fella. I'd like to know where im supposed to squeeze in time for work when im insanely busy being impulsively whimsical. I mean, what if I came to your job and told you to drop everything and do something zany and colorful that made everyone around you have a great time? How would you fare? What's that? You'd need some prep time and maybe even an assistant? That's what I thought. Suck it. Im not lazy, I just need an undefined creative outlet for the sporadic bursts of energy I get. And a cot somewhere close by for when I need to 'recharge my batteries' after a tough morning of zoning out and daydreaming about Zonkeys.

(*Side note: Zonkeys are real.. Google them. Truly majestic creatures. Body of a Donkey, striped legs of a Zebra. Awesome.)

Moving right along! This is where it got hairy for me. You know when you read/hear something about yourself that you know is true but it's kinda hard to take? Specifically because it doesnt paint you in the best light?.. Well, this was my, 'seriously? wow, that totally sucks, but I can kinda see your point' moment.

Agreeableness:

First off, I'd like to state that they pretty much tricked me into reading that horribly crappy part of the diagnosis by throwing out a sentence I considered to be a compliment. The first line was, 'You are someone who dislikes needless complexity'. And it's 100% true. I like things to be as simple as they can be. No need to add stress to my life! Im completely ANTI-drama, so this sentence reeled me in. Then it dropped the bomb on me and it took me 3 times of reading the next part to fully wrap my mind around what it was saying. To paraphrase, they polled 350,000 people and of that group, only .4% of them are LESS AGREEABLE than me! It also said that im never afraid to point out what's wrong and do not care what anyone thinks about what I have to say. DING DING DING! I knew I could be a biotch but I had clearly underestimated my potential. Im thinking I could really do big things if I focused and pushed myself to just really not give a shit. (Im curious to know why I dont get cussed out more than I do..why has no one besides Chad told me im a complete B?!)

In closing, Im a crazy ass...but Im an open minded crazy ass that doesnt mind peeing with the door open or taking a long lunch with a friend for the sole purposes of telling them how dumb their latest idea, boyfriend, wardrobe selection, etc. is. What can I say? I guess Im just a giver...

The Secret to Life

Ive been so busy the past couple of weeks that blogging has taken a back seat. That is unacceptable, I know. Im planning on making a shit ton of money off this blog and retiring. (This is my backup plan, of course. My porn career was not nearly as lucrative as Id have liked. Guess you make most of your money off SELLING the tapes, not so much making them and storing them in the basements of your ex-boyfriends moms house..but whatever).

So, im back for a minute and im gonna drop some heavy stuff on ya'll today. Yep, Im gonna tell you all what the Secret to Life is.

Ready for it? Got your pencil handy? You're gonna wanna write this down. It's your friends, folks.

It's not your spouse. They drive you bat shit crazy most of the time and you've sworn to God to stay with them, so you're hands are tied. It's not your kids, they are worse than the spouses ever thought about being. It's like having a house full of insane midgets running around at all times. F that!

It's your FRIENDS! They are the only people in the world who understand you 100% of the time. They don't judge you when you say you want to choke the life out of your husband or sell your children to gypsies. Then know you're mostly joking. My life has taught me that, IF you surround yourself with the right network of people, there is nothing you can't get through. Nothing. It's amazing.

Ive been so busy lately with school and kids and family that i'd stopped appreciating what a great thing I have going with my friends. For ever taking them for granted, I need to be kicked square in the cake hole.

I live in a rectangle, im broke all the time, my sons are underweight sociopaths, and at the end of the day, Im still sleeping soundly on cloud nine. How?, you ask...Because, I have friends who were there for me when I was 16 and got knocked up*. I have friends who supported my decision to quit my job and go back to school to do what I love. I have people who know that even when I gripe about my husband, I still love him and really dont mean that I wish he'd meet a nice girl at work and run away with her. They all understand that Im just blowing off steam and that I love my life. I have friends who understand that after a long week of taking care of kids and going to school, I need to let my hair down. They also understand that 'letting my hair down' means getting hammered, listening to music and not worrying about being the only ones dancing to a crappy band in a hole in the wall bar. They are always on the level with me... Always.

I have people. They have me. It is what makes the world go round. Thank you, Jesus, for Amber, Cory, Melisa, Sandi, Laura, Bonnie, Kristin, AJ, Vanessa, Ariane, and so many others.. I am blessed beyond belief.

*(It's technically not called 'pregnant' if you are under 18, live in AR and the father of the baby could be charged in a court of law. The proper term is, in fact, knocked up.)

