I smell like a goddamn fruit basket.

Let me explain.

I was taking a shower the other night, as I'm sometimes wont to do, when I realized that it was my monthly duty to use some type of soap product.

(Usually, I just wash my hair, and then let the soap clean me off via gravitational pull as it drains down my body towards the sperm-clogged drain (hey...first things first))

I looked down at the soap dish in the shower (after five minutes of trying to remember where it was), and saw a simple, sad, soap-Chiclet sitting there.

I got hit in the nuts yesterday.  It was pretty painful.  Earlier I wrote about how that kind of thing is funny .  It's not.

It actually hurts pretty damn bad.

In fact, my boys still hurt at this moment. 

There are so, so many things I enjoy about being a mother, especially now that my children are getting older. Long gone are the sleepless nights. My kids can feed themselves, walk by themselves, and are even learning to cook. Being a mother of twins, I didn't exactly look forward to them being older, but I do take it as a welcome respite from the land of bulky upper arm muscles (have YOU ever tried to carry two infants at once?) and formula stained shoulders and smelling vaguely like puke and formula and despair.

In fact, the thing that really sucks about being a parent now?

The other parents.

A couple weeks ago, the illustrious Hannah Montana made an appearance at our fair Coliseum.  Every teenage girl within spitting distance attended.  But it wasn't Hannah who grabbed the headlines, it was the Coliseum management.

From the way the write-up in the paper read, Coliseum officials broke every moral law known to man.  They offended good god-fearing people by pulling a stunt only worthy of the most unscrupulous of humans.

They served beer. 

"Beep.  Beeeep.  I said BEEP, dammit!"  And with that, I was rudely awakened in the middle of the night.

I was sleeping, which is in no way the same as being asleep.  It sounds the same?  No, it’s not.  Is f***ing the same as being f***ed?  Didn’t think so.  Sleeping is an active thing, a thing to be enjoyed and taken seriously, while being asleep is something anybody can do.

My mother’s middle name is Victoria. My middle name is Victoria. When and if I have a daughter – from my mouth to God’s ear - I want to name her Isabella Victoria. It’s a nice, normal name but still not a common name. If you already have kids, did you have a hard time thinking of a name? If you don’t have kids yet, do you already have a name picked out and ready for when and if you do have kids? I realize it’s more of a girl thing, but work with me here. 

I'm not that picky.

No, I'm not talking about my penchant for cheap, ugly whores.

I'm talking about my coffee.

I was listening to the radio the other day, when a coffee commercial came on. 

One of the jackasses getting paid more money than I do to talk about a F*CKING BEVERAGE said:

"..it means I like 100% Arabica bean coffee."

I have a friend that smells.  He smells bad.  Real bad.  We all have had one of these friends at some time in our lives.  One of those friends that really stinks.  They're our Stinky Friend.

My Stinky Friend doesn't shower.  I don't know why.  Maybe he's afraid of water.  Maybe it's afraid of him.