MY MELON

Step 1:  Choose your victim.

This'll work.

 Step 2:  Cut off the top "corners."

and realize you can't cut straight.  Say bad words.

 Step 3: Use big knife and gut that sucker.

MUCH easier than carving a pumpkin

 Step 4: Get scoop to help with diggin err-thing out.

Wait, this is a scoop for---

 Step 5: Get distracted by scoop.

Yum.

 Step 6: Get your head back in the game.

Get bigger scoop.

 Step 7:  Consider calling it soup and quit for the night.

maybe give it some pepper?

 Step 8:  Get back to it.  Beer yourself and start cuttin on the "handle."

Cutting again?  Crap!

 Step 9:  Cut zigzags or whatever all around "basket."

CRUCIAL:  Drink enough so that this looks cute.

 Step 10: Observe aftermath. . .

. . .and cry.

 Step 11:  The next morning.  Fill the basket with fresh and frozen fruit  and call it done, dammit.

Step 12:  Drive an hour and forty minutes away with masterpiece to impress folks at family reunion.  Learn that the reunion is next week.  Say bad words, give the fruit basket to the nice ladies at the bait shop by the reunion site.  Drive home.  Say a few more bad words.  Laugh at the thought of calling this a trial run and doing it again next week.

YES, I'M SURE IT'S AUTISM. JACKASS.

If you ever meet my child, the Princess, please don't make an asinine remark such as, "Well, she doesn't look autistic" or "I don't see it."

Most people see my little Aspie on outings, where she's interested in the change of scenery and the people whose ears she can talk off.  Yes, she's extremely outgoing and sociable, but she sucks at it.  She has zip social skills.  She can talk to you all day long, but cannot listen to a thing you say, nor will she reciprocate in anything resembling a conversation.

In more comfortable settings, structured and scheduled, Princess is much different.  When given directions contrary to her desires, she has full-on melt-downs and tantrums than can last hours.  During these outbursts, there's little one can do to talk her down.

She's also very sneaky and manipulative.

Getting her to do anything around the house, or to leave when visiting anyone, usually results in trauma, it seems.   Whines, screams, shrieks, physical self-attacks . . .on and on I could go with her negative responses and behavior.  But when she's happy, she's amazing.  So when ignorant jackasses say stupid things contrary to what I know about my own freakin child, I get a bit upset.  It ruins the happy moment I have watching my Aspie Princess in a good mood, smiling and laughing and enjoying life, and reminds me of the rest of the time.

Besides, ass, just because you don't see it, because you don't think the diagnosis is right, doesn't mean that me and her doctors are dumbasses.  We didn't force her to have autism.  I didn't ask for there to be something wrong with my child.  Don't freakin judge me and think you know more than I, her mother.  Even if you work with other autistic children---you're not an expert.  There are no experts in autism.  You may have experience, but each of these babies are so freakin different. . . ugh.

And another thing---she doesn't "look" autistic?  Are you freakin serious?!  What, exactly, is a child with autism supposed to look like???

'Cause this is what mine looks like.

Bottom line:  you know nothing about my children.  Don't look down your nose at me and pretend like you do.

Goin out for one beer and waking up with a monkey in Bangkok

So I got to be 16 again last night---I went to a training session at work, left at 3:30 or so, and went to see Jesi.

Jesi.  Beautiful, funny, Jesi.  My "sister" from high school.  She taught me so much, made me laugh even more.

So I called home and said, "I'm not coming home"  The Big Munky said, "Okay.  Have fun."

I did.  Oh, I did.

Jesi's daughter didn't want to go with us, said we wouldn't be any fun.  Psh.  Shows what a genius 5 yr old knows, right?  So we went to the theater and the only films showing within :30 were The Hangover 2 and Bridesmaids.  I didn't care too much for the first Hangover movie, because everyone hyped it up so much before I got to see it.  So we opted for the sequel.  Had the theater to ourselves, got to yell at the screen and laughed as loudly as we wanted.  And that happened a lot.

Afterwards, we beered up and visited a friend, then went back to her place and had to sneak in to pee without waking up the kid or the grandma, then sneak back out to drink more on the porch.

I staggered in my own house around 2:30.

I need nights like these, every so often, to remind myself that I'm not that friggin old, that I can still go out and have fun and do things that I used to allllll the time.  To keep up with old friends who I love so much, who can make me laugh so hard. . .  its worth the sore bladder and headaches the next morning.  Yeah, I miss being 16 and being able to go out all night and not feel a thing, to not worry about kids and other obligations. . .but I know that, as an adult, I can still go out and have fun and keep it in moderation so I can still seem like an adult.

But that line of thinking kinda takes the fun out of it.

So, just every now and then, I go out and get stupid.  And I love it.  And then I start feeling guilty and remorseful and sentimental, so I go without for a year or 3.  This time, though, this time I swear to relax and laugh more as often as possible. . .I may just need to set a curfew for myself.

