Personal problems and playlists

I've totally failed this A-Z blog month. I'm so far behind it isn't even funny. I'm going to finish it though, out of principal and because why the hell not. To be fair my personal life kind of just blew up into a shit storm of tiny glass pieces, but that's really nothing new and I should have been able to post through it, but I kind of lost my mojo for a few days. Anyway I'm back on track now so onto the letter P we go!

When we lived in the States we were stationed in Norfolk, Va. Our families were in Michigan and Florida, which meant when we wanted to visit it was always going to be a hell of a haul. We chose to drive thanks to my irrational fear of planes, and the longest drive was from Norfolk to Cheboygan, a whopping 22 hour drive (with stops). I hated stopping at hotels so always plowed right through it, no small thanks to Starbucks and my Dodge's wonderful ability to sync and store my iTunes playlists.

I have always been a firm believer that children do not need to listen to inappropriate music, to the point where I've been the "bad mom" on the field trip bus who jumped out of her seat and asked to change the music when Ke$ha's "Die young" song came on (seriously, second grade children do not need to hear any of the spewtastic lyrics that she puts out). I'm not saying I'm perfect, I'm so far from it that it's not even funny. My youngest goes around singing "heeey sexy lady" from Gangnam Style, much to my humiliation and ignores my desperate pleas to stop saying sexy. However I do try to make sure my kids are listening to age appropriate music. So on these road trips to Cheboygan we had a specific playlist rotation. 

We'd leave home around 7 am, and arrive sometime between 3 and 5 am.

Yay, roadtrip! Not really. Please note the sky outside, how freakin' early it is and already my children are playing with my damn camera. I look cheerier than I feel here.

Whee! Road trips! Yeah...no. Please note the sky and how Goddamn early it is and already my kids are playing with my camera.

Hours 1-5 were toddler tunes. You know the type, mind numbingly cute songs like the wheels on the bus, itsy bitsy spider, ABC's, and so on. I purchased a 100 song disc back when my oldest was first born from Wal-Mart and have thrown in songs by The Wiggles, Imagination Movers, songs from TV shows like Phineas and Ferb. The type of songs you can tune out but still somehow find yourself singing along too. 

After lunch we'd switch to the Kids Bop playlists. Oh my lawd. I chose Kids Bop songs for my oldest because it was cheaper and easier to find than popular songs that were were censored and kid friendly. I'm lazy and because of that I totally deserve the hell that is those screeching children's voices singing Lady Gaga.  Kid's Bop will take us from lunch time until dinner, and it was always the hardest part of the trip. The songs served mainly as background noise for the arguing and fighting over toys, and whining from the boys. Every time I'd try to turn off the music though, they'd complain. So by the time we would be pulling off the highway for dinner my left eye would be twitching and I'd be praying for more Advil. 

After dinner is by far my favorite part of the trip. Our normal bedtime for the boys is 7-7:30 pm and we would time the dinner stop for 6-6:30 so that by the time we got back into the car the boys would be ready to pass out. It worked like a charm every time. Yay! It was finally time for momma to get her groove on. 

I drive better when I have good music, the time flies by and I'm always in a cheerful mood when I get a chance to sing in the car. I want to be very clear, I cannot by an means sing well, not even a little bit. Yet I do it anyways because it brings me great joy, and embarrassment to my family when I do. I remember being a freshly married seventeen year old, riding around in my first car, our Saturn Ion. I'd roll down the windows and turn up Lords of Acid's song Pussy and belt it out loud and proud. 

"I wanna see your pussy 
Everybody says it's nice 
Can I can and come and visit? 
I'll be at your house tonight 

They tell me it's soft to touch and really smooth 
I can hardly wait to feel that pussy too 
You wanna play with pussy all the time 
To hide that kind of pussy is a crime 
You say you're pussy's clever and so slick 
But I think your pussy's kind of sick"

Those are some of the lyrics from the song. I love that song so much my heart hurts. Alas, just a few weeks after getting that spiffy car, I learned I was pregnant. The days of belting out semi-obscene lyrics were behind me just as quickly as it had started, and were replaced with car seats and family friendly jingles that made me want to pull out my hair because each of my boys always wanted the same songs played over and over. Sigh. Anyway back to my playlists and road trips. Along with Lords of Acid, I'd have Zug Island, Prince's Pussy Control, and just the all around not for kids ears type of music we all (most) know and love. So on our long hauls home, I'd move the speaker sound to the front and sing along quietly from 8 pm-ish until the wee hours of the mornings. I'd revel in adult music, kitschy pop songs and just in general enjoy feeling a little less like a frazzled mom who has to worry about everything and more like me. I'm not saying that caring about what kind of music you expose your children to defines you as a good or bad parent. I'm saying that *I* care, and that's my choice, one that I know I'm making for the good of my kids but is a serious detriment to my sanity. I will bitch about having to listen to twelve hours of kids music because I can, and because let's be honest here, kids music suck most of the time. I decidedly do not give a fuck about a baby beluga whale being on the go. I also know that along with me, a lot of moms out there occasionally have an 'oh shit' moment when they realize their kids are singing seriously inappropriate tunes, and feel bad for listening to their own music knowing damn well that's where their offspring hard the phrase "heeey sexy lady!" and now won't stop screaming it out at the grocery store even though she's normally really diligent in making sure that doesn't happen. 

