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August 2, 2011

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Miscarriages, Insanity, & Chocolate Cake

July 28, 2011

Baaaah, the last few days have been a little hectic.  My sister-in-law lost her baby; she was about 10ish weeks along.  Somewhere around there.  It kept me up late at night just thinking about it.  I just felt so sad for her.  I remember when an OB told me that Piggie Smalls didn’t exist…that was really cute.  They thought I had to be AT LEAST 6 weeks along according to my LMP, even though I told them my cycles are every 6 weeks, not 4!  Well they did an abdominal ultrasound like idiots and saw nothing but a gestational sac.  The lady said “I don’t see a baby in there” and I sat straight up on the table in a god damn panic.  Then they sent me to another room and when the doc finally came in she told me I probably had a blighted ovum, which is an empty gestational sac.  No baby.  Told me I should start thinking about a D&C.  I cried…she put her forehead against mine and told me to hang in there.  Fuckin retards.

I never went back for more of their blood tests because I felt they were wrong deep down in my maternal soul!!!  And a few weeks later we could hear Piggie Smalls’ heartbeat.  It just sucked cause they ruined the first few weeks of my pregnancy by scaring the shit out of me.  I had nightmares and would wake up clutching my stomach, thinking I had lost the baby.  It was so fucked up.

My SIL desperately wanted her story to go as mine had, but she told me she had bled a lot, and I had to tell her I never bled.  So even though I never miscarried, I will never forget the overwhelming sadness that I felt that day they told me there was no baby inside me.  I felt that way for several weeks actually, cause it turned out I was only 4 weeks along at that time, so I had to wait a while before the midwife could pick up his heartbeat on the doppler.  Yeah, I said fuck conventional OB’s right now, get me a crunchy ass, granola tree-huggin midwife STAT.  Thank God I found her.

Piggie Smalls fought sleep for 2 freakin hours tonight and made me want to laugh-cry there at the end.  I couldn’t take anymore.  I made a huge chocolate cake earlier, so I’m going to go eat that now and lay lifelessly on my couch like a vegetable until my husband gets home.  Such a hot mess I am.


A Birth Healing Blessing

July 26, 2011

My sister-in-law lost her baby today.  I’m posting this in honor of her and for all the other mamas out there who are going through the same grief.

Blessed sister, beautiful one
with broken wings.
Your journey is a difficult one
that no mother should have to endure.
Your path is steep, rocky and slippery
and your tender heart is in need of gentle healing.

Breathe deeply and know that you are loved.
You are not alone,
though at times, you will feel like a
desolate island of grief
Close your eyes.
Seek the wisdom of women who have walked this well-worn path before you,
and before,
and before you yourself were born.
These beautiful ones
with eyes like yours
have shared your pain, and
weathered the storms of loss.

You are not alone (breathe in)
You will go on (breathe out)
Your wings will mend (breathe in)
You are loved (breathe out)
~ Mary Burgess

Summer’s Eve Can Kiss My Dirty Vagina

July 26, 2011

Summer’s Eve, how are you still even in business?  Ladies, our vaginas have spoken and they’re begging us to wash them with Summer’s Eve because ya know, normal soap just ain’t gonna cut it for that filthy thing.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the new Summer’s Eve commercials…the ones that use hand puppets that are supposed to be our vaginas talking to us…begging us to wash them?  Asking for “just a little love for your vertical smile”.  Are you fucking kidding me?

Here’s some for your viewing entertainment.  Try just to laugh and avoid puking or getting violent if you can.


For you Black ladies there, here’s what your vagina says:


And no, they didn’t forget about you spicy little Latinas, (your vaginas have accents, ha.ha.ha)


Apparently our vaginas say we need to be sidekicks, and that we’re ignoring them.  All they’re asking for is just 10 extra seconds in the shower.  BAD VAGINA OWNERS!  And if we hit the gym, all they want is to be wiped with Summer’s Eve cleansing cloths…that’s it!  Nothing more!  Yeahhhh, cause if I had just worked out at the gym and I’m sweaty all over…the only thing I would care about is making sure my vag smells like flowers in case someone wants to put their nose up in it.