Alone At Last

Chad has taken the boys to Missouri. I'm so busy with school functions this weekend that they would be sans mom anyway, so they've skipped town. As always, the first 20 minutes are filled with golden silence, excitement and just plain relief that I can pee alone for the next 2 days. It's the little things, folks. I have literally been on the phone with my friend Laura while trying to go to the bathroom and had to ask her to hold while I 'shoo' kids from my bathroom. The boys will interrupt my potty break, or shower or whatever else I might be doing to ask me a completely irrelevant question they could have asked their NON busy father. Any mother knows this to be God's honest truth.

So anyway, Im home alone now. And 25 mins after the van pulls out of the driveway, Im bored out of my mind. The house is a mess. (SURPRISE!) I clear a path and attempt to relax on the couch. But, I cant, because all I can see is the mess around me. We are not talking about 'commercial messes' either. There isn't a spilled glass of juice on an adorable toddler fingerprinted table. Oh no.. My kids are the American Gladiators of mess making. There is a laundry basket full of unmated socks turned upside down in my living room floor. Dishes in the sink. Leftover birthday cake covering the floor under my table. Shoes EVERYWHERE. (Most of which are mine, but let's not digress) I can't relax staring at this crap. I get up and start to clean. An hour later, the kitchen and living room are clean. Now Im alone and bored in a clean house. I realize I've erased the signs of my boys from the rooms around me and I get even more lonely. Poop.

Let the Facebook stalking commence. There is not a person I have met since the 3rd grade that I have not creeped on FB. Im just saying. I do not like to leave any stones unturned when it comes to the lives of others. It fascinates me. Very little holds my attention better than an awkward FB status update from a person I barely know. The only way it could be more appealing to me would be to cover it with bacon. Facebook photos are my Kryptonite. And please stop judging me, I hate it when you do that.

Ugh, and then I notice my stomach is hurting. Damn, Im hungry... Chad left before making dinner and Im probably gonna die. I dont want to go get anything, Im already in my pj's. I decide to eat an entire can of Wolf brand chili. (I know, I know.. this was not my brightest move). Now my guts are BROKEN. My large intestine is cramping up in a way that leads me to believe this isn't gonna be a restful night. The pain is so intense I cannot continue to stalk. I have to retire to the couch. This is where I pass out in Chad's hoodie and under Aydin's blanket. I need to smell them to get to sleep. Turns out, if there isnt a boy next to me with the last name Mills it just isn't a good night.

"Home is whenever I'm with you.." - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's 'Home'

Oops! I Did It Again...

So, how long should you wait after going to someones house, getting hammered drunk and causing all sorts of mischief, before you send them a, "Hey! I had a great time last night, am I ever going to be invited back or was that vase as expensive as it looked?", text?

Of course, I'm only speaking hypothetically here, folks. I would never actually show up at a friends house with a 6pk of Mikes Hard Lemonade, (which I drank all by my lonesome), and do and say ridiculous things until the wee hours of the morning. With the most notable of those 'things' being the PG-13 verging on R rated Justin Timberlake style 'dance-off' and the deciding I was European for the night so that I could kiss everyone on the mouth. Yep, this is all purely hypothetical and purely for research...I'm just curious...

Besides, if those things did really happen, I'd be too crippled by the humiliation to be blogging. (Either that, or I'm just so used to this sort of outcome that I'm kinda over it already and have decided that I need to literally carry around a disclaimer in my pocket).

Someone needs to invent a , 'Shenanigan-B-Gone' pill that's over the counter. Of course I'd need the extra strength...Hell, who am I kidding? Prescription strength it is!

Jungle cats

I was reminded today of a 'funny as long as it's not happening to you' story and I thought Id share.

*Before I begin, I'd like to put it out there that I have continually apologized profusely to my children.*

About 2 years ago a co-worker mentioned a kitty her friend needed to find a home for. I figured it would be a super fantastic surprise for the boys so I called Chad and, of course, he agreed. I made arrangements to pick the kitten up on my way home from work that night.

My coworker was a liar! This was not a cute little kitty. This turned out to be TWO fully grown, long haired Puma's. (Ok, maybe not real Puma's but I swear they came up past my knees and weighed over 30 lbs each, And, I could have shaved one of them and made Jay Z a Persian car cover.) There was no freakin' way I was taking one, much less both of these Brontosaurus cats with me.

...so, they talked me into taking them both. *sigh* They really were pretty docile and beautiful once you got past the size. They took up the entire back seat of my Corolla. I had to stop by Wal Mart and get some food and beds and dishes,etc for them. They lounged calmly in the car while I was in the store. I couldn't believe how well they were taking this. It was like they were high or something.

...so you guessed it. The previous owners had given them meds to calm them down and ease them into this 'transition'. By the time I got them home, it was after 9pm and Chad and the boys were in bed. I was tired so I got the cats familiar with the litter box and crashed, too.

