Bad Day

Yesterday was a bad day.

First of all I'm breaking out and my face looks like a topographical map.

I thought I would dress up a little, and by dress up a little, I mean get out of my pajamas. I pulled out some khakis only to find they wouldn't pull up past my post-pregnancy thighs..... looks like I'll keep wearing my maternity jeans for another few months.

 To make myself feel better I ate 3 bowls of Captain Crunch cereal..... with Crunch Berries.

I had to run some errands. Of course it took a lot longer than I planned - as everything takes longer with a feral 3 year old and a tiny baby.

Pretty soon Cryin' Ryan and I had eaten all the candy from the bottom of my purse, and Tyler was screaming for food.

We stopped at some little Mexican food place (no, unfortunately it was not my favorite restaurant ever, Taco Bell) and I lugged the kids and everything else in.

I bought some food and sat in a corner booth, because I know my kids are spirited freaking psychos, and I wanted to shield the other lunch customers from their shenanigans.

Right after we sit down, Ryan grabbed for the drink, knocked it over, and spilled red fruit punch ALL OVER my white shirt. I was pissed.

He looked up at me with terror in his eyes.

I felt so bad. I don't want my kid to look at me like I'm going to murder him.
I said "Dude. It's cool, it was just an accident" and he literally wiped his hand across his forehead and said "Whew! That was close."

We ate. I fed Tyler some baby food, but he wanted boobs. He starts screaming again. I hate breast-feeding in public so I was doing everything I could to calm him down.

 Then, I knew I didn't have a choice.

The problem was, I could not find my breast-feeding cover-up thing. With titty monkey shrieking and everyone trying not to stare at me, I pulled my boob out of my fruit punch-covered shirt and shoved it in his mouth.

While this is not the first time I have flashed people (I did go to college...) it was still weird and uncomfortable and creepy.
I gave the meanest stink-eye to everyone, DARING them to say something to me about it.
No one did.

Then I ate way too much Mexican, ensuring that I won't fit in normal pants for even longer.

Yeah. I've definitely had better days.

Nasty House: Rape Room

 

One of the best things about my house is that there is a ton of storage space.

Storage space is a scarce commodity in Southern California, especially in the older houses.

 

I hate clutter. I hate clutter more than I hate the moderate case of thrush baby #2 and I are passing back and forth lately.

 

I am barely able to act socially acceptable as it is, if my house is a mess, I might as well put my muzzle on and stay in my kennel.

So..... I clean obsessively. Sometimes a clean house is better than sex..... which is not an insult to my husband as much as it is an example of my excitement towards clean stuff. Sometimes, after I scrub the house down, I just want to cuddle and smoke a cigarette.

 

 

I rely on storage space to keep my house creepily neat.

I breath heavily and out of my mouth when I think about it.

I love storage.

 

What I don't love is when one of my storage spaces looks like a rape chamber.

 

One of the bedrooms in my basement has nice travertine floors, mirrored closet doors, ample sunlight, and a door that opens up to a cheery veranda surrounded by a tall awesome hedge

There is even a cute arched walk way cut through the hedge.





This seemingly innocuous room contains a door in the corner that leads to this:

a little dreary, but it is an old house, no big deal. But see that smaller doorway?

 

 

 



Welcome to the rape room.

 

 



 

 

 

It puts the lotion on it's skin.......

 

Creeeeeeeepy, right?

 

There are no lights in there. You have to crouch down to fit since rapists/kidnappers don't care if you can stand up all the way. Dirt floors to absorb blood and tears. And also so they can bury the bodies when they are done. 

What is that white crusty stuff on the wall? Why are there random ropes and wires hanging from the ceiling?

Maybe I should hang something on the stained walls to warm the place up.

 

Or maybe not.


 

Nasty House: Basement

My house is wierd. In California, houses do not usually have basements.
But then again, houses usually don't have a Chapel and a bunch of nuns living there.......

I live on a hill, so the original owners built a walk-out basement.
The lower level is like it's own apartment. There are 2 bedrooms, 1 and 1/2 baths, full kitchen, fireplace and a seperate enterance.

We had always planned on renting it out, because when you pay over a half million dollars for a house, extra rent money is nice.

It was as ugly as the top floor before we remodeled. It looked like the 1970's had diarreah and sprayed it all over our basement:

We ended up remodeling this part of our house first so we could get decent renters. The people that wouldn't mind living in the un-remodeled squalor, were scumbags. Remember the human dog terd, Dane?

Ever since we remodeled, we have had awesome tenents.
Currently, the Mormon Missionaries are renting from us! This is freaking awesome because LDS missionaries don't watch t.v., they don't use the internet, they never have parties or bring home random girls AND they help me carry my groceries in.

Stop being jealous.

Anyway, here are the afters:

Once again, Jared did all the work himself......Dang, my husband is awesome.