It's the witching hour. Perhaps I should buy some holy water...

Okay, so technically Halloween is tomorrow. Whatever.

This year's costume is gonna be pretty cool, but I think last year's costumes were the best...

We dressed up as the Scooby Doo Gang, minus Shaggy and Velma.

Because it's Friday and I feel like keeping shit simple due to my forget-my-crotch-if-I-didn't-have-it-permanently-attached-to-my-handbody mentality, here are our costumes from last year!

Scooby Doo! Is this not the cutest costume?! It cost me like $40 on Ebay, but it was totally worth it.

Schmexy Daphne Blake - We did a sort of 'updated' version instead of the traditional Fred and Daph. Because I couldn't find a Daph dress I liked...

Erf, however, looked fantastic in stressed vintage jeans, his blue/white shirt, polo and the handmade red/orange ascot. No lie, I sewed it by hand the night before and I used my flatiron to iron it flat. Ghetto rig, FTW! Also, I love him bleach blonde.

The Scooby Gang - I thought it was a cute effect.

This year Erflet is going to be a ninja, and I'm going to be his victim. I do well with makeup effects - black eyes, split lips, cuts and bruises, here I come! Well, tomorrow anyhow. We're going to our niece's birthday party. Me dressing up as having had the shit kicked out of me at a kid's party = win, don't you agree?

Because our boss says that for Halloween I could only dress up as a receptionist. We are a law office, after all. Even if we're going out to have a long drinking lunch fairly soon. ;)

You lucky, lucky kittens.

Yes, more food porn. Strawberry Chocolate cookies (I'm pretty sure I perfected my recipe, by the way) (Yes, I know you all don't really give a shit about the recipe that I invented unless you're eating it), Peanut butter chip peanut butter cookies (I love Reeses for making both peanut butter and peanut butter chips), and miniature apple pies!

I also made Wanchai Ferry Spicy Garlic chicken for dinner. Look at me, all domestic-y. Shut up, enough with the June Cleaver cracks. Or I'll stuff a cleaver in your beaver crack. It's a meal in a box, sans chicken. And, because I'm so domestic-y, I made jasmine rice instead of the tiny packet of plain rice they include in the box. Cause jasmine rice is the SHIT.

I think it's really funny that you can find the directions online. Cause if I threw out the box, I'd totally go online to print off the directions instead of DIGGING THE BOX OUT OF THE GARBAGE.

Oh shut up, like you've never had to do the Dig of Shame.

Now the only digging you'll be doing is digging into your screen, hoping that it's Wonka-vision and you can reach up and grab my baked goodies.

Ooh, that sounded kinky!

So, the problem I've been having with my various strawberry cookie recipes is that the strawberries weep during baking, and inevitably soak the cookie in strawberry juices.

Haha, juices.

So, 78 paper towels later, I successfully squished the juices out of the strawberries. Not only were my cookies less liquidy, but the strawberry flavor was better incorporated throughout the batter.

See? I made milk chocolate strawberry cookies with Ghirardelli chips - Nestle can't touch Ghirardelli. When you pop these kittens in the microwave (ha, kittens in a microwave)(Just kidding, PETA, I'd never REALLY put a kitten in a microwave... At least, I'd never turn it on.) the chocolate melts and it tastes like a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Mmm, mmm!

While I was perfecting my strawberry cookies, this was chilling in my fridge. Because chilling formed cookie dough (like peanut butter or sugar cookie) helps it form better and with less mess. Peanut butter cookies made with Reeses peanut butter and Reeses peanut butter chips.

My kitchen smelled like a friggin peanut butter cup. It ruled.

Pretty peanut butter balls (ha, balls) coated in sugar, awaiting desecration by fork tine.

FYI - the chips made the flattening a wee bit more difficult than I thought...

But it worked out just fine. No worries! I wish my camera phone would've captured the sparkly sugar. They were prettyful!

Ah, chopped Granny Smith apples. Are you enjoying your coating of sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg? You bet your bitch asses you're enjoying it. Especially with the secret ingredient I added!

Miniature apple pies!

Seriously, these things are just too darling!

I'm slowly turning into a baking blog, aren't I? I mean, obvi, I won't hold a candle to Bakerella for quite some time. But I'm okay with that.

Because I blog about other things besides baking. Like New Problem Monsters and wanting to beat the hell out of my husband.

Ooh! "Out Tonight" just came on Pandora! "I wanna put on a tight skirt, and flirt with a stranger."

Erf took Erflet up to his dad's again yesterday to do laundry. They both came home acting like dicks and smelling of stale cigarette smoke. Erflet was good until his cousin got home from school. He didn't listen for SHIT last night, and Erf was acting like a patience-devoid asshat. I wanted to slap them both and go to the bar. I was afraid that I'd come home to bloodshed, however.

Even Erf has finally realized that Erflet gets a bad attitude when he hangs around his cousins. It might help if the boys were a wee bit better disciplined, but I'm not their mom and it's not my responsibility to interfere with her parenting. Or lack thereof.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister in law, she just has the family half Russian (where ya Russian to? Haha!)- half German temper. Erf has it too, and I've been slowly training him to calm down and be a wee bit more patient. Not an easy task, believe you me.

And I'm the one who has to take him to daycare the next day and explain to them why he has a bad Thursday almost EVERY WEEK.

Speaking of daycare, Erflet's daycare is being closed by the church. Stupid asshats. Luckily the other center is still open and two of the four teachers are going to move to center 1 and Caden is ready to begin there on November 9th. I'm incredibly sad because this means 1) No more living across the street from the daycare and 2) I'll have to get up half an hour earlier now every day he has daycare. Pissmonkeys. I already get little enough sleep. Fucking night-owl personality...

However, tonight is Grey's and Private Practice - and I was up baking until 1 am. No lie, check my Twitter. I foresee headpillow at 10:05 pm tonight.

And Erf has a job interview, um... Right now. I'll update if there's any news!

**Update - Erf said that they liked him and he's going to meet with some other people next week! Excellent!**

All the pleasure, none of the stickiness...

So, last Friday I received my JimmyJane Afterglow Massage Oil candle from Toy With Me!

