ive learned the secret to holiday weight gain. if youre gonna put on a little insulation, it better be damn good and worth it.

so in that case, make mine a hugh jackman and orlando bloom sandwich. supersized.

holiday dos and donts

- DO NOT use the word 'syphilis' in the presence of certain company. some people are sophisticated and proper. we are not. and by we, i totally mean angie.

-DO buy me a molten chocolate cake from chilis. and quote lines from kung pow while we share it. i am lings father, wio-wio-wii

- DO NOT burp in the confined, closed space of my car. yes, that terrible face i made was because it smelled rotten. oh, and the laughing, that didnt help. and the farting, well you can just stop that now.

- DO search every store within a 50 mile radius for the 4th ninja turtle. your child is worth it. especially when they tell you its okay you still didnt find it because "rafael will find us ma".

- DO NOT make me wait outside the bathroom at our family christmas party for a half hour so you can give me a play-by-play on your pooping status. there are some things even your mother doesnt need to know. like the fact that it was similar to a taco.

- DO buy me a fleece hat with horns so my son can call me a 'biking' and all the boys in his class jump up and down and call me a moose.

- DO NOT be a wiseass when i buy your child a black babydoll for christmas. i know you grew up sheltered and all, but no, it was not "barry bonds kid". although, i am still saddened that the name 'clitoris' was vetoed. she woulda made a good clitoris.

- DO move your head when i swing a TMNT dvd at your head. because i will hit you, and you will deserve it. turtle power.

- DO NOT playfully bash your kids face into the checkout counter at best buy. because the shrill wails of pain take it from playful, to not so much.

- DO buy yourself some "office max earrings". because everyone needs a pair of fancy earrings. and lets face it, round these here parts, going to office max is a treat.

dear anj,

god im glad youre home. with that said, i need to upfront make my apologies for this. for its content and for not telling you directly. but to be honest, i get kinda weepy everytime you scrunch up your face like that and cry. i dont like being the one to make your face do that. and not including the wooden apple incident, i try to never do anything to cause you sadness or pain. i am your sister. in my job description it says that i should listen and be compassionate regardless of my personal opinion on any given situation. however, i am your sister. the sister that never was much good at keeping quiet. above all, i love you.

however. you stated on more than one occasion that you didnt want christmas and you didnt want to come home because youd have to do it alone. that this year, you would be without the other half you came to know. now i realize that youre just incredibly sad and that you need to go through your time to mourn. everyone deserves thier time. i also know that you really wanted to come home, but maybe you just hoped it would be under different circumstances. that you would have a companion in your travels. but you dont. and like it or not, christmas is still coming. you know as well as i do that when you walk through this front door, christmas takes over and puts you in a choke hold. theres no way around it, you just have to find a way to embrace it. its not going anywhere. you have spent 28 christmas' with this family, and only 1 with him. im not trying to minimize your pain or emotions. but we are your family. we are here to help you remember and help you forget. to help you go on. to help you understand that while this is probably the hardest time, that this is the time to keep going. weve been there. ive been there. youre not the only one that has had to make revisions in the way you see the future. thats how life goes. you fall down and get back up. brush yourself off and keep moving. and so help me santa, i will drag your ass through this holiday if i have to. youre here. were with you. nothing, including the touch of a man, can replace your family for christmas.

so, here, drink this cup of baileys and cocoa (or four) until you feel better. because damnit, i dont like telling you these things but you need to buck up and put some party shoes on. cause weve got big plans. big big plans. so if youre ready, ill be waiting at victorias secret. hurry, and bring your jubblies along.

i love you.
kate.

happy holidays and good will towards men (except those of you men that i would consider a complete fucker. ... and cam, i still like ye even though your a fucker)

moosie: "mom, listen. i know the reindeer. i learned the song. theres dasher, dancer, prancer, and vixen. thomas, queper, donner and blitzen. and rudolph is the famous one."

oh. my. god.

i dont know which is worse, the fact that he made himself one of the reindeer or the obvious drug reference. what an arrogent pothead he is.

this morning, i was up at the counter checking in for my doctors appointment, which is right next to the dermotology department. anyhow, i was standing there, waiting for my insurance card, when a man walked up to the adjacent counter...