Since those younger years I've learned that not all adult music is bad. My kids also listen to Owl City, Buddy Holly, a few Beyonce songs and a couple of other artists I can tolerate better than the fucking Wiggles (although I totally have a crush on two of them). 

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Obento, Oh yeah!

Obento (or more commonly called, Bento) boxes are home packed lunches that are often elaborately arranged to make character scenes, or just pleasingly arranged to make the lunch look appetizing. I've always wanted to try my hand at making Bento boxes, but when my boys were small I never really had a reason to do so other than the occasional picnic and even then it was a pain in the ass with two wee ones running rampant. 

Of course my little ones did not stay little for long, and before I knew it my oldest son was off to Kindergarten. While it was a sad occasion, I jumped at the chance to make his lunches! I am not a fan of school lunches (let's not get me started, okay?)so I went online and purchased his first ever bento box and a few accessories, and dove into making him yummy lunches every evening after he went to bed. I've been making him lunches just about every day for three years now, not counting the few times a year he had to have a school lunch when I was sick or gone on a trip. If you can't tell I'm pretty damn proud of that. I know not all parents can do that everyday, and I'm not saying you should. I'm not putting anyone down, hell in the parenting department I'm lucky if I'm pulling a 4/10 on the doing it right scale. I'm just proud of myself for doing something that I feel makes a small difference to my son. I often write little notes to him in food pen, or on a post it note and stick it on top of his box. I like to think that it makes him feel special when he finds them. 

Anyways, I wanted to share with you some of my Bento wins and fails. Most of these are from this year because I am way too lazy to dig through my external hard drive to find the older ones. I'm not an artist in any way shape or form. Hell I can barely draw a stick figure straight (they always look a little drunk and somewhat horny) so don't expect any greatness. I wanted to share these because when I first started making bento lunches I felt like they weren't good enough, I was reading all of these blogs that were touting how easy and quick it is to make them. They lied, at least to me. A normal lunch can take me anywhere from five to ten minutes, and my attempts at detailed ones even longer (and never came out looking anything close to what I wanted it to). Dying noodles made a huge mess and I can't ever seem to get egg molds to work correctly. I sometimes cheat and buy pre-made onigiri (rice balls) because I just don't want to have to make them. I cut corners sometimes and that's okay because I've learned that no matter how bad or sloppy you make a bento for your child, they are going to love it anyway.

An attempt at rolling "sandwich sushi". 

I saw a really cool Domo Sandwich on a bento site. I wanted to try to do it too, but I forgot the arms and ..yeah. I tried dammit! 

Triangle sandwich with a corn muffin, kiwi, strawberries, ham flower and carrots. Not all bento's need to be character ones.

This was supposed to be a meatball caterpillar. Not one of my best that's for sure.

I often use leftovers from dinner for lunches. This one was grilled BBQ chicken with white rice, grapes, corn and a corn muffin. 

Another fail. I tried to make home-made bagel bites, almond nut crackers, a fruit salad mix, cheese chunks and a mini sweat potato pie. I covered the box with saran wrap and wrote a message for him on his spelling test day. 

My youngest sons bento box that I made for him to take tho his babysitters. Applesauce, cheese cut outs, rice ball, ham rolls and almond nut crackers.

I'm pretty proud of this one. A make your own lunchable! I rolled up some ham and turkey flowers, added shaped bunny and star cheese, almond nut crackers, celeray and raisins on top of peanut butter and a bunny rice ball I made all by myself! Cheaters tip: put saran wrap over a large cookie cutter. Pack the rice into the cutter and cover with another piece of saran wrap. Apply pressure for about a minute and let it cool. Add salt when you unwrap it and boom! Instant shaped rice!

Cheaters lunch! Store bought onigiri and sushi rolls. I made the salad, added carrot sticks, chocolate crackers, and filled some fish bottles wit soy sauce. Small container has dressing in it. 

So there you have it, my best attempt at being domestic. Thankfully living in Japan has made it ridiculously easy to get Bento supplies, but for those of you who don't live here you can find a lot on Amazon or by googling "bento supplies".  Pin It

Let's learn about shit, yo!

More than halfway through the A-Z challenge now and I've only been a week late with the posts! Whoop, go me!

Today's post is brought to you by the letter N, and I've decided that it's time I spread some learnin' (half assed learning) around the blogosphere rather than just porn. We're going to learn about Necrophilia.

In the right situation I have no problems with Necrophilia. By right situations I mean two corpses who are very much in love and wish to express it before their rotting genitalia become useless. Other than that I'm pretty sure Necrophilia is bad at just about all times, and google has confirmed this. According to my vast intellectual studies and Googling capabilities, there are three basic types of "true" Necrophilia.