I was so excited that I just kept opening it to sniff it. Sort of like some sex-crazed, massage-loving bloodhound. Except with more less wrinkles.

I was slightly disappointed with one factor, however...

The bubble wrap wasn't the fun poppable kind. Except for Erf. He bunched it up and it popped. I, however, am not the caveman of the house and couldn't do it. Way to be a pussy, self.

Once I got beyond my bubblewrap disappointment, I was delighted to open the adorable box!

As you can see, we chose the Pink Lotus scent. It had a delightful floral scent; it sort of bordered as a cross between lilac and gardenia. And those are two of my favorite flowers. Lilac is my absolute favorite. Jasmine, gardenia and rose are close followers. I love the whore-scented florals. ;)

Inside the box is everything we needed to get our party started! The candle (duh!), a brush for the massage oil, and matches! And the ever so important warning that this massage oil is not for use as a lubricant. You know, like in a vagina or something. Lube your chest/back/legs/earlobes/toes/knees/elbows away, kittens!

It's very pretty to look at, with it's frosted glass container.

And the brush was nice and soft.

Now, on to the nitty-gritty!

We put Erflet to bed, and we set up a pseudobed in the living room (because I didn't want to have to wash the sheets we just put on the day before). We lit the JimmyJane candle, and pulled out some other candles for ambiance. Erf, like the girl he is, appreciated my efforts at romance.

Or it may have been that he enjoyed the blowjob.

We waited for the candle to melt out to the edges as the guide directs you to do (hence the blowjob - I had to do something to kill time). It took about 45 minutes to an hour, not the 30 minutes they say it will. That? It's my only complaint!

Then, Erf laid on his tummy (he was a spoiled boy that night, I tell ya) and got the first massage. I painted his back for a bit with the brush and then re-lit the candle so it could melt more and be warm for my massage. I gave him a good half hour massage before begging finger cramps... The oil stayed nice and slick and it made my hands super-soft. It had a lovely scent, and it wasn't too overbearing.

So I flopped down after toweling off my hands and Erf's back, and Erf went to work on me. The oil was the perfect temperature, just warm enough to feel, but not too warm. It didn't feel slimy, it had a pleasant slip to it. It did make funny squish noises, though. ;)

I thoroughly enjoyed it, and can't wait to use it again. This experience was, for us, more so about the romance and reconnection and pampering than sex.

But seriously? I can't wait to use it for sex!

Also, there will be more food porn for you all tomorrow! I'm making peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips, milk chocolate strawberry cookies, and mini apple pies.

Excited? You bet your bitch asses you best be excited!

In which I turn to you, my readers, because I'm a please-everyone whore.

Yes, I will eschew my own happiness to make everyone else happy. I have done it for quite some time and will probably continue to try and make everyone happy regardless of how many times I find myself curled in the fetal position in my shower with mascara streaks running down the drain.

I frequently do everything I can, due to some of my family members' high-maintenance personalities, to make family happy. I grew up in a fairly happy home, but nothing changed the fact that my birth mother left me when I was born - and left me feeling as if I had done something wrong.

So, from early childhood, I've felt the need for approval. To know that I'm liked. This lent itself well to my high-school years as I am a pretty likeable person who can mold her personality at a whim. It's also helped me in various jobs that most people would've found unbearable. I'm that customer service person. Yep. I'm like the real life fucking Flo from the Progressive commercials.

Except you'll never catch me in a Bumpit with bright red lipstick.

Sometimes, though, I have enough and I open my mouth. I can stand up for myself, but the people who piss me off usually have a hard time hearing the truth about themselves. And so they stop talking to me for periods of time. So you may understand why I usually keep my wide ass trap shut up tighter than Fort Knox.

And because underneath the swagger I'm still a giant pussy, I'd like to ask you for your opinions on something that developed over the weekend. I can never be sure if I've overreacted to something, so here goes...

As most of you who follow my blog know, my husband Erf recently got demoted, causing us to need to apply for assistance until he can find another full-time job. It's not something I'm proud of because I thought that this portion of our lives was behind us; but I accept that it is, for now, a necessity. And I plan on getting off of it as soon as I possibly can, because I'm not one of those deadbeat parents who lets the state pay for everything without doing their best to support themselves -

And that is not directed to those who need aid to survive; it's directed to the crackwhores who squirt out babies for welfare money -

I'm a proud person. But I'm not too proud to take help when it's needed. I pay my taxes, and you're damn straight that I've got every right to use the state aid I help pay for to help me when I need it.

However, a family friend of mine commented on my facebook status yesterday, and I - being the giant pussy I am - am wondering if there's something different you might have said/done or if you think I may have overreacted.

The only things I'm changing are the names.

My Facebook status:

Excited for steak and baked potatoes. For now, watching Erf whup some orc ass (ironically, he named his char Urukai) in Champions of Norrath. The Everquest PS2 game is pretty decent. Nice and long - which, for Erf, is good!

My family friend, who is all about the dramz, posted a comment on that status. This is our following exchange (the red is him, blue is me):

How can you afford steak and potatos when you just posted that you were applying for assistance?

You know, Dramz, that's more than a little insulting and degrading. Way to make me feel like shit about something that's out of my control.

And fyi, I bought a cheap cut at $2 per steak and marinaded it and a 5 lb bag of potatoes is like $3 - if it's any of your business. Not like I fucking bought filet mignon...

Ashley? You posted it for everyone to see and I commented. No need to get all nasty on me. You said it. NOT ME! I can barely afford a pack of hot dogs let alone a cheap ass steak. More power to you if you can get the government to pay for you to eat steak and pay for health care and day care. Our system is FUC**D!

I said that I applied for assistance - whose business is it how I purchase food? I usually eat nothing but chicken and ground turkey because it's cheaper than beef. I buy almost everything generic now.