"hi, i have an appointment at 9.30. sure, the name is michael jackson."

how ironic, especially since the pediatrics wing is on a different floor.

dear exhusband,

i know its the season of giving and love, but i dont think sharing your VD with me is what they had in mind. so really, please stop trying to sleep with me. just stop it. because its not only gross, but there is just no fucking way. sure, i admit, i was weak and gave in a few times after we seperated. and not just the time we made our second child like i told everyone. because it is humilating enough to have to admit that i married you, and worse to admit you stuck anything of yours near anything of mine. but that was then, you know, like when i was still out of my mind and doing things of a disgusting nature, like smoking and having sex with you. weve been divorced for a year and a half now. you have ANOTHER kid. the fact that you claim im your 'freebie forever' cause i used to be married to you, is both fucking retarded, and a long shot. youd have better luck trying to convince ben affleck into bed with you. not that you havent thought about that on many occasions. so to put it bluntly, on a scale of 1-10 of the chances of me sleeping with you, you rate at about a FUCK OFF ALREADY. so everytime you call and tell me you have your hand in your pants, i am neither surprised, nor amused. the simple fact that you have your hand in your pants is pretty much just saying that your keeping up with that hourly schedule you must so desperately need these days. and if you think that it might prompt me into some steamy phonesex fantasy, you are wrong. very very wrong. yes i remember when we would have sex on the porch, it was gross. yes i remember having sex against the front door to freak out the bible study group across the halls on tuesdays, that was gross too. yes i remember all those things, but as i hear you remind me of them it makes me want to claw at my ears and watch my breakfast reappear. so in summary - not going to happen, not going to happen, not ever in a million years even if you promised me an endless supply of hostess cupcakes is it ever going to fucking happen. ever.

all my love,
kayde (you know, the one still waiting for some child support)

ps. everytime i hear you say anything about wanting to fuck, it makes me think of cheap booze and strippers. i wonder why that is.

some days, living with your parents is hard to choke down. others, its almost like dying, then being tortured, and then dying again. you see my point. but realistically, even on my worst days, the days that seem like it is unbearable to deal with the insufferable Queen of Darkness any longer, i remind myself that it could be worse. i could live with dad.

poor poor angie.

living with our father, is like this... imagine standing in a dark room, alone, with no exits. there is a mosquito, monica gellar, a drill sergeant, and voices in your head. pleasant isnt it. now kick the drill sergeant in the crotch and then spill coffee on the carpet. VOILA!

he can go on and on for hours and hours and hours about how the dishrags shouldnt go in the same load of laundry as the washcloths because they each require a specific amount of oxyclean and if you accidentally put one in with the washcloths then you will throw off whole balance of the clean world and then holy shit what we use to clean up the ring on the counter left by the heinous coffee mug and OH MY GOD...

you are a crazy little tiny man.

and you, angie, poor poor angie, get to live with him. but on a lighter note, on those worst days, when it seems unbearable, remind yourself, that it could be worse. he could play chilean flute music before dawn.

oh wait. HA HA HA. i know its so mean and nasty and i should pity you and not mock you but since im incapable of any emotion HA HA HA.

its not your birthday anymore so piss off.

there once was a girl from nantucket
her head was like that of a bucket
you think thats big?
you aint seen a thing
you should see the size of those OH MY GOD ARE THOSE YOUR ANKLES CAUSE THOSE ARE THE BIGGEST.ANKLES.EVER.

happy birthday big seester.

in honor of your many years of life, i shall remind you of the horrible things you did to torment me as a child:
-when mom would leave you in charge, you would write her notes about how naughty i was and put them on the highest shelf where i couldnt reach them
-you say something along the lines of 'youre adopted' or 'i overheard mom tell dad that she didnt want you anymore' and when id get mad and scream youd smile all smug-like and say 'see, thats why'. (you did that alot. i hated that the most. i hated that smile. i kinda want to slap you right now while i think about it)
-you were sneaky and quiet and VICIOUS. (damn, that was smart)

and now, because im not the 'naughty little sister' i once was, i'll give you a few things that made me love you despite the VICIOUS. and the QUIET.
-in 1st grade, every morning i would cling to you sob and scream when you would have to leave to go to your wing of the school. and every morning you would hug me and tell me i would be ok and that you wouldnt be far away. you didnt hiss at me or belittle me or whisper mean things about being adopted.
-even though you were 5 years older and WAY TOO COOL for it, you would play dress up with me and do my hair in silly ponytails all over my head. and you would smile (not the smile that makes me want to slap you) and laugh and pretend that you werent too cool (i admit, you were kind of a dork and maybe you werent too cool for it but because its your birthday we will go with the former story)
-even though you always threatened to tell, you never told mom any of my secrets until we were older and we started telling her things just to watch her face squish up and tell us that she hoped we really never did those things. but we so did.
-and you kick so much ass now that it physically hurts to think that youre all the way out in arizona. partly because im jealous of the warm weather, true. but mostly cause you are a damn fine sister. i cant say i want to grow up like you because i have unfortunately already grown, and youre way shorter, and lets face it, cool or not cool, you cant achieve this.

i love you anj.
way to be 29.

Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love,Teddy

Dear Teddy,
Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead.
Santa

last nite the tree went up and the kids circled it like hungry predators. it took 5 of us to get the tree straight and stable. that of course involved 1 baby laughing as the needles tickle his face, and 1 moose to use the flashlight in the ever-popular 'strobelight' fashion. keeping with my childhood tradition, we strung the lights while the kids danced to the john denver & muppets christmas album. big e mainly just spun in circles and in his dizzy-drunken state, often fell into the tree. moosie did all the things that make me crazy, but remind me that hes just a 4 year old boy. not the intellegent, capable grown man i see him as. the house feels more and more cozy as christmas creeps in. im still fighting the tiresome battle to get THE angel on top of the tree. the fact that it has been the staple in every single one of my christmas' hasnt convinced my mother. you see, it doesnt go with this years 'christmas fruit' theme. hey ma, its called tradition.

tra-di-tion.

come hell or high water, that angel will sit atop that fucking tree. this isnt over yet.

the 25 days of christmas:
(1 memory of europe for each day)

memory lane - next exit.

1. i wore a skirt and heels on the plane. OVER ICELAND. for 16 hours. stupid stupid stupid.
2. mcdonalds does not sell cappucinos there. that is bad news after a long flight. they did however have redbull (this was nearly a year before it was introduced in the states). it scared me the first time i drank it.
3. the peanut butter tastes like sand. its grainy and unsweetened. whoever thought of just crushing up peanuts and calling it peanut butter had a bad idea.
4. my friends mother didnt speak english, but she could make some damn fine wool socks. and in american tradition, i got drunk and ruined them when i stuck my foot in the space heater after i had passed out.
5. there are 3 types of parties there: preparties, parties, and post-parties. i never made it past the first (in my defense their liquor is potent. its like drinking rubbing alcohol mixed with moonshine)
6. my first nite there, we had a party (shocking, i know). one guy in particular was super scary (lets refer to him as thor-arne olsen) and chased me around like we were in kindergarten. i ended up hiding under the desk of a guy i really really fucking hated.
7. after that day, i rode everyday about 30 minutes each way on a train to see 'guy-i-really-really-fucking-hated'
8. he left me in a train station the first nite and i missed my trains because i couldn't understand norwegian yet. i cried in that station for 3 hours until some friends came and rescued me.
9. no i didnt 'really-really-fucking-hate-him' anymore. not even after that. in fact, i dated him, and enjoyed it. we would laugh together and brush our teeth before bed together and cook together. he was quiet and gentle and reserved. he was a kindergarten teacher for gods sake. though he wasnt affectionate, and he was a bad lover. but i enjoyed our time just the same.
10. he and i took a trip up to a cabin in the mountains with 3 of his friends. they sang soccer songs or chants in norwegian on the way there. i was so embarrassed at the time. now i think it was kind of cute.
11. there was no electricity or plumbing. in the mountians. IN NORWAY. so we drank to stay warm.
12. his friends drove the car into a ditch the first nite so we were stranded for 3 days with like 30 cases of beer and a whole bunch of free time.
13. this is also where the famous 'drunk kate in the bearpussy hat' photo comes from.
14. somehow, through like 5 feet of snow, we made it home, and i made it back to to the 'house of sin' in oslo.
15. the 'house of sin' had 5 norwegians (3 who were good friends of mine) and 3 swedes living there. the 3 swedes lived in the basement. one of them was the most beautiful man ive ever seen. everyone whos seen his picture agrees.
16. the legal drinking age is 18 there. i was 17. the first time we went to a pub, they asked (in norwegian) the guys how old i was. they told him (in norwegian that i was 20). when he asked me, i told him 18. he let us in anyways, despite my pub-ignorance. and we got very very drunk. and went to see 'mulan' in the theater. i fell off my seat. it felt good to be laugh so much at a kids movie with men in their mid-20s. each one of them would have died for me, they were like big brothers. but way cool big brothers, the kind that fly you across the world and get you good and drunk.
17. i ran out of money, so i took a cab across oslo to meet an american business associate of my fathers who forked over some more cash to get me through the next 2 weeks. the cab ride cost me nearly as much as he gave me.
18. i spent the money taking a train to sweden. and i smoked in the bathroom on the train and put my cigarettes out on the 'no smoking' sign. yea, such a rebel.
19. and i ate lutefisk. because i wanted to be a nice guest. and it was worse than it looks. trust me.
20. and i kicked -all- the swedes asses in lazer tag. i mean, really, i handed it to them. some claimed their guns were broken. another said it wasnt his fault, hes 'just a poor little retard'
21. i consumed more cider (not crappy woochuck type cider, GOOD european cider) than my entire body weight.
22. the last nite in sweden i was basically carried to the train, fell and hit my head as i boarded, and woke up in oslo with a lump on my forehead and the worst.hangover.ever.
23. julebrus is the cure for any drunk related ailment.
24. there are many uses for a large, pink soap-on-a-rope penis.
25. i got to spend over a month with more than 50 people who love the same things i do. damn it was a good 6 weeks.

