Priceless.

I've reverted back to cutting my split ends and I'm giving myself a headache.
I decided that I will stop the madness and tell a personal tale.

I'm not a big potty talk person. Sure, I can joke around about how I pee my pants and pee the bed as an adult because it's a fact of my life and rather than be embarrassed about it, I have decided to embrace it. However, when it comes to "taking the Browns to the Superbowl" I'd like to pretend it just doesn't happen. I mean really? Why do our bodies do this? I figure Heavenly Father has a sense of humor that I just don't understand.

For my senior trip I went to Lake Powell for 5 or 6 days with a BFF and her aunt and uncle. If we had to pee we could go in the lake, but if we had to make a nasty we had to ask the aunt and uncle to turn the water on in the boat and then they would all be sitting on the beach while you're in the crapper and they knew EXACTLY what you were doing. My solution? I didn't poop the ENTIRE trip. That takes talent people. My friend was even like, "Uh, you didn't even go to the bathroom the whole time we were there." I was like, "Yeah, I guess I just never had to go." When in reality I lost 5 pounds when I finally made the release. Haha, I can't believe I'm typing all of this! Do you see what my job is doing to me?!

For all Derrick knows I NEVER fart or make number 2. It's been a little tricky to conceal for the last 5ish years, but I'd like to think I've done a stand up job! The real challenge started when the endometriosis came because it makes your body act like it has IBS. What is IBS? It's Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So basically, when it hits you gotta find a toilet like PRONTO or you're scewed. And don't even think about farting to release the pressure or you could shart! What is sharting? It's when you think you're gonna fart and instead you shiz your pants.

Once upon a time we lived in an apartment with only one bathroom. I was making dinner like a good slave... I mean wife (oopsy!) and Derelict was in the shower. Suddenly, a meteor expolded in my stomach and my intestines opened a can of serious whoop-A. I doubled over and weighed my options as fast as I could. A - Go into the bathroom and scar my husband for life with no chance for recovery. B - Try to hold it, drive 5 minutes to the nearest gas station and hope to make it back before Derrick notices I left. The gas station wins! Although, I was not fast enough. The truth came out and I've yet to live it down.

Last week I was having serious stomach issues. I was laying on the lovesack watching a show and decided to let a silent but deadly fart escape from my body. This episode of flatulence probably could have killed a small village. Derrick came downstairs and lifted up the blanket to sit by me and watch the movie. The stench hit his nostrils and he pulled back in disgust. His poor face was priceless! I still crack up every time I think about it. I'm cracking up right now. Good thing the rest of my office is at lunch. It leaves me wondering, why did I wait so long to unleash the beast?

I hope you enjoyed my very long story about pooping and farting.
Until next time.

-The Princess of Phenomenal Flatulence
(my sister is the Queen)

I'm Surrounded By Morons.

Pet Peeve #582

SAHM Facebook statuses that read:
"Hubby lover buns is away on business for two whole days :( Being a single mom is SOOOO gosh darn stinkin hard!"

I will slap you until you bleed, you stupid idiot women. Yes, women-plural. I see this comment probably bi-weekly. Now call me crazy, but I believe when your husband is away making money for your family that does not qualify you as a single parent. REAL single mothers have to dump their kids in daycare, work at a job or two or three away from home all the live long day, AND make dinner, do dishes, do laundry, go grocery shopping, bathe, etc.

I honestly can't believe people are that freaking stupid.
That's like me saying:
"My new Nikes gave me a blister on my run this morning! As I limped along, I could feel the pioneer spirits guiding me on my journey back to my heated three story home. What a testimony builder!"

I feel a brain anuerysm coming on so, that is all for today.

I'mma Bust a Cap!

The other morning, while in peaceful slumber, my doorbell rings at 7 AM.

1st thought, "It's probably some chick in the Relief Society."

2nd thought: "Pssshhh. If those beeotches wanna talk to me, they can come back at a decent time."

I'm waiting for the lightning to strike me down, but let's be honest. Church people are the only people who will consistently show up at your door time and time again unexpected and unannounced. I'm just telling it like it is.

I proceed to roll over and capture some more wonderful shut eye, but I hear doors and cupboards slamming. Then, the mind games start.

"Oh shiz. It's a maniac killer/evil robber/menacing rapist. They rang the doorbell to see if anyone was home and then came through the back door when they thought the coast was clear."

After some serious debate, I decide to trek downstairs to see what's going on. First, I have to get dressed. "Hmmm, what should I be wearing when the cops find my mutilated body?" This decision took a shameful amount of time. Much longer than I'm going to admit. I finally settled on some gray sweats and one of Derrick's black zip up hoodies. I pick up my phone, dial 911, position my finger over the green send button, and grab Derrick's gun.