And Erf and I are both working, so we do have some income. The government didn't pay for our steak because it hasn't given us anything yet. It's no one else's business how we spend our money but ours, but it came out of our pocket. It's not like I applied for assistance because I'm some crackwhore trying to fuck the system. I didn't enjoy doing it, and I hope to get off it as soon as I can. But Erf got demoted and got his hours docked severely - so we NEED the help. I'm doing what needs to be done to help my family. Who are you to judge me? Because you're making me sound like some worthless welfare mom who's letting the government pay for everything. I'm not. I work full time and I pay taxes, so the money I'm paying my state should help me when I need it. I make NO apologies for that.

So, what do you think? Overreaction? Or was I right to react as I did?

Also, please know that I don't routinely go around spouting off things like this - or at least, I pretend that I don't. :)

The good news is that I'm planning on reviewing my JimmyJane Massage Oil candle tomorrow! They're fabulous, and if you can get one, buy one!

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming already in progress...

Today can lick my puckered poop chute.

I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days, kittens.

Things at work have been a mite bit crazy. I got in this morning to find out that there was a huge hullabaloo regarding one of our high-priority clients. So with the attorney and the paralegal both out of the office, I had to get as much of this taken care of as possible. The one I really felt sorry for was the cab driver; it's a good thing we use him for her stuff a lot and that he knows most of what's up with her.

My candle didn't arrive yesterday, but according to Toy With Me it should be delivered today. Yay for tracking!

I also watched Napoleon Dynamite for the first time the other night.

I may get flogged for this.

What the fuck is the point of that movie? It was slow and stupid and I'm pretty sure I lost at least 14 IQ points watching it. *side head-whip* Gawd.

I was also accosted by another high-maintenance client who (Thank JEBUS) has taken her crazy ass to another attorney and wants copies of her file. She called me at 2:00 yesterday. We have a whole office with her paperwork in it. She wants it by 3:00 today.

I'm pretty sure that I'll be typing up a letter or two, dropping off said file, and going the fuck home. *yawn*

Good news; we are now on Wisconsin's healthcare... I hate that I feel so dirty about this. Perhaps it's because I thought that this chapter of our life was over. Erf had a good paying job, we didn't have medical, but making bills wasn't by the skin on our teeth.

The lake looks like muddy hot cocoa again today.

I'm pretty sure that I need to begin watching Glee.

Things are getting stressed between Erf and I again... He gets pissy when he's not providing, and while it's understandable, it's mildly annoying. At least he and Erflet are getting to be best buddies. Gives Mama a much-needed break.

Want to know what's going to be in the bath with me, caressing my petal-soft (HA) skin?

This. Or, possibly, this or this.

Yeah, you're jealous. Lush is fucking awesome.

Substances that make me gag...

I brought Campbell's Chunky Steak and Potato soup for lunch today. Seriously, their steak is actually really good.

Aw, shit. I just read that label and realized that there are mushrooms in it. Fuck a duck.

I'm not a fan of mushrooms. I suppose I'll just eat around them.

I know, mushrooms are good, good for you, whatever (back down, health nuts)... But I have a very weird freaking texture aversion. It's my diagnosis (cause I'm totally a doctor), not a professional's. But there are certain textures I can't handle in my mouth without gagging.

Yogurt is not one of them. ;)

And by yogurt, I mean jism yogurt without chunks in it.

However, chunks of fruit in my ice cream (which I fucking HATE with the fury of 1,000 suns), mushrooms, escargot (even though I adore the taste), fat and gristle... The list goes on and on. They all make me gag-ariffic.

Erf is going up to his dad's house today. Can I even tell you how happy I am that it's raining out? Last week we had another issue with Erflet not having a close watch kept on him. For those of you too lazy to click the link I've so sweetly provided, Erf didn't keep a close eye on Erflet and he ended up almost wandering into the woods by father-in-law's house.

I wonder if I need to write in permanent ink on the inside of his glasses...

"THREE YEAR OLDS ARE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO BE OUTSIDE UNSUPERVISED."

Also, because I'm at work alone this week, and I got bored...

I was looking for a cool pic of Jessica Rabbit, and came across a blank coloring page pic of her.

So I decided to play with MS Paint. ;) I made her an auburn-haired, blue-eyed siren with a pink dress and pastel green gloves. Cause I have blue eyes and auburn hair.

And I do have pasty, pasty skin.

And I freaking love the color pink.

This is also an exciting week because last Friday, I won the comment contest on Toy With Me's Dear Redhead post!

I had to tell the story of my first sex toy experience. I'm very frank, not easily embarrassed, and all around awesome. Which, of course, makes an excellent platform for talking about my first sex toy experience.

What did I win, my lovelies? I won JimmyJane Afterglow Massage Oil Candles. She even let me pick the scent!

I picked Pink Lotus, by the way. Erf and I decided together, and because Pink Lotus sounds like a vagina he was sick of vanilla.

And reading Toy With Me's review on JimmyJane's candles... Well, it piqued my interest to say the least. I was incredibly excited that I had won, (because I never win anything) and she said they're schedule to arrive on Thursday, October 22nd. Tomorrow, kittens.

Grey's Anatomy and a free prize?!

Thursday fucking rules. Just like McLovin'.

And yes, of course I'll be giving you all a review once we get to try them out. I don't know if I'll get to do it Thursday night because Private Practice is on at 9, and Erf usually likes to go to bed around 10. Maybe my parents will take Erflet overnight on Friday...

Oh Moooooom!

It's Food Porn once more!

So a month or so ago, my friend Meghan had the brilliant idea to have a chocolate party. She had tried something chocolate that I had made, and realized that it would be fun to get a bunch of ladies together for a chocolate sample party!

Then she decided to go simply crazy! She had a Mary Kay party co-mingled with the chocolate. Cause chocolate? Great selling tactic. Even if you're not going to buy anything, you're getting free chocolate!

So she placed her order: a French Silk pie, an 8th Deadly Sin pie, a Double Chocolate Orange Torte, and Strawberry Shortcake Cookies. The 8th Deadly and Strawberry Shortcake recipes are ones that I created myself; the cookies I made especially for Ooh Law Law. :)

We met at a local Mexican restaurant and planned; and I remembered the cute mini tart pans I bought a few months ago. The idea for the mini-pie was hatched. Cookies are self-serve no matter what, and the torte would just be cut up prior to serving.