god i miss my friends from overseas. christmas time always makes me miss them.

jag älskar dig & god jul.

while i was running errands today i had to make my daily stop at blockbuster and The-Heavenly-Place-That-Sells-Sandwiches. i also had to make a stop so i could buy a new calendar for next year and some more chocolate milk. the need for more chocolate milk has become up there on the list with necessities like OXYGEN. so i figured i'd run into kmart since it's in the same strip mall.

big. mistake.

apparently the requirements to shop at kmart should be published at the entrance:

number of teeth + number of working limbs = 6 or less

because seriously, and i try to be kind, i really do, but those people should not have been allowed in public. they should be trapped under the stairs of the basement and left to feed on rats and bathe in their own ugly. it was a reject shoppers orgasm in there. i need to go home and take another shower. you know, just in case the mix of IcyHot and Kathy Ireland Perfume rubbed off on me.

i swear, i need to go back to walmart where the rest of the pretty people shop.

over the weekend, my parents and i spent a day devoted to finalizing the christmas shopping and picking out the perfect tree. the kids were at their fathers, no doubt learning a colorful vocabulary and how to properly torture and torment. so the grown-ups day of shopping was underway. along with two people so innocent and pure that they bring shame to the mormon community. two people, my parents, that are so good-natured and unaware of the vulgar real world that they need things like 'cover band' and 'rimjob' explained to them. two people, my parents, that spent the entire day talking about VAGINAS, and BEING TIED UP WITH SILK & SATIN. and oh my god, BUTTPLUGS. it so happens that these two people, my parents, watched some sex talk show on the WE channel about buttplugs and misc. other toys and gadgets. and they talked about it. IN PUBLIC. the world as i know it has ended.

by parents, i mean my mother and step-dad. my real dad, is about as pure as artificial sweetener. he is who i blame for my premarital sex and my extensive use of the word fuck. to further prove this point, the first nite he met my exhusband, he was wearing a robe that fit him 50 pounds and 30 years earlier. that of course is being generous. and in his glory, the glory that is my father, he constantly made reference to the fact that 'these days its hard to find clothing that is large enough to cover big blue'. big blue being his penis. of course. because that is my dad. he is conventionally disturbed. but he is my dad, and we make no excuses for him. mostly, we just cry a little on the inside.

i am responsible for creating that.
that itty bitty ball of slobber and silly.
and so cute its physically painful.
its gotta be from my genes.

fucking-a right.

yesterday morning, moosie crawled up on my recliner next to me, breath full of bubble gum stank.

"what did you eat? dude you STINK"

"thanks mom. (he thanks you if you tell him his farts stink too, he IS his fathers son after all) its yogurt. pink and purple kind. i wanted the orange and yellow but then i picked this one because its so much tastier"

"sick. you CHOSE to eat something that is bubblegum flavored?"

"uh huh. and now my friends are in my tummy"

"your friends?"

"yea, my friends. they are all cozy and warm in my tummy and soon they will be born."

oh christ. this is all my fault. appearently i didnt explain this all better when at the tender age of 2, we had the talk about the birds and the bees:

"bubby, mama is pregnant. youre going to have a little brother. see mommys tummy, theres a baby in there."

with a face stricken of sheer pain and horror he said "mommy, did you EAT my little brother?"

that right there just screams 'child prodigy'. hey folks, they might not be mensa material, but damn are they cute.

also,

happy one month to me!
smoke free and feeling shitty.
here here!

**note to all attractive, single men (clever is good too):
when there is an inch of snow or more, coming over to scrape my car windows in the morning would be GREAT. oh yea, turning it on to warm it up would be better. or me, you could do that to me too.

she is the one who really actually does complete my thoughts. she knows my secrets, before i tell her. she knows me, what i do, and why i do it without having to explain. she is harshly honest and fiercly compassionate, exactly when she needs to be. she knows who i was over a decade ago, and who i will become decades from now. she is what seems right in the world when nothing else does. she is the icing on my cake.

"kate, im pregnant."

i have been waiting for this for so so long. (its about fucking time.) i am so happy for you both and you know im going to smother the hell out of you for the next 8 months. after that, hell yes, im gonna eat that baby.

were gonna be mommies together! woo!

things to do today:

1. shower
2. put on clean clothes
3. do hair and/or makeup
4. eat breakfast
5. leave the house
6. pretend to function like the rest of the human race

i have accomplished 1 & 2 finally. and that is two more things than i have accomplished all week. oh shut up, like youve never been depressed.