Halfway down the stairs, I rethink the gun because I can't even cock it. The last time I tried my fingers got stuck in the freakin thing and it hurt like a motha! So, as soon as my attacker figures out I have no intention of actually using the gun they'll take it from me and kill my with my own gun. Then, the police will come, trace the gun to my husband and they'll think Derrick killed me... What to do, what to do?

I decide to stick with the gun. It makes me look gangsta.

I slowly make it downstairs and check all rooms, closets, behind furniture, etc. I open the front door and peek out. Well what do you know, I guess it was just the neighbors slamming cupboards and doors. Haha! Don't I feel sheepish.

I walk back upstairs, lock myself in my room - just in case, and go back to sleep until it's time for work.

First thing I google after arriving at work.

Taser.

That's right I am soon to be armed and dangerous. Either with a taser or this cute little gun that I can actually work called "The Pink Lady". So, don't come knocking at my door earlier than 8:00 AM unless you want to suffer the consequences.

Word.

Pee is Fascinating

Oh Em Gee my job is boring.

I can't take it anymore.
I even read an article the other day and Dr Oz said
it's worse for your health to be
bored than it is to be stressed.
I honeslty can't wait to get knocked up.
It's going to be my golden ticket!

Obviously, my sanity is becoming more and more debatable. I'll give you a little rundown of what my job has been like lately.

About a month ago I took to cutting my split ends all day long. Kind of gross considering that my desk area had constant plethora of 1/2 inch hair pieces floating about, but it killed the time. It probably killed my eyesight too. Then I got a trim. Bye bye gross habit.

Yesterday I had the task of hauling a box, taller than I am, upstairs to our filing room.
The boy who sits by the stairs, (whose calves are twice as thick as my head) turned around, folded his arms, and intently watched me lug the box upstairs. He is a creeper and an absolute douche. I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating ways to kill him using only office supplies.

Today when I went to the restroom I noticed my pee was a little too yellow.
So, I've been drinking lots of water and going to the bathroom frequently
to watch my urine change colors.
I heart clear pee.
I'll probably pee the bed tonight.

Help me.

The end.

HONEEEEY!!!!!!!

When I was a youngster my mom and dad would call me honey.

"Honey, rub my feet."

"Will you change your brothers diaper, honey?"

"Honey, get over here, fan my face, and feed me grapes while I watch Young and the Restless."

You see what I mean.

So, when my wee brother started learning names he called me honey. He couldn't get down the stairs all alone, so he would stand at the stairs and scream: HONEEEEYYY, HONEEEEEY!!!!!! I would come running, push him down the stairs, and have a good laugh.

My parents neighbors even call me honey. The name just kind of stuck.

Now, I am about to tell you a sad story. Lately I've been suffering. Every morning I look in the mirror, start to cry, and turn away in disgust.

I've been cursed with...

ADULT ACNE! and FLAKY DISGUSTING SKIN

WAAAHHHH!

I know, I know. I live the. hardest. life. ever.

Since facial death has fallen upon my face I've been frequenting makeupalley.com to find a cure. It turns out honey will be my saving grace.

And the choir sings!!!

I've been slathering this on my face for 15-20 minutes a couple times a week. Then Derrick licks it off while I shout praises to the queen bee and her hive. Hello pre-pubescent skin!

I also use it as a spot treatment for any zits that do happen to pop up. Even yucky chest zits. The next morning they are gone! It's a miracle for sheezy.

If you decide to give this a try you have to use raw honey. None of that crap in the bear bottle. If you have any questions, your Chinese friends at your local health food store should be able to help you out. Have a rice day!

(Yeah that's right. This is all I have to blog about. And I'm not going private. I'm an overreactor and I'm just not that big of a deal yet.)

Private Yay or Private Nay...

I'm going to give you the story...

Derrick has an ex girlfriend that he broke up
with about 6 or 7 years ago.
She's married with a child now, but apparently

her mom just can't seem to let it go.

She's Derrick's wanna be mother in law.

She has given him a card on his bday every year
since I've known him.

She doesn't send it in the mail because she knows
Derrick's mom will throw it in the

garbage when she sees it is from.

So... how does she remedy this problem?

She goes to his parents house and actually puts it in the mailbox!
How creeptastic is that?!

She also decided to do a little drive by
to deilver our wedding gift.

She probably saw our announcement in the paper and
hid out at our reception the whole night and
then followed us home. It honestly wouldn't even
phase me at this point.

So, the other day I open my Facebook account
and lo and behold the creeper strikes again!