I'll have to split this into two posts, as I'm sure 16 photos are a bit much for one post. :)

Chocolate crust for the 8th Deadly Sin - too cute!

They're just sitting there, waiting for the cinnamon french silk, ganache and whipped cream...

Ah, there we go! Being a smart cookie (some would just call me a smartass, but whatevs), I piped different designs on each kind of pie so we could tell them apart. Stars seemed to work well for my 8th Deadly pies...

But I went with a shell/swirl combination for my French Silk.

Here are all my pretty ladies. Wouldn't they be perfect for something like a baby shower?!

Next up on my list; Double Chocolate Orange torte. A chocolate orange cake (made with fresh-squeezed orange juice and orange zest), filled with orange marmalade, drenched in a luscious chocolate ganache frosting, and garnished with hand-piped chocolate and a fanned strawberry.

Because Meghan was calling it a Chocolate Decadence party, I piped that out for the garnish.

(This is the side that says, 'Chocolate', by the way...)

And 'Decadence'.

Tomorrow, Strawberry Shortcake Cookies and the pretty place cards Meghan's mom created for the goodies...

To my sweet, wonderful, tolerant husband...

I'm going to get sort of sappy again. Because sometimes you lose yourself in the child and forget the man who helped you get one. And I don't ever want anyone to doubt that I love my husband very, very much.

I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey...

Fittingly enough, we're going to fly back to Halloween 2000. I had recently moved in with my parents (I grew up with my grandparents), and I was having a tough time with things. My then-boyfriend had a 'thing' for Britney, so I dressed up as Britney for Halloween. 'Baby One More Time' Britney. No, I don't have photos, but suffice to say I was hot in my plaid skirt, knee-high socks and heeled loafers. The braided pigtails were really hot, too.

That was the first time he saw me. It was a rough day, and I was a bit down. He told me later that he had the urge to come up to me and give me a big hug, but he was afraid I'd freak out a bit. Considering that we'd never met, he was probably right. :) He would see me every once in a while walking through the halls of the school. Then after the new school year began in 2001, he didn't see me once. He thought that perhaps I had moved.

Cue the second semester of school, 2002. My very first class of the year was Weight Training. We basically got to fuck around with the gym equipment all hour. Easy A class. Then, we saw each other. He was amazed to see me again, and I was stunned by the feeling I got the first time I saw him. I knew then that he was someone special, and I was right. The semester creeped by with him too shy to talk to me, and me trying vivaciously to get him to talk to me.

Junior year prom was rolling around, and I didn't have a date. I was going to take our landlord (Hey, he was a hot firefighter with a Harley. And better yet, he was willing to go with me.), and my heart dropped every time Erf described the night he had planned for his then-girlfriend for prom. Then, O! miracle of miracles! They broke up! I flew in there, regaling him with my woes of not having a real date for prom... Just a hot firefighter pity-date. :)

Then, he looked at me with his face blazing red and said, "Why don't we go together?"

Within a day, we were officially dating.

Things were bliss for quite some time, going on dates, talking every night on the phone... One of his favorite stories involves me trying on stripper heels, falling down, and knocking over a table full of shoes. In late April/early May of 2003 my Grandma fell ill. Her kidneys began failing, and her congestive heart failure was causing her heart to give out. We had been living with her for almost a year, and we had hospice nurses coming in to help with her care. It was basically just keeping her morphine dripping and waiting. Erf was the best boyfriend a girl could have asked for. He worked at a local construction outlet store loading/unloading trucks during the early (5 a.m.) shift, then worked at a local nursing home as dietary aide. When he was finished with work around 2:30-3:00, he'd come over to our house and do whatever we needed. Cooking, cleaning, helping with grandma's care, and just being there. Even when I wasn't home.

May 4th, 2003, my grandma passed away. Erf spent most of his free time with us, helping to do whatever we needed him to do. Shortly thereafter, things at his house became strained with his sister moving in, and Mom allowed him to move in since I had turned 18 on the 8th. (yep, 4 days after my grandma died. Good timing, huh?) In June of 2003, his mom died suddenly of a massive heart attack. I did what any good girlfriend would do, I spent time with his family alongside him, doing what I could. Soon after, things conspired and he ended up moving back in with his dad unwillingly. I followed within a month.

That began the first stressful period of our relationship; he shut down after his mom died. I persisted, because I'm a tough bird to shake, and not long after we got an apartment of our own he began to come around. Then we moved to Fargo. Another tough period of time for us. I tried to reconcile with my birth mother, and it didn't go so well. I was reeling from the rebuff, he was upset being so far away from home. Then Erflet pronounced his impending arrival. Not long after, our commission jobs failed us and we lost our apartment. We moved in with my grandparents before unceremoniously getting the boot in the form of my grandma paying the deposit and first month's rent for an apartment for us - even though I had to quit my job due to heavy weight lifting.

Stomach cramps during pregnancy - especially when lugging a 70 lb box - are never good.

So we were stuck in an apartment, me jobless, and Erf not working due to the lack of appointments in December. Erflet arrived, and things got worse. We fought all the time, I was a crazy bitch who was overly-protective of our son, he resented me for not giving him a chance.

The lack of sex couldn't have helped at all, though.

One day it seemed to snap us both; we needed to work this out. And slowly, we did. We put the effort and hard work into it, and we pushed through. We rekindled our love, and one night while talking decided it was time to finally make an honest woman out of him. ;)

On April 10, 2009 (Dude, we so got married on Good Friday. Getting married on the day Jesus was crucified = WIN), I became Mrs. Erf. And regardless of the hard times we're going through right now, we know that we can push through it together.

Baby, here's to us, 70 years from now, yelling at one another in utter deaf bliss. I'll love you even when you crap your pants and sprout hair long enough to be braided from your nose.

I even promise to dig on you when your glasses could double as a microscope.

I love you. :)

Yes, he is biting my shoulder. We're kinky like that.

Short post today

I'm not going to post a long blog today like I usually do. I'm feeling stabby, and my eyes hurt.