Summer’s Eve and products like theirs have always been insulting and dangerous to women.  As much as Summer’s Eve wants to make us believe that our vaginas are filthy and always in danger of offending others…the truth is that the vagina is a powerful self-cleaning machine that doesn’t need Summer’s Eve’s assistance fucking up what it’s already doing very, very well on it own, thankyouverymuch.  Soap and water do the trick, on the OUTSIDE.  No need at all to even clean the vagina (aka vaginal canal), which is the INSIDE.  (Summer’s Eve needs to get their damn terminology straight first off).  The fact is, douching or cleaning your vagina with products that claim to correct the pH balance or “flush out” the vagina is really only going to leave you with an infection.

Why are there no butt douches?  I mean, aren’t anuses dirtier than vaginas?  Well, if that were up to Summer’s Eve I’m sure they would say that’s debatable, cause they’re in the business of some dirty, stank vaginas.  But seriously, anuses have e-coli, and there are no products on the market that say we need to squirt chemicals up our butts to clean it out.  But I’ll tell you why it’s the vagina that’s constantly under siege.  Because women are already beaten down by a culture that only values them for their appearance.  We’re led to believe that we need assistance to be beautiful.  We believe we need surgery to fix our bodies and faces.  And even our vaginas.  How could we not?  Everywhere around us we are constantly being told that we’re not good enough “as is” by the media and beauty industry.  How many countless commercials or ads do you see a day promoting a product that promises to change a woman’s appearance?

And let’s just put this out on the table while we’re at it…men’s balls don’t smell like a bouquet of fresh roses.  So why are there no ball wipes in the aisles for guys?  I mean, if women should smell like fresh rain or strawberries down there, shouldn’t men?

It makes me mad.  It frustrates me.  It insults me.  But Summer’s Eve: you will NEVER get a penny from me.  You will never get a penny from any of my offspring because you better believe they will be educated to know what you really are, which is just a pathetic gimmick that attacks the self-worth of women who are just fine they way they are.

Awkward Lunch Date

July 22, 2011

Today I had a lunch date and it was awkwaaaaaard.  The kind of scenario that makes you talk out your ass just to make yourself feel more comfortable and to pretend you’re not awkwardized by what’s going down.

I meet up with this mom at Olive Garden.  She has a 2.5 year old.  That was probably our first mistake.  No whiny, annoying, hyper toddler belongs in a sit down restaurant.  I get to the table where she’s waiting for me and Piggie Smalls and I see that the kid has all his toy cars spread out on the table and he’s trying to convince Mom to let him out of the booth.

I sit down and put Piggie Smalls on my lap.  He starts immediately trying to grab a glass of water and continues to be fascinated with any cold or hot item on the table for pretty much the rest of the time we’re there.

Lmao…just remembering the awkwardness of this lunch is still making me giggle to myself.  This two year old, of course, starts actin’ a fool as all toddlers do.  At first we’re both able to ignore him pretty well.  He’s eating the top part of his bread sticks and talking to the wall and will yell something out every now and then or try and scoot past his mom.  It’s cool, we’re handling it.

Then he starts getting a little louder.  Mom tells him to “NO” and “BE QUIET”.  I look down at Piggie Smalls and pretend he summoned my attention or something.  He looks at me like “What?” and continues to try and dip his fingers in my soup or grab my water glass.  We resume talking.  The toddler attempts escape by pretending he wants a hug from Mom, but she’s on to his antics and after hugging him, sets him back on his side of the booth.  He doesn’t like this, so he yells a little bit.  She raises her voice back, saying his name threateningly.  He lays over on her and she asks him if he wants a spanking right there.  I thought she was kidding so I laugh…and then she actually, angrily, hit him on the ass twice with some force.


He keeps it up.  She asks if he wants to go to the bathroom and have his pants pulled down and get spanked on the butt.  He smiles and says “Yes”.  So she says “Excuse us”, scoops him up and walks away.

That was pretty funny, but I’m kind of desperate for her to get back so we can finish this up, it’s just starting to feel weird.  Well when they get back he’s no better.  Actually he’s more defiant and stands up in his seat.  She grabs him hard and tries to sit him down, and this is when things got truly awkward.  I was a little taken aback by how she grabbed him and caught myself staring, so I put my head down and ate my soup (which sucked cause I was out of potato chunks and I hate eating just sausage, bleh!).  But a second later he’s standing back up, except now he screams to piss her off.  So she slaps him across the face!!!  Piggie Smalls has stopped his incessant attempts at grabbing my water and he’s staring with his baby mouth open and his eyes fixated on the two of them, watching the fiasco unfold before him.  The slap only causes the toddler to get his feelings hurt, so he starts crying.  The mom grabs him roughly again and puts him on her lap and covers his mouth with her hand while threatening more spankings.