She actually stalked me out on Facebook and sent
me a message asking me to tell Derrick

that she was thinking about
him on his birthday (WOW! That's a shocker!)
and that she hopes he has a great year!

Ummm.. can you say innapropriate and uneccessary?

And then she said that she's so happy he found his perfect match, 'you'.

What the freak is up with the quotations?

Please reference this friends episode:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUlLX46gss8

Who does she think she is air quoting me like that?

So anyway am I overreacting?
Was I too hasty with the going private thing?
I'd like to go private, but at the same time
it just seems like it will be such a pain!

Oooh maybe I could not go private and just

have cute code names for us...
Like, Derrick could be Pooky Lover Bunz,

I would be Sugar Nipples

(sweet and sassy at the same time!),

and maybe if I birth a boy his code name

could be Mr. Dumps Like a Champ!

I would still put up pictures of us,

blog about recent birthdays,
have friends and family on my sidebar etc.. because
it's not like any of those things could give
away the B family's anonymity! LOLZ

Chances are she doesn't even know I have a blog,
and if she does maybe now she'll get the hint...
or my husband will get kidnapped

and I'll be murdered!

So, what do YOU think?

Any words of wisdom/opinions that anyone can
offer would be great!

Stocked and Skurred for My Babies!

Um, someone is stockeen me and I'm not
all that comfy with it. :(

I think my stocker has serious baby napping potential.

So, I'm going private fur real.
Leave me your email if you read my blog!
Don't be embarrassed because chances are
that I read your blog too!

Thanks peeps!

I'm It!

Natty Bo Batty tagged me.

I am to answer 8 questions and then I tag 8 peeps with 8 different questions that I make up. The sad news is that I don't really think I have 8 friends who blog anymore. I probably didn't even have 8 friends to begin with.

Don't feel bad for me.
Who needs friends when I can and totally do
have out loud conversations with

myself on a regular basis?
It's all good!

What is your favorite TV show?

I have two.
Friends and The Office.
I'm not even going to beat around
the bush on that one.
(that's what she said)

What is one thing you would change if you could go back to your high school years?

I guess if I could go back and change something,
I would have been potty trained once and for all!
(It just feels like it's too late to learn now, ya know?!)

REALLY though, I did some pretty stupid things to

hurt friends and family that I wish I could take back,
but I've done my best to make my peace.
You live and you learn.

What is on your Christmas list this year?

Oh Christmas... I've been so excited all year long!
Why? I have no idea.

I can't even put up a Christmas tree this year
because our apartment is so stupid and tiny.
I'm still excited though!

All I've wanted for months and months is a vacation,
but it turns out I married a money nazi!
No vacay for you!
So, I'll be good with clothes that
I won't be able fit into sooner than later
because of my expanding belly.

NOT AN ANNOUNCEMENT

Just prepping myself.

Name something that always makes you happy.

Twilight!!!
It's like porno for my emotions.
Not really. I'm just trying to fit in!

My real answer is...
Food, for sure.
I'm talkin the good stuff.
None of this candy schmandy crap.
To be honest I'm more excited for
Thanksgiving than Christmas.

Nothing says I want to make you happy more than a
plump hamburger laden with juicy bacon and a side

of fat squishy fries waiting to be

immersed in fry sauce.

Nothing.

If you won a billion dollars what would you do with it?

I would probably croak before I got to

spend a dime of it.
That just seems to be the way things go.

But just in case I didn't...
I would buy lots and lots of houses,

flying lessons, and a plane.
Then I would travel my butt off with Derelict!
Houses on beaches, cabins in the mountains,

a hut in Africa, a castle in India

a teepee on the reservation...
You name it, I bought it!

If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?

1. That no one would ever go hungry.

2. To be surrounded by stupid people no more!

3. To have a happy family forever.

What is your favorite food in the whole wide world?

I've been stuck on this question for 20 minutes and counting....

Ding ding ding!!!

My desk is covered in drool. It's a tie between
that burger I just had a love affair with in question
four, sushi, and Costa Vida sweet pork.

If you could go anywhere in the world, all expenses paid...
Where would you go?

Africa!
I have a lion fetish.
One could eat me and I wouldn't even be mad.

I doubt anyone will do this, BUT...
I tag
Brittni, Angela, Kim C., Keri A., Cheyanne,
Shelsie, Chelsea, and Kami L.

Your new questions are:

What is your most embarrassing moment?

Who, what, where, when, and how was your first kiss?

What is your favorite movie?

If you only had 24 hours left to live, how would you spend it?

What is your favorite thing to do to relax?

What is your biggest pet peeve?

Do you have a "list"
(you know, a hibbity dibbity one)
If so, who is on it?