Why do my eyes hurt? Because I think I may need glasses. I don't wear them now, but I can feel the strain when I'm looking at the computer screen. I'm struggling to differentiate the words sometimes, especially when people don't use freaking paragraph breaks.

The bad news is that with Erf's recent demotion and our lack of Comfortable Income, I can't go up to the walk-in eye clinic and then take my prescription next door to Eye Mart and get new glasses in an hour. Cause I don't need stupid shit like Transitions or anti-glare lenses. Either way, It's $55 for the exam and $80+ for the frames alone... It cost us about $300 total when we got Erf's this spring, but he got Transitions.

And no, we don't have insurance. I'm hoping to get back on the Wisconsin BadgerCare bandwagon, but I'm waiting for Erf's first check without any salary days on it. And the bad news is that there's only one eye exam place that takes Badgercare around here, and Badgercare clients are last priority and have a special list that's usually a 3-month wait. And then another couple week wait for the glasses.

Anyone willing to pay $300 for new glasses so I don't go fucking crazy at work?

And work is making me stabby today. Mullet-ed attorney did some free checking into a matter for a client's friend, and she totally bitched at me because things weren't going exactly how SHE wanted them to go. Sorry, but it's not his responsibility to file this paperwork you're waiting for, so yes, you'll have to go to court until the opposing attorney files it. No need to call Mullet-ed attorney a 'horseshit attorney who apparently didn't fucking do anything for you'.

You didn't pay him. As an attorney friend of mine said very eloquently, "Pro bono work is great in theory. In theory."

I'm thinking of taking a Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday off so that I can have a few recoup days. I haven't had any days off since after the wedding in April... Even though we have half-day Fridays. What am I bitching for? I don't know. I'd just like some alone time, I guess.

My eyes are hurting... Off to listen to some music and be thankful that I don't have any computer work to do...

To my darling baby boy, Erflet...

Born in February of 2006, you are the piece of heart I never knew I was missing until you found me. I wasn't looking for you, but you found me anyhow.

Your father and I got the official news on June 20th, 2005. You certainly surprised us...

Rolling around to late 2005, your arrival was drawing nearer and nearer. Everyone kept telling me that once you were here, I would no longer have a life of my own. They were wrong, yet oh so right at the same time. I can still go out and do things, but you own my life. My heart is within you, walking around outside my body. I never knew how complete you would make me feel.

Daddy was away a lot after you were first born, and we stuck together through it. It was you and I for some time, and we developed a bond that I don't think could ever be broken. You're my little Gorgeous (regardless of how much grandma hates that nickname), and my sidekick.

You look like your father, but there is so much of me wrapped up in you. Your personality is almost a perfect reflection of mine, all the way down to the smart-ass remarks. I recall how much it annoyed my grandma when she was raising me, so I at least know what I'm getting into as you get older. ;)

And you're such a little love... You're almost four, and you still give random hugs and kisses for no reason. You love to cuddle with Daddy and I, and you're so affectionate. You can't go to bed without a lot of hugs and kisses, or let us drop you off at daycare without the same. When I put you to bed and sit next to you stroking your face and hair, I can feel that absolute love and trust that you have in me.

And baby boy, I promise to do everything in my power to keep earning that every day.

There are times when we're watching a movie, and you'll reach over and stroke my hair or my arm, or you'll simply put your hand in mine. I just want to hug you to me and hold you forever.

And the times you tell me you love me without me telling you first make my heart fly.

There are times when you'll wake up early from your nap and we'll lay on the couch, you sprawled out on top of me with your head resting atop my heart... And you'll fall asleep listening to Mama's heartbeat. If I could bottle up those sweet baby breaths to cherish later, when you get older and you're too cool for your Mama, I would. I hope that you'll never stop your random hugs, even if you do have to wait until no one else is around.

I hope I'll be a great Mama to you in years to come, because you've been the best son I could have ever thought to ask for. I will always love you no matter what the future holds. As Daddy always describes his relationship with his mama, there are unbreakable golden chains binding us.

And when you get older, get married, and have your own babies, know that when I hold my first grandchild I'll close my eyes and remember your sweet baby breaths on my neck as you slept.

Know that every time I look at you, I have no doubt that every moment of morning sickness, every second of labor, every sleepless night, every spit-up-on shirt, was worth it. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Know that when and if you ever get a baby brother or sister, you'll always have a special place in my heart as my firstborn. Daddy and I have had some hard times, and your love for the both of us helped us to remember the love we had for one another. You've made us all stronger in our love, and you're completely irresistible.

To put it in so many and so few words, I love you baby boy... I always will.

Because I'm sure most of you are just dying for this...

I realized that as much as I bitch about how Erflet looks nothing like me, I've never provided you all with photographic proof of said claims.

How terrible of me. *slaps self mockingly* Bad llama.

So, here it is: photographic proof that we look almost nothing alike.

Yeah, check out my giant Jew-schnoz. Ohhh yeah. Bom bom, chick, chicka-chicka.

However, there's no denying he's got one obvious feature of mine. Can you guess?

Yes, he's dressed up as Batman. This was Halloween 2007. I was dressed up as Bahamas Barbie.

Don't pretend you're not m'er-effing jealous. My costume rocked, because I bought the outfit in the Bahamas back in 2003. It says Bahamas all over it.

By the way; the baby blues? He's 5th generation. I, my dad, my grandma, and my great-grandpa all had the baby blues. Can you tell it's a dominant gene in my family? My sister, Katie, has them as well; but hers are pure blue. Erflet and I have flecks of hazel in ours.

See? Okay, so the flash brings out the white flecks more than the hazel. Look above the pupil. :)

Seriously, this is one of my all-time favorite pics of myself.

I'm so self-absorbed.

Watching Evil Dead pre-bedtime was not the best idea I've ever had...

So, if you've never seen Evil Dead, it's this cheesy 80's horror flick about this group of 5 teenagers/young adults who rent a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere. What could go wrong with that? I mean, come on. The bridge you crossed only lost a shitload of boards, but hey, who needs to drive our retro-mobile back over to the other side of the bridge? We have a cabin to ourselves!