Autism Awareness shirts

Autism Awareness shirts

I had the privelage of meeting this awesome lady at the annual Autism Conference in Tunica a few weeks ago. She is so sweet and funny and true to her cause. She makes all kinds of stuff for Autism Awareness--shirts in all sizes, colors, and sleeve-lengths, jewelry, buttons, tote bags, coffee mugs, magnets, decals, etc. Just about everything is custom made when you order. I believe she told me she also does personalization and bulk orders. AND, the icing on the honkin cake---it's all very, very affordable. Yeah. Plus 1 on that shiz.

Right now iloveachildwithautism.com is having a sale on Proud Dad shirts for Father's Day. Get you one!

NOM NOM NOM

For those of you who know me (personally or from Facebook), y'all can attest to the fact that I'm all about some  food.  I love me some nom noms.  By all reasoning, I should be a lot fatter than I am, but I can honestly say that God must love me---or else He wouldn't've given me such bitchin skinny genetics.

Food.  Hells yes.

I get more excited about good eats that I should.  I know I worry some folks.

Anyway---if any of you hellions are ever out Tipton County way, take yo asses out to the Bluffs. . .Drummonds, that is.  They have this secret little place called Dakota's Cuisine la Luzianne and they are friggin amazing.  "Mr. Errol" is a damn fine cook, who brought his family up from LA around Katrina's time.  Go in and see their scrapbook on the counter, it will blow you away (heh.  see what I did there?).  He makes all of cajun dishes aww-then-tick-a-lee, and I've before asked if he put some voodoo shit on some of it.  There's no earthly way possible some of that stuff is that good.

I especially love the classics--gumbo, jambalya, catfish, and etouffe. . . oooohhhh, the etouffe. . . ahem.  Yeah.  My all time fave is the catfish Delacroix.  Seriously.  I get more excited about that dish than I do a freezer full of ice-cream AND a cabinet of Oreos.

Their po-boys are huge and stuffed and good God I am running out of words to describe just how effin good this shit is.

The service is pretty amazing too.  They're friendly, easy-goin folk, very accommodating, very comforting.  Tonight me and the Big Munky took the Brood out there.  I said I was becoming close to having an affair with the catfish delacroix so I needed to try a new plate.  Couldn't decide, so I asked for a surprise.  Dayum.  A plate of cajun sausage and shrimp pasta came out. . .by the end of the meal, I was slouched in my chair, head lolling to one side, stuffed and satisfied.  And they gave the Brood free cake.

I love that place.

On facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000881621169

Directions: http://www.bing.com/maps/default.aspx?v=2&pc=FACEBK&mid=8100&where1=5754+RICHARDSON+LANDING%2C+Drummonds%2C+TN+38023&FORM=FBKPL0&name=DAKOTAS+CUISINE+LA+LUZIANNE&mkt=en-US#bGlkPXluODE2eDEzODc2ODc3

I LIKE JUST ABOUT ANYTHING PURPLE

What madness is this?!

Just the Princess, finally getting her birthday present---purple hair.

Before anyone jumps my ass about dyeing a kid's hair, I did consult with a professional first and got the go-ahead.  So shut up and take in the awesomeness that is this kid.

Rock on, my child.

INSOMNIA, PT.2

So I made a set of kids legwarmers and made the boy model one of them

he's the only one with legs scrawny enough to fit

then I heard something calling from the fridge. . .

if you say so. . .

Then I really got down to business.

camera case

iPod bed

headband and wristlets to complete the Breakin outfit

Then I realized how neglectful I was being---

. . .and, since I'm a responsible drinker---

of course, by the time I finished this, the beer had gotten warm on its own.

So I started on a hat, got halfway done, and saw the sun come up.  Screw my goals!  Big Munky came home and found me in this strange Irish yoga pose with a crochet hook tangled up in my hair and a Stitch foot in my butt.

good luck finding that hook, Self.

AND THERE'S STILL FREAKIN YARN LEFT OVER.  I HATE THIS HOBBY.

Why yes, I believe I will.

YO, INSOMNIA---BITE ME

So, school's out for the summer (cue Alice Cooper--you know it's in your head now) and, since I work in a school, I'm out too.  This would be great, considering how much we love hot weather and sleeping in and staying in our jammies half the day. . .except that I have horrible insomnia.  And if I have nothing planned for the morning, then I have no reason to make myself lie down and try to sleep.

Facebook doesn't help either.

And, the boy, Stitch, has adopted my bad habit/debilitating condition.  He's currently doing his psycho chicken shake dance to a Sesame Street segment.  (BTW, Netflix and Wii---best hook-up since Ozzy and Sharon, seriously.)

So, instead of cleaning, like I should be, I've been "productive."  That's my way of justifying spending time and money on yarn and patterns.  I'm on a mission tonight.  I started off with a full skein of cheapo variegated junk, and am determined as hell to use it all up tonight.  So far I've made a pair of legwarmers for a toddler (yep, it's June, it's 2011, I'm not even 30, and I'm makin freakin legwarmers CAUSE THAT'S HOW I ROLL, BITCHES), a case for my camera, and a cute headband (y'know, to match the legwarmers).  And the skein's only half gone.

I'm suddenly very sleepy.

Pics to come!  Good night to all you lucky bastards who get to sleep whenever you feel like it.