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Not to be all cliche about it, but what a difference a day makes. Yesterday ended pretty awesome. Danny sold the Saturn *sniff*! Then we went to pick up the boys from daycare. Which is always sort of nerve racking since you never know what’s happened in the 8 hours where the boys are unleashed on other unsuspecting children.

Do you think Fox went potty?

Do you think Leo will have an incident report?

Do you think they’ll let them play together like they did on Monday? Wasn’t it weird how all the other kids completely avoided them like they are trouble or something?

Do you think, do you think, do you think

And usually the answers to those questions aren’t good.

Look, I don’t want to give the wrong impression. Fox and Leo are not the worst kids there. That prize went to the little tigergirl who attacked everyone in the toddler class. Fox and Leo aren’t vicious just…you know, kids? I guess.

Anyway, we get there and of course Fox is in time out, I mean, that one’s a given. But it was only for markering on his face instead of paper. Danny and I shrugged it off because, a.) stupid rule and b.) washable marker.

Then the big news – Leo didn’t take down any of his “little friends”! Bless! We were super excited to not have to read about biting/pinching/pulling/hitting on his sheet. Oh and “little friends” is how daycare refers to the other children. It’s both cute and cloying and I’m never entirely sure how I feel about it but I find myself repeating it, even at home. Like, ‘Leo you need to quit pinching the shit out of your little friends, ok?’

What happened was they bumped him up for a couple hours. Which means he was in the toddler class with the cool older kids instead of lame class with the almost toddlers – they call that class “transition”. It’s like the halfway house for babies. Transition.

So the only reasonable conclusion to draw is that Leo is way to awesome to hang with the lames in transition. He needs to be with the bad asses in Toddler Room. Toddler Room teacher even said she had fun with him in the class! I know! I was pretty sure the answer would be something like this but I didn’t want to brag. I need to keep it humble you know.

Kind of like douching then acting like you don’t.

Speaking of….

What else can you think of that’s soooo much easier coming from your mom?

Post in comments or the facebook page!


Actually, more than just a word. I would count them but that’s math so…

Well, here it is. My first day in my new job.

I have no idea what it means for the blog. I imagine I’ll be a lot busier since my old job mainly consisted of me using the blog to look busy on the reference desk and discouraging people wanting to ask questions.

*side note: I’m a terrible reference librarian. A good librarian in all other ways though.*

In my new job I will have to be impressive and maybe not talk so much about Star Trek. Or balls. Or Unicorn Stud.


I don’t know if it’s possible.

I guess I’m trying to say that I may not be able to post/comment as much and that’s ok. You’ll be ok.  I will do my best to keep you filled to the brim with Lysol.

Yes, you weird spider bitch, the fault is indeed yours! You only do now and then care instead of constant every second care – noooo!

Also, you are an insect/human hybrid. Like some fucked up Pinocchio.

No, wait –

Ah! Yup, husband, she may be laying eggs in your ear but at least she’s Lysol clean!

That’s right ladies! Your husband is cheating and your kids are unhappy little trolls all because you don’t douche…with lysol. Naturally. Hello, it’s the standard.

It leaves you with a tonic sense of well being…

wait? Seriously? Like booze? Or coke (not that I’ve ever done that, mom don’t panic but I’ve heard things)?

Now, I’m kind of being to see the appeal of this lysol business. Of course I’ll take my husband’s crap, clean my house obsessively and let my kids friends tear the place up if I’m HIGH. Geez, Lysol, couldn’t you have just told me that from the beginning?

Realizing I have to go to the dentist this afternoon reminded me of when women used to spray Lysol up their vaginas.

At first glance you might think this Lysol ad is showing a little bit of equality. Maybe this Sue is freshly lysoled and Tom hasn’t even bothered to pull his nose hairs or something. Maybe he’s unshowered? Maybe he needs to swish some Armor All mouthwash?

But no, this stupid stupid woman has to be “straightened out” by her doctor. Her man has every right to pout like a child because she has been careless with her feminine hygiene! You can’t do that ladies! Not even once!

Next the woman and her vampire cuddle by the fireplace. Economical, gentle, immortal. Lysol.

I’ve been wanting to go back to these days

First off, married folks ONLY. Don’t want you single ladies to enjoy the pleasures of sexual intimacy. Did we say pleasures?  Oops! We meant perils! PERILS!

I wonder where her douche husband is headed off to? I mean, really is the odor that bad? I doubt it. I truly doubt it. You know why? Because I’ve lived with men and there’s nothing in the world that smells like a man.

I love that she keeps her home immaculate and looks as “pretty as she can”. Like, there are limits.

It is super important to marital happiness. Super. Important.

Also, scientifically safe and effective and oh my god people used to douche with soda and salt?????

I’m seriously beginning to hate the things I’m learning about status quo genital history with this project.

Also, in reference to the blog title, Fuuuuuck you Sigourney Weaver.

Remember when I was all – check this out? And you were all, ‘that’s some crazy shit’ and then you moved on? Well. I didn’t.

We’ve discussed how close I am with the googlegods and how I get somewhat stuck on things. It’s a blessing and a curse. So…

yes, what I’m telling you is there is more to this Lysol douching revolution than first thought.

For your consideration:

“Still the girl he married”. How precious. Marrying girls is so great isn’t it? And I mean, staying a girl is even better! Boo aging. It’s almost as bad as


I like how she drops her illegitimate kid with the nanny. Bye Johnny! And the man’s like, ‘hey kid I’m only pretending to like you until I can send your bastard ass to military school!’

Of course, she “stays young with him” which is code for “fakes orgasms while she thinks about booze”.

Finally, the fear. The fear of incorrect douching and disinfecting. It can lead to many a bad thing. Mainly, HORRORS, displeasing your latest husband. But just to make things more official there’s a scientific brochure.  That comes in a plain envelope. It’s like a metaphor for female sexuality. Hidden, white and, hopefully, disinfected enough to rot a dick.

Bravo Lysol.


Maybe all I need is a good dosing of “Lysol”.

Nothing is worse than a greasy aftereffect, am I right ladies?

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