So, tellingly, they find a mysterious book with Satanic-esque drawings and a tape recorder. But, it's one of those giant ones with two big wheels - like you'd see in a recording studio. They haul it up out of the basement and begin listening to the tape. It's this guy talking about flesh-possessing demons who lay dormant but never truly die. And then, like the fucktard he is, he records the incantation that resurrects these havoc-loving, cataract-sporting, never-gonna-die buggers. The kids, being douchebags, listen to the incantation. Demons are resurrected and begin possessing said Douche Bags. Gore ensues.

My mind and my brain were watching this movie in separate modes, apparently. My mind was slowly turning into a giant cooch, and was becoming more and more afraid of said demons. My brain was slapping my mind upside the head going, "You giant cooch, this movie is so fucking stupid and it's not even scary."

Cause really, it was cheesy 80's horror. It wasn't scary. But I'll be damned if my mind wasn't as convinced as I was.

Being the brain-iac that I am, I decide watching outtakes is a fabulous idea. Something funny to take my Giant Cooch mind off the Super Scary. Nope, just gives my Giant Cooch mind a yeast infection.

Because now, my darlings, I am pretty terrified. And I know it's irrational. I know that there's nothing out there, waiting to possess my flesh and spew green creamed corn at me. (Cause I looked up the trivia on IMDb - the guts were made out of green-dyed cream corn) But I've always had this irrational phobia. I don't like walking down pitch-black hallways, not knowing what lies ahead. I don't swim in lakes - EVER - unless I can see what's underneath me. Because, my pets, I will break out into the shakes. No lie. I'll pee the lake, and I'll freak the fuck out.

Don't look at me like that. Find me someone who HASN'T peed in a lake and I'll give you a liar.

So, because Erf is taking a shower, I have to make the bed. I'm not even lying when I tell you that I was bent over at the waist, trying to keep my feet as far away from the under-bed as possible. I walked over to my side of the bed, broke out in the shakes, and jumped up onto the bed. Shaking.

Yes, I am a huge, huge pussy.

The tale does not end there. Erf was having a grand old time laughing at me. Because he and my brain? Totally on the same wavelength. "It was just a movie, it wasn't even scary."

Except the Giant Cooch had me incapacitated. Evil mind. It was fucking with me.

I'm laying in bed, eyes darting about, with the light on. I'm 24 years old with a 3 1/2 year old son, and I'm scared to turn off the light. I am ashamed, even as I type this. Erf suggestively says, "Hey, I've got a boner. Why don't you come over here and I'll distract you?"

I'm irrationally terrified, and you think bumping uglies is the solution? I know someone who can help you. Her name is Rosy Palms. Distract that.

I turn out the light (because I have to pretend I'm not a giant quivering quim) and try falling asleep. Giant Cooch just laughs at me.

I hallucinate my dreams. I'm awake enough to be aware of my surroundings, but I see things that aren't there until I fully wake up. I once woke Erf up because I was convinced there was a box on the wall of our old apartment that was spewing out spiders. He was not happy. I'm weird.

So, of course, every half hour or so last night I would wake up to see the un-dead ready to possess my flesh. Lots of fun. I'm so motherfucking sleepy. Today, I'm fine. I could watch that film and laugh at it. Kind of like Ghost Ship - I had a similar experience with that flick, except I wasn't afraid of it until I had a halluci-dream that my family members were all in my room, dead and decayed, trying to murder me to harvest my soul.

I'm so fucked up. If you want to pretend you no longer know me, I'll understand...

By special request...

Because I've had a few comments on the adorability of Erflet's nickname and the fact that he looks like Erf squeezed him out of his ass by himself with NO HELP FROM ME WHATSOEVER... I decided to provide you with a short post.

To post photos.

To prove that Erflet, he looks like his daddy.

Also, because my sexy bitch friend Megan wanted proof. :)

See, I told you so. Need further proof?

They both have a ridiculously adorable 'Joker' grin. Their mouths actually have an upward curve at the outside when they smile, making them look all Jack Nicholson-ish.

Looks like Erf popped him out of his ass, doesn't it? :)

And one more stitch for the husband...

Okay, so, seriously.

I am so sick and tired of all these headlines EVERY. FUCKING. WHERE. about Jon and Kate.

Don't get me wrong. This girl enjoys juicy headlines just as much as the next person with a vagina and a gossip button. Angelina caught Brad having sex with the nanny? Dr. Phil has a sex scandal? Tom and Katie are on the outs?

Bring it on. I enjoy celeb gossip when it's just tabloid gossip. You don't really believe that Oprah is really an alien, do you? No, but it's still fun to read about. What was that green glow around her anyhow?...

As Sean Connery's character William Forrester says in the film Finding Forrester, "The Times I read for dinner. But this {The National Enquirer}, this is my dessert."

Now that we've cleared up that I don't mind tabloid dramz, I do mind this whole Jon and Kate thing. I never watched Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Never appealed to me. Whatever, no big deal. Not every person likes every TV show.

Then, the dramz began creeping it's way ever-so-steadily onto the tabloid covers. "Jon caught having an affair!" "Kate beats her kids!" Whatever. It's the shit they're slinging at each other that's got me pissed off.

Nope, I haven't read the articles, but the headlines and the Entertainment Tonight clips give me enough to put a bad taste in my mouth. Do you people not realize that all your dirty laundry is being aired in public? I'm sure that despite all your fuckup-edness, your kids will grow up to be at least functionable human beings, if not pretty smart kids. They'll know how to use the internet. They will see all your self-centered, narcissistic, money-hungry actions that they don't see at home.

You are not a normal couple having it out in the confines of a courtroom, arguing over whether he gets the frequent flier miles or you do because he earned them flying to Denver to meet his whore. Keep it civilized, douche bags. It's called poise and being an adult.

Plus, I'm sure that regardless of your current asshat factor, you do love your kids. I'm also pretty sure that once upon a time you didn't plan on having kids specifically to put them on a TV show. So act like parents, suck your shit up, and fight it out in court. Quit trying to make the general public feel sorry for you. We do, but it's because we pity you.