And this is how our lunch date ended.  Oh wait, I forgot.  That’s not how it ended.  I interrupted them and told the mom she needed to hold Piggie Smalls to feel how solid he was.  This gave the toddler a chance to escape, crawl under my chair, and take a dump.  That’s how it ended.

French Bread Pizza

July 20, 2011

This is a really easy recipe where you pretty much choose whatever you want as your topping, just like you do with pizza.  Except this is even EASIER (cause if you’re like me and usually make  your own pizza dough) all you have to do is buy the french loaf at the bakery and there ya have it people.  For mine, I took my loaf and cut it in half and then cut it down the middle, so I had 4 pieces total.  I drizzled the top of the bread with olive oil, spread on my store bought sauce,  and covered them with mozzarella cheese.  I stopped there for my two, cause I’m a cheese-only kinda girl.  For my husband’s, I sauteed mushrooms and ham, caramelized some onion and cut up a roma tomato (cutting out the inside).  I topped all that on his two slices, then I sprinkled (okay I doused) parmesan cheese on all four slices.  I put these on a baking sheet and baked them @ 425 degrees for 15 minutes.  So GOOD!

Sauteing my mushrooms


I believe in lots of cheese



I simultaneously provided Piggie Smalls his teething fix every so often

Oh yeah baby, come to mama!




Oven-Fried Drumsticks

July 19, 2011

I’m from the South, so I have the itch for some good ol’ fried chicken every now and then.  Once a week is every now and then for me.  The only thing was that I’ve never liked the process of frying chicken, it takes a long time and when it’s deep fried, you just really don’t feel good eating it.  I was freakin amazed when I tried this recipe that says you bake it…I was like “yeah right, that’s not real fried chicken”.  And no I guess it’s technically NOT, but it tastes JUST LIKE IT.  Really the best part is that I just throw a bunch of spices and flour into a bag and shake my chicken in it and then throw it in the oven for 30 minutes.  Cause Piggie Smalls gets an attitude around 3pm and becomes a real pill if I spend too much time doing anything else besides catering to his every whim.


Oven-Fried Drumsticks

Servings: 5
Cooking Time: 30 minutes


  • 1/4 cup vegetable or olive oil
  • 1/2 cup flour
  • 1 tablespoon paprika
  • 2 teaspoons Creole seasoning (or Cajun)
  • 1 teaspoon seasoned salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
  • 10 chicken legs


  1. Preheat oven to 450°F. Pour vegetable oil evenly over bottom of a 13 x 9-inch baking dish.
  2. Combine flour, paprika, Creole seasoning, seasoned salt, garlic powder, Italian seasoning and black pepper in a large bowl and mix well. Pour into a paper bag.
  3. Add chicken pieces, a few at a time, to flour mixture and shake to coat. Arrange in baking dish.

Bake chicken, turning once, until juices run clear, about 30 minutes. Transfer to a serving dish. Serve immediately.

I just want to first say that I am obsessed with this garlic salt.  I saw my FIL use it on his grilled chicken the other day and I’ve been putting it on everything ever since.  For the potatoes I made, I just washed and pricked them, drizzled them with olive oil and sprinkled this garlic salt on all sides.  Zapped em in the microwave for 6-8 min, cut them open and put butter inside. MMMMMMMMMMMMM!  Okay moving on…

The chicken just comes out so perfect every single time I do this recipe.  It’s like KFC’s Original style fried chicken, but of course way better.

Call me white trash, I don’t care, this is actually a PERFECT meal in my eyes.  It’s lacking in something fresh and light, like a salad, but for all purposes of satisfying my starvation for comfort food, this just does it for me.
See all the little specks of spices….sooooo much flavor!
I tried to get a shot of all the buttery/olive oil goodness going on in my plate.  The seasoned skin on the potato just lingers on your lips and oh my god!!!  So simple but so divine!
You CAN NOT have fried chicken without sweet tea!  I make some of the best sweet tea…I’ll have to post how to do that.  Cause as simple as it is, so many people get it wrong WRONG…WROOOONG.
Notice the greasy fingerprints on the glass…oh yeahhhhh!
I had to go recover after this meal.  Piggie Smalls watched in fascination as I crammed this food into my mouth like a wild beast.  You know when you eat too fast or too much and your esophagus can’t even keep up and your chest just hurts while the food tries to make it way down?  That was me eating this.  I just couldn’t learn my lesson.

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