What is something that always makes you happy?

Have fun guys!

Let Me Just Crawl in a Hole and Die

I thought my blog was kind of depressing last time.
So, I thought I'd give you something to point and laugh at today.

Embarrassing Moment #213

I'm in 4th-ish grade.
I'm awkward and skinny and snotty nosed.
All that is pretty much the same

except for the skinny part.

My mom signs me up for a modeling class,
maybe she thought it would boost my self esteem.
Ok.

All the pretty girls I dance with are there.
Insecurity steps up to the plate.
and it is a bad MoFO.
So bad that I'm too afraid to ask if I can use the

restroom because peeing is gross.
I don't want the pretty girls to know I urinate!

The model teacher asks me to get up and
practice the model walk.
Unfortunately for me, in order to

walk this walk you CAN'T have your hand

over your privates AND you have to SEPARATE
your legs from each other.

Oh yeah, and remember skorts?
I'm wearing one.
It's not even a concealing color.
It's denim.

I take step one,
I'm a supermodel!

Step two,
Legs are trembling...

Step three,
Pee is trickling down the legs...

Step four,
My bladder *EXPLODES*

I freeze, look down,
and pray that it will stop.
I guess I'm just not that lucky.

The model teacher runs to me and
rushes me to the bathroom.

I lock myself in the stall and cry
like a baby who still pees her pants.

Good thing I learned my lesson...
BAAAAhaha!
Not even close.
I still pee my pants.
It's been a couple years though!
I'm keepin my fingers crossed!!
(and my legs)

Embarrassing Moment #578

New Years Day 2006

I'm obsessed with DDR.
If you don't know what DDR is you're lame
and I shouldn't even explain, but I will.
DDR stands for
Dance Dance Revolution
**cough*loser*cough**

Fist pump to everyone who knew
what I was abbreviating!

Anyway the night before we had a rockin
80's party in L-town.

I stayed at the house we partied at with my
BFF Kelsey. The next morning I bust my DDR
mats out of my trunk for a little competition.
Yes, I kept them in my trunk.
Boooya! Chest Bump!

This home we stayed at is housed by many boys.
I know, I know, I'm a sinner!

All I had was my 80's outfit and it wasn't
DDR comp material, so I borrowed
some shorts from one of the fellas.

Let the dancing begin!!!

I'm rockin out to one of my fave songs
when two boys who don't live there show up.
I pay them no attention because I'm in the zone.

Prepare to judge me harshly.

It should be noted that at this time
in my life I wasn't big on wearing underwear?!
Don't ask me why!!

I blame it dancing and massage school.
You could never wear undies with tights
and spandex AND I had to get naked
everyday at school and underwear
was just one more thing to put on
and take off.

One of the boys who shows

up has a video camera rolling.
The other boy runs over pulls on my shorts and...
HOLY SHIZ, MOTHER FRICK

I've been depansted!!!!

And I'm still jumping...

my shorts are down to my ankles and
my white booty is bouncing for all to see.

I still thank my lucky stars that everyone in the room

was sitting behind me instead of in front of me.

I made sure the video was destroyed,

but just in case I did not name names on purpose.

So there's no need to go looking for it

OK?! Ok.

About To Be Estrogen Free!!!

Remember this post?
Yeah. It did me in.

This post will probably be TMI for some of you,
but I'm having a pity party so deal with it.

I had surgery last Friday on my woman parts.
They found endometriosis.
Or in my gyno's words
"A bunch of shit. This is really shitty. Shit, shit, shit."
I love him.

So basically if I ever want kids I have to start
making them today.
OR
I can go on a shot that will cause my body to
go through a temporary menopause.

I'm getting the shot.
3 months min
6 months max

Next time I blog I'll probably be doing it in a pool of
sweat and tears because I just had my first
hot flash and I'm only 24.

It gets better.
After the shot I start making babies.

After the first baby is born
I get back on the wagon to make another one.

No time inbetween.
And I repeat that until I'm a

tubbalard on meds,

with a minivan, and have my
desired amount of mouths to feed
and butts to change.

AND THEN
I get to have a hysterectomy.

Derrick will probably leave me.

I'm already certifiable.
They'll find me one day;
diapers all around me, crap up my arms
and throw up in my hair, with a kid attached
having a suckle of my zipple.
I'll be crying hysterically
and they'll take me away and put me
in an institution.

So say goodbye to the Ashley you knew.

Welcome the new Ashley who has a
cheesebuger at every meal to eat away her
depressed menopausal, soon to be prego
all the time, and then
without a uterus feelings.

The end.

PS - Don't call the WAAAHHmbulance on me

I know things could be worse, but
I just feel like being a baby.