Here comes the part I didn't think through. During the night, the cats came down off the meds and decided to explore their new surroundings. I never even thought to put them in their cages to sleep. I woke up at 2am with Alexander in my face. Nose to nose, eyes as wide as moons, 'Mom! There's something in my room!'

Poor Alex had been woken up by the cats prowling around his room and was scared to death. I followed him back up to his room to get the cats. I assumed Andrew hadn't been bothered by them since he's a pretty heavy sleeper and he hadn't been downstairs. I decided to pop into his room to check on him anyway. (Every now and then I have a rational, motherly thought) I turned on the hall light and still to this day cannot believe what I saw. When I peeked into his room, he was laying frozen in his bed with his eyes wide open staring right into mine. There was a giant black cat curled up next to him in the bed.

Now, ladies and gents, try your best to imagine what you would do if you woke up in your animal free home with a giant jungle cat in your bed. The kid was terrified! I asked him how long he'd been laying there awake and he said almost 2 hours! Just laying there, wondering what the hell was next to him and if it was going to eat him or just claw his eyes out.

I was torn between horrible guilt that my poor sons had been scared out of their mind and fits of hysterical laughter. Now that I think about it, this story might explain why Andrew was so excited when the allergy doctor told us he was allergic to cats... Needless to say, i'm not expecting to be well cared for in my old age.

Mission Statement

I've never read a blog. Today a blog was forwarded to me and it was really serious business. The lady writing the blog was advising the world that breastfeeding is the only way and if you choose not to breast feed, you are, in fact, killing your baby. Now, I don't have a strong opinion on breastfeeding, but what I did take from it is that most blogs seem to be about something. Cooking blogs, parenting blogs, God blogs, 'I'm the perfect wife and mother that all you less fortunate souls should strive to emulate' blogs and I realized I don't fit into any of those categories.
Anyone who knows me knows that Chad cooks for me or I starve. (Assuming a holiday involving candy hasn't recently passed, because if that's the case, I will sustain myself on leftovers from my children's stashes until Chad makes it back.) I'm not in line to receive any Mother of the Year awards and me preaching to anyone about how to live their life is just plain comical. Which gave me an idea!

Maybe I just blog about my life...Maybe I just tell you what I did today, the decisions I made and how it all played out so that, A) You can feel better about yourself. and B.) So you have a WWMD (What Would Misty Do)reference to consult*.

*For best results, try doing the exact opposite of what I do, it seems to work out better that way for most*

Also note that I am not responsible for anyone who reads this blog getting fired or punched in the face. That's just the natural course of action when you conduct yourself as I do on a daily basis and as my good friend, Cory always says, 'The first rule of the Misty Club is never fall asleep first, the 2nd is do as she says, not as she does.'

Ok, so I totally made that 2nd rule up but in my defense, Ive fake-quoted Cory saying FAR worse things and he didn't get upset. And Im glad I mentioned that, too. Folks, be prepared to be fake-quoted. You might have once said to me that 'the weather outside was beautiful' but what I heard was, 'Misty, your outfit is friggin cute and your teeth look especially white today. Have you lost weight?'

That is all for now. Ive eaten approximately 2lbs of Easter candy while waiting for Chad to come home from dinner with his dumb co-workers and I'm not feeling well. I get a little rowdy when he's not here to police me. =/

I must now go 'bitch-text' him until he gives up and comes home.

Jibberish

Blogging is taxing. It's hard to come up with something to write about everyday. Not all days are filled with exciting and hilarious antics around here, even though it may seem that way at times.

Since nothing extraordinary happened today besides me managing to cut the same finger twice during a single haircut, I'm gonna dig through the my archive and tell you about a day from a couple weeks back. (All while pretending my husband isn't really watching womens basketball on tv. With the invention of super supportive sportsbra's I can't for the life of me imagine why anyone would want to watch a womens basketball game. Weird braided pigtails on man shoulders...*shudder*)

Anywho, as I was saying...

Nevermind what I was saying! Chad, (My husband/cook/ laundry guru/baby daddy/gentle lover), just walked by and read what I was typing. He immediately defended womens sporting events. Apparently they are all the rage. Men have found respect for these exhibitions and are openly watching them with friends. News to me.

Shortly after 'setting me straight' he begged me not to speak of him in this blog. All he accomplished with that request was to ascertain his inclusion in my blog ASAP. Please allow me to tell you about my husband.

