In where I am a complete hypocrite.

Fucking commercials. (I know, we've been over this.) I have to tell you something. I bought something SOLELY on the commercial. OH MY GOD MY SHOULDERS ARE SO LIGHT RIGHT NOW!

You will usually find me kvetching about the crap they advertise on TV, or more so that the commercials are crap, and what douchenugget CEO signed off on THAT to promote their product? I mean, the majority of commercials could have been written by my two year old and been loads more effective and entertaining. Er, no offense to any advertising folks out there. Actually, total offense. If you are responsible for shit like the TaxMasters, J.G. Wentworth, 1-800 I have mesothelioma or a transvaginal mesh because my uterus fell out and I want a lawyer commercials - you, sir, are an asshole. OH MY GOD MY SHOULDERS ARE EVEN LIGHTER! I DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS POSSIBLE! WHOO!

Anyway, so I bought something just because of the commercial. Not even really because of the commercial, but because of the ridiculously catchy ditty they sing. It is so catchy, in fact, that even the Preteen sings it when it comes on, and we have actions for it. Yep, I'm talking about Miller 64. (I know, I totally named dropped in the hope that someone will read this and send me a shit ton of free beer. I ain't too proud to beg, y'all.) THAT COMMERCIAL WORMED ITS WAY INTO MY BRAIN AND MADE ME BUY THE BEER! And yes, I hummed the song in the beer aisle, and did the actions - which consist of swinging my arm back and forth in front of me, pretending I'm holding a big ass mug of brewski. (I also have no shame.)

PS - I like the beer. But there's not many I don't like. And the fact that it's only 64 calories per bottle just means I can eat more Nutella, since evidently it's not good for you?! W.T.F.

Blog? Blog? Wherefore Art Thou, Blog?

My other blog, documenting this adventure/journey/whatever you want to call it - LIFE, is here: http://www.stillmyquinn.wordpress.com. Sorry, Blogger, you're kind of bitchy lately, and if you don't watch it, I may move this one over there, too.

Thanks to Brett for giving me the push I needed to share it. There are scores of Autism blogs out there, and if anyone has any suggestions of must-reads, help a sistah out, yo.

This is not a mirage. It is an actual post.

Hey peeps. I need to apologize for my absence. I'm going to try my best to be around more often, but I lost my funny for a while - still not sure if it's back - and I didn't want to be Debbie Downer and harsh any melons with my depression. Because that is exactly what it was, and is (and will continue to be), compounded by the news that my beautiful, ornery boy has been diagnosed with Autism.  I'm going to address that journey in another blog, and I will post the link here later if anyone is interested. That will be where I get real - real mad, real sad, real proud, real everything. If you don't want to stop by, because really, it will be a roulette of emotions over there, don't feel obligated. If you want to join me and my family on this Autism adventure, please join me. I would love suggestions and advice. Celebrate successes and reassess what needs to be done differently with us, but do not feel sorry for us. All that has changed in our lives is a line on Q's medical chart, some extra appointments, and some new people in our lives. I am of the school of thought that a diagnosis is not a label, not a box to put my kid in, but a tool to help us help him be the most that he can be. And I can pretty much guarantee that this boy will teach me more than I will ever teach him.

I'm not going to lie and tell you that my heart doesn't hurt. It does. There are moments I feel absolutely broken. And then I look at him. And like the Grinch, my heart grows three sizes. And I remember why I wanted to be a mother so badly. Because every second I get to spend with that boy makes life worth living. Every smile, every frown, every flap, squeak, stomp, and squawk - it's what makes him Quinn. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Ever.

Thanks. Oh, and I love you guys.
<3

Questions I need answered

A lot of shit bugs me. Like people who use alot instead of a lot (MOM.). Therefore, I've compiled a list of seemingly innocent questions that have not been answered in my 35 years on this planet. If you know the answer, please enlighten me. As always, points for creativity.

1. Who decided exactly what a serving size of cereal is? 3/4 of a cup ain't cutting it, people.
2. Why do kids who wear diapers poop within 5 minutes of having a clean, dry, perfect diaper put on?
3. Why do dogs need to go back out within five minutes of coming in?
4. Why must said dogs also start barking 10 minutes after the smallest child is in bed?
5. Why does it always rain the hardest right when I need to get in or out of my car?
6. Why do all rental properties have carpets that can be stained when you spill something like water on them?
7. Why do dogs cropdust? As ugly as their farts are, you'd think they'd at least own them.
8. Why did Nick Jr. take off my kid's favorite show? (To make me miserable, obvs.)
9. Why can't any of the maintenance guys/cable guys/etc. who are dispatched to our house be hot? (I can't put UPS/FedEx on this list - their drivers are so elusive, I've never seen them. I'm pretty sure they just yell "wingardium leviosa" and fly my shit from their truck.)
10. Why can't the people in my house put shit IN the trash can rather than on the counter ABOVE it.

Unfortunately, there's many more, but a dog just barfed in the middle of my oh-so-pristine living room carpet, so that takes precedence. Looking forward to the answers...

Karma in action, episode 1

*Our story begins last night during dinner. After staring at me for several minutes with a WTF look on his face, Hubs decides to speak:

Hubs: Kelly, you really need to start taking better care of your stuff! You have a huge scratch on your glasses!

Me: *disgruntled stinkeye/pretends to not hear him, while thinking, "Oh fuck right off, are you my dad???*

*Fast forward to 0453 this morning. Phone rings. It is Hubs.

Hubs: Could you look in the garage/driveway to see if there's a pair of socks out there? They aren't in the car, and I had stuck my iPod in it.

Me: Sure. Let me go get the flashlight.

...
...
...


Me: There's nothing here. Maybe you should take better care of your stuff?

BOOM.

Where's the sign up sheet for straitjacket fittings?

Yay, a post! In bullet format. Because I'm too tired and lazy today for a proper introduction. Or a complete sentence, it appears. I'll discuss my absence from ye olde blog later. Oh yay! A complete sentence! Uh...

Thoughts as of late:

• I wonder if some nighttime Triaminic accidentally got into someone's applesauce if he'd actually take a nap today.
• Dog, one of your balls is bigger than the other. How do I know this? They're on my leg. FUCK! YOUR BALLS ARE ON MY LEG! GETEMOFF! GETEMOFF! 
• I wish it would snow.
• I think my power animal is a sloth.
• I ate enough at lunch to feed Oprah's school in wherever for a, well, meal?
• I'd really like to get paid to tweet. I can promote something! How about the phone number for Binder and Binder? Or Taxmasters? Or the transvaginal mesh and mesothelioma lawyers? 
• I could really use a cabana boy to fan me and bring me fruity drinks today. 
• You'd think by now Febreze could create a formula that could cover the smell of both dog and grown man ass.
• I am officially addicted to Nutella. And that dark chocolate peanut butter I found at Publix. Holy Manna From Supermarket.
• The seat coolers in my car trick me into thinking I peed my pants.
• I want my husband to experience back labor for just one day.
• My son discovered, much to his chagrin, that the dog's nose does not honk like mommy's.
• Whoever decided to give Toodles on MMCH a voice should die a thousand deaths.
• ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK GO KU!!!