Damn mommy programming, making me all pissed off at irresponsible parenting. There used to be a time that I, too, looked scornfully upon crying infants in grocery stores and in malls. I used to go out for long, leisurely dinners to restaurants people rarely bring children to. And I used to go grocery shopping at 2 am because a) I could, and b) there was a slim chance of lines or children at that time of night.

UTERUS, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?! You bitch! You turned me into this sympathetic mom... *sigh* I guess I just have to embrace it. Shit.

Also, I'd like to say that Erf needs to stop fantasizing about moving to Kansas. I am not an adorable-cheeked gingham-wearing girl with braids. I do not do heat well. I went to Florida in February (FEBRUARY!) one time, and it was too hot for me.

It gets above 85 and I turn into Super Bitch. I make Kyle's Mom look like Mary Freaking Poppins. And everyone knows that Kyle's Mom is a bitch. She's a big, fat bitch. She's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world, she's a bitch to all the boys and girls.

And Erf's uncle lives in Kansas. And keeps taunting Erf with magical phrases like, "nice apartments" and "good-paying jobs"... Damn you. Fucking Kansas being all taunt-y to Erf. Bah.

Because I love you, because I care, here's a PSA about popcorn.

No this isn't some stupid PSA with starving Ethiopian children running around with their ribs sticking out, or with oriental kids with cleft palates.

Don't worry, lovers, I wouldn't depress you like that. Cause starving children and kids with sad, broken faces? They make me cry. I feel bad for them, I do, but when I'm worrying about how to afford to feed my own child? Not as concerned with the kids in 3rd world countries.

Whoa, what the hell? I'm here to tell you about popcorn.

More specifically, popcorn burn. From the kernel.

I had a stroke of brilliance yesterday. I decided to say fuck the food pyramid, I want homemade stove top popcorn for dinner. Not that I don't give the food pyramid a big F U every day anyway, but whatever.

I put my awesome pot on the burner, put in some veggie oil, popcorn kernels, and put the top on. Turn the heat on. Shake it up so the kernels don't burn. I got mad popcorn skillz, yo.

Popcorn begins popping. Erflet is fascinated. It gets to the top, so I take it off the stove, pour some in the bowl, and set the pot back on the burner. I'm not an idiot. I know popcorn keeps popping after you take it off the stove. A few kernels popped out of the bowl, no big. Erflet threw them out like a good helper.

The popping begins to slow, so I take the pot off the burner. I take off the top, and pour the remainder in the bowl. A few kernels pop, no big.

Then an un-popped, burning kernel jumped from the bowl, and down my bra. Right down my fucking cleavage.

My breasts are irresistible, even to food.

Here, my friends, are photos I took of my cleavage (Yes, my bewbs, they're on the internets!) about 45 minutes after said burn:

You can see the trail it left down my bosom. Where it hopped on my left bewb and that big spot where it rested at the bottom of my underwire.

Close-up of the resting place. I still have a burn spot this morning.

Who wants to rub burn cream on my cleavage?!

You know you wanna. ;)

Oh, um, the PSA part!

Leave the top on until the popping of the kernels stops. Otherwise you too may get burned.

See, you thought I was just gonna stop at the bewbs! Ha!

Dun, duh da dah! Food porn!

I know, I know... I haven't posted food porn in quite some time, but this is the first real order I've had. There will be more food porn coming soon, I have a big order coming up for October 17th... Two pies, two dozen cookies and another Double Chocolate torte - but orange this time!

Before I commence with the drool-worthyness that is my food porn, I have a few rants to go on about. Don't worry, it's nothing too full of The Sewious.

Numero Uno. Why is it that old women who bathe in that baby powder/bug spray/musk perfume always move in gaggles and always climb on elevators in threes? Seriously, I get it. You're thinking that the Avon perfume is all full of The Awesome. Really, we're in 2009, not 1909. Get a new perfume.

Numero Dos. We have two main elevators and a service elevator in our 8-floor building. The two main elevator banks have been out 'For Repairs' for almost three weeks now. Can I even relay to you how annoying it is to pinch your cheeks walking down the stairs because the elevator takes FOREVER? Building Owner: FIX THE FUCKING ELEVATORS. SOON. Kthxbai.

Numero Tres. The phone. It needs to stop motherfucking ringing. Seriously, people. I've put 7 messages in the box for the Mulletted One in the last 10 minutes. SHUT UP.

Numero Quattro. I really don't like being asked random stupid law questions. I'm a fucking receptionist, not the attorney. I don't know if that pot plant you own in Brazil is really illegal or not, nor do I care. Call during business hours, I'll be happy to take a message. Or maybe I'll be happy to take some Percocet. Yeah, pretty sure it's the latter.

Okay, on to the food porn!

I had an order for Raspberry Chiffon pie. Three of them, to be exact. They are, well... Very pretty to say the least. :)

You begin with 12 oz of frozen raspberries for each pie. Yep, 36 oz of frozen raspberries. You warm them until they being sweating their juices (ooh, dirty!), add pectin and sugar, and sieve it.

Yeah, that was a HUGE pain in my ass. I can't get all the seeds out of my sieve. Will have to soak.

You take a baked pie shell (yes, I make mine from scratch)...

and once the jelly is cooled to room temp you fold in fresh raspberries. Then you fill the bottom of the shell with the mixture. Mmm, glisteningly pretty homemade jelly...

Pretty, pretty pink chiffon layer... Raspberry jelly, raspberry gelatin, cream cheese, and heavy whipping cream. It looks like one of the pies in the end segment of Waitress, doesn't it?

BTW, if you haven't seen Waitress, go rent it. I fucking love that movie. It has Nathan Fillion in it!

Then, to top it off (literally) homemade vanilla whipped cream frosting. Because sweetened whipped cream doesn't hold it's form when piped, you make frosting with it instead. Intriguing, no? And for good measure, a garnish of a fresh raspberry. Gotta break up the monotony of the white. :)

Voila. May I hand you a tissue or perhaps a mop for the drool?

Dirty quickie.

I was reading a post by Mommy Brained and was reminded of this story that I had to tell you all before I forget and have to leave work for the weekend.