He is 6'3"-ish, 170lbs. In laymans terms, he is a telephone pole, in womens terms, he's an ass bc he eats non stop, never gains a pound and always makes my 5'4" look 'thick' standing next to him. Once, (emphasis on ONCE), he thought it would be funny to try on a pair of my capri pants and surprise me with his hilarious high-water clown pants. The fatal flaw of his plan was that I had just popped out baby #2 a couple of weeks prior and was eagerly awaiting the day when I could squeeze back into my brand new Gap capris. He fit nicely into a size 4 pant that wouldnt even come close to zipping on me. Instead of the raucous laugh he was expecting upon entering the office, he was received with loud sobs and a painful jab to the gut.

Now, it is not my intention to make my husband look clueless or stupid. Normally he is quite intelligent and caring. Generally speaking, he's the responsible one and im the pain in the ass that forgets to give him my debit card receipts so he can balance the checkbook.. Im just saying that when he does slip, he manages to level the playing field in one fell, remarkably idiotic swoop.

Why I love but cant shop at In Style Accessories

**One thing you need to know about me and keep in mind while reading this is that I H-A-T-E awkward situations. I dont like awkward comedy, (I cant even watch The Office), it drives me insane. I wish awkward didn't exist.**

In Style Accessories. If you've ever been in this little store, you love it...cute jewelry and purses for really great prices. It just seems that every time I shop at the store in the NWA Mall, I feel like Im being punked. I have been in twice recently and the same exact scenario played out. It blew my mind.

First off, all 4 employee's of the store are roughly 16-18 year old girls. (I have no issue with this age group, Im just trying to paint a clear picture for you.) The music they play in this particular store is top 40 pop and pop-ish country. Again, I have no issue with this genre of music, it does not hinder my shopping ability in the least.

That being said, if when I am trying to shop, all four 16-18 year old girls are belting out Taylor Swifts' FIFTEEN at the top of their lungs, I am caught off guard, to say the least. It becomes especially awkward for me when I need to ask one of them a question regarding inventory. Do I interrupt the 'In-Style Karaoke Hour'? Do I wait until after the chorus, (because I notice that the chorus is all the tall blonde girl knows, so I maybe could sneak a question in then)? Do I wait until the song is completely over? Do I join in?! Please make it stop! I just want to know if you have any of the ruffle purses with green trim in the storeroom!

Eventually the song does end and by this time Ive already decided on what I want without help from the Singing Salesforce. (Picture a cuter version of the cast of Glee, without the singing ability)

I am standing at the cash register. I have my card in hand, I'm ready to checkout and run. The cashier asks if I found everything I needed and I just quickly nod, 'yes'. Im on a mission to get out of here ASAP. She takes my card and swipes it through the credit card machine. Of course it's the kind that takes a while. At this time, I hear Rascal Flatts' Here Comes Goodbye start streaming through the speakers... Sweet fancy Moses get me outta here! And then it happens... Not 2 feet away from me, while staring me right in the face as my debit card is processing, she beings to sing. NOT quietly to herself, not under her breath. Full-on singing as if I were Simon Cowell and she's singing for the Save... I want to end my life. In my head im shouting, 'STOP STARING AT ME WHILE YOU SING THIS! OMG! STOP! PLEASE STOP!

Just then my card receipt prints and she doesn't even stop singing to tell me to 'Come again' or to 'Have a nice day'... I run out of the store with flop sweat on my upper lip searching frantically for my husband and my youngest son who are leisurely enjoying a milkshake in the food court. My husband wants to know what took so long and why Im so sweaty...

Easter Sundae

**Just a heads up, this is my first blog and I have ADD like NOBODY'S business, so expect rapid course corrections and rambling. Oh and no names will be changed to protect anyone's identity.**

It was brought to my attention that I need to blog the adventures of the Mills clan due to the extreme nature and mostly graphic content of day to day living. I'm not convinced, but here goes!

Yesterday was Easter and this year it was quite a treat. The kiddos played outside for 5 + hours while I caught up with some pseudo-family members over great food. (I say 'pseudo' family because we aren't blood related, however we are certainly time, history and tears-shed related, so maybe pseudo isn't the correct word. Hmm..)

Anyway, the day couldn't have been better! The weather, the food, the inappropriate conversations...Everyone laughed heartily at least twice, which always means memories were made.

Now that I look back on it, I know with certainty that I am capable of 'taking a joke'.

All in all, I managed to laugh off being called 'fat' by my ex-boyfriend, a 'lazy cook' by his newest wife, 'manly' by his brother, and a 'child' by my current-soon-to-be-deceased-husband.

Last time I checked, a normal woman would have drown all of those people in the pond! I, however, was poised and graceful and took it all in stride. (Except for when I drew 'I LOVE BALLS' on his mothers lighter)

But yes, i chose to spend my day with those people because, after all, they are my pseudo family and Im sure they were mostly joking...