Back in 2004-2005, pre-Erflet, Erf and I were strolling around our local Target. We were roaming the toy aisle due to my obsession with Barbies and Erf's obsession with... toys.

Some Star Wars flick had just come out and they had half an aisle dedicated the damned toys... But one toy will stick with me.

Fortune-telling Yoda. He looked kinda like this.

We, being mature Ah-Dults asked him all sorts of stupid questions.

Then, I had a stroke of sheer brilliance, similar to the stroke of brilliance I had when I bought our remote-control fart machine.

Yes, we had one. No, we don't have it anymore. I'll get to that later.

I asked Yoda, "Does Erf have a big penis?" (Not that I didn't already know. I was an Ah-Dult.)

Yoda, calmly and cooly, responds:

"Do not think; feel. Use the force you will."

I was on the floor laughing within 1/27th of a second.

Now, as for the fart machine... I bought it for both of us, and we attended a movie with a friend of ours and her boyfriend. I took the machine into the restroom so we could test it through walls.

Sure as shit, it did. I was in the restroom laughing while I peed, and my pocket was farting. It was fabulous.

Then, they set it off right as we walked past concessions. It was the loudest one EVER. And it was unquestionably funny, because all the employees were laughing at me.

I've also walked around the mall with it in my back pocket, and given someone else the remote. It's funny to walk through higher end retailers and watch the stuck-up snobs buying their Lancome and Estee Lauder react to my fart machine.

Then one day around 4 am, we woke up to farting noises. Constant, streaming farting. Either the fart machine was going off or Erf had something really wrong with him.

Nope. The fart machine was POSSESSED. We hit the off button repeatedly, nothing. It just kept going and going. It was the Energizer Bunny of Fart Machines!!!

We finally took the batteries out because... Obviously. It was 4 am, and we had just gone to bed two hours beforehand. Fuckin' fart machine.

In which I sit in my office, singing to Phantom Of The Opera.

I'm not a horrible singer, mind you, but I'm not Emmy Rossum... Fo' Sho'.

I do better with the likes of Kelly Clarkson, Christina Aguliera and RENT songs.

I live up north in Wisconsin. In a town next to the lake. (Lake Superior, for you morons who don't know what lake borders northern Wisconsin) I can literally look out my office window and see the lake. It's super choppy because it's windy, and motherfucking cold. And it looks brown, which probably means something fancy... Like that there's a giant spoon and God is stirring up the lake like settled hot cocoa. Or there's a strong current. Either way, I don't wanna swim in murky lake-water. Yuck.

So anyway, it was also cold yesterday and last night... So I brought my fan/heater home to warm our hearts and our bodies, because our heat is included in our rent. And that means that there's a pretty locked plastic box surrounding the thermostat. So I set up heaters in our room and Erflet's, (don't worry, they have automatic tip turn-off and they're energy efficient, and I only set Erflet's so high on low power to keep it from overheating him) and when it was time for Erf and I to go to bed, he climbs under the covers and tells me that it's still cold.

It was probably 40 yesterday, windy, and raining sporadically (try and use it in a sentence today - 5 points if you guess the flick!) and I wore a skirt, 3/4 sleeve shirt and no jacket. I don't mind cold. I embrace it. And the more blankies I can snuggle under (it's not unusual to find me under two comforters in the winter), the better I sleep. Erf sleeps better when it's warmer outside. You see where this is going? This was (not verbatim) our conversation after his 'cold' comment:

Me: "You're like a friggin polar bear."

Him: "Are you calling me fat?" (No lie)

M: "No, but you're always cold. And polar bears live in the cold, so they're always cold. So you're like a polar bear."

H: "No, polar bears have fur and fat, and I'm not fat, and they're always warm."

M: "Alright, fine. You're like... a... uh... Giant squid. They live at the bottom of the ocean and they're cold blooded (no idea, really, but he didn't know either), so you're a giant squid. Always cold. I hope you don't get eaten by a whale."

H: "Ooookay."

Later on as we were settling down to sleep, he was on his back. I had been using his arm for a pillow but he made me stop because his arm was falling asleep or some other pussy shit. I turned onto my side and was about to cuddle up to his side with my back to him, then he turns on his side away from me (not a scorn, it's just the side he prefers to sleep on). So I just snuggle against him, back to back, butt to butt.

He stretched, and I thought he was gonna fart on me.

I asked him if he was gonna fart on me.

He said no, he didn't have to fart. But that it would be really funny to fart into my buttcrack, and he wondered what sound it would make.

I then asked, "What do you think would happen if you took two people, had them spread their asscheeks, and put them butthole-to-butthole... And fart at the same time. What do you think would happen?"

He said, "I don't think their buttholes would touch that way."

I replied, "Well, what if one was on their side and the other was the regular way, and you fit them together like puzzle pieces?"

He said, "I think it would sound funny."

And then we went to sleep.

Now I'm singing along with Time Warp...

It's the pelvic thru-u-ust, it really drives you insa-a-a-a-ane...

I went up to Michael's last night to purchase some pie boxes for an order I have for Monday and a large tip coupler... Because it'll make my life easier. I also had to go to Cub (grocery store) to buy some things for dinner, so I thought, "I'll grab my ingredients while I'm here!"

I'm making three pies, and this was my shopping list:

36 oz. frozen raspberries (about $4.50 for one 12 oz package)

9 Tablespoons dried pectin ($2.50)

3 cups fresh raspberries (on sale 2 for $5 for those small plastic packages. I bought 4 just in case)

9 Tablespoons raspberry gelatin mix (about $1)

9 oz. cream cheese (blocks are only 8 oz, luckily they had small 3 oz packages) ($1 per package)

6 3/4 cups heavy whipping cream ($4.60 per quart; I bought 2)

Sugar and shortening (About $5)

Yeah, I totally spent around $45 on ingredients. FOR THREE PIES. I'm charging $45. The raspberries alone cost almost $30. I'm not making any profit; basically making the pies for free.

Fuck. My. Life.

*sigh* I didn't think frozen raspberries were so goddamn expensive!

Ahh, Kelly. My Life Would Suck Without You. Just the song I needed. :)