Necrophilic homicide, which is murder to obtain a corpse
Regular Necrophilia, the use of corpses already dead for sexual pleasure
Necrophilic fantasy, envisioning the acts but not acting on them

Necrophilia is described as a psychological disorder, and the first instances of Necrophilia date back several thousand years with written records indicating that it was happening in Ancient Egypt. In an attempt to discourage the practice Ancient Egyptians used to let women decay three to four days before giving them to the embalmers. * That tidbit had me going whoa, then wondering if I'd have to have been left to decay back then, but well let's be realistic. I'd only be worth maybe two days and that's only if I ever changed out of my yoga pants and took a shower.

Fun fact: in California the act of Necrophilia isn't illegal, but anything that would enable  you to get a dead body is (murder, breaking and entering, not reporting a body that has died of natural causes, dead animals, etc).

In a study that I'm too lazy to actually look up but found referenced on a website , researchers found that the most common jobs that attract necrophiles were hospital orderly, morgue attendant, funeral parlor assistant, cleric, cemetery employee and soldier. I'm not saying all people in those professions are prone to wanting to bone a corpse, in fact I'd go so far as to say that most people don't want to bump their uglies with decaying ones.

I don't agree with two out of three of the true Necrophilia. Nobody has the right to murder another person or animal for a sexual fetish, nor does a person have the right to be intimate with a dead body. Just because a person's soul is gone doesn't make it okay. That being said, I see no harm in fantasizing or role playing about loving a corpse, that's between you and your brain/sexual partner just like most other fetish's are. Human sexuality is a tricky and often confusing for those who harbor unusual thoughts, and so long as nobody is harmed or corpses defiled, fly your necro-freak flag all you want, in a safe and mature manner.

*That info came straight from Wikipedia because reading is hard.* Pin It

Murder Puppet

I like puppets. They are cute, fuzzy and most are remind me of my childhood watching Sesame Street and The Muppet Show. My boys also are fond of puppets and we will occasional browse youtube watching cute ABC videos and songs featuring them. A good time is usually had by all, except for last night.

Last night we found this:

Oh hell to the no. The whole "realistic" attempt, and human hands hiding under white gloves just gives me the bloody jitters. It's a man's body with a blank puppet face that kind of looks like it should be on the sex offenders list. I feel like his dead eyes are trying to burn a hole into my soul and let me tell you, that just isn't cool at all. My soul's already at risk, I don't need it spontaneously combusting on me before I have time to fully incriminate and doom it. I find it highly suspicious that this maniacal looking puppet has left out one very important M word:

Murder.

M is for motherf*cking murder, and he knows it because he's coming for us. Pin It

Lint

I hate belly buttons.

I didn't always dislike them, no in fact at one point in time it was the spot to be all up on if you wanted me to feel frisky with a quickness. In fact, the very first time my then boyfriend, now husband managed to score was because he was running his fingers along my stomach and skimmed over it a few too many times. Yeah I was that easy, shut your pie holes. Mmmm pie....Oh so anyways, all that changed when I got pregnant.

I was not a happy pregnant lady. I hated being pregnant with a passion. The absolute worst part for me started around the sixth month mark. The tiny little terror suspects in my belly started pulling on the umbilical cord inside of me. *Shudder* That was as horrible as it sounds, and some of you lady folks out there probably know that feeling. It hurt like a mofo, I screamed while writhing in pain every single time it happened; and it happened a lot. I was pregnant three times and every one of them pulled on it.

I've not been the same since, much to the disappointment of my husband. No more easy switch flipper for him, he started having to work to get me feeling freaky-fied. It wasn't just the sex switch breaking that sucked. I now cannot stand to even touch my own belly button, or see other people touch theirs. It freaks me out and I get phantom pains shooting through my stomach that feel exactly the same as when my little parasites were all up in me. This makes cleaning out my belly button really hard. I have an innie and I like to be clean ( I shower 2-3 times a day. Sometimes more if I work out or get to sweaty ). This means that once a week I remember that I need to clean that sum-bitch out so it doesn't stink like an alley cats asshole.

*Twitch*

The process begins with a very stiff drink, followed by a glass of wine then topped off with a shot of vodka. So what if it's 9 a.m on a Wednesday. That's how it has to happen. I strip myself down and throw a towel on the couch/floor/bed/torture table and prep my materials. I get a big warm bowl of soapy water and some rubbing alcohol ( I told you, *really* freaking clean ) and a  handful of q-tips. I start by pouring the warm soapy water into my belly button while I lay flat on the towel with my fists clenched at my sides. I count to 60 then turn onto my side to let it flow out. I repeat 2-3 times and then one final time with clear warm water. 

Break for more booze.

After the last rinse out I pour a cap full of rubbing alcohol into my belly button and dip in the q-tip. I rub the q-tip all up in that bitch while I weep (mostly) silent tears of pain. I do this only once, maybe twice if I feel I can handle it. Then I cap that bottle up and roll onto my side and sit there with a raw belly button and a mix of relief at having finished...and dread knowing I have to do it again in seven days.

I'm not exactly normal. 

So my letter L is for lint, and my extreme aversion to it living in my belly button. Shut your faces, it counts!

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Hehe..guess what I have for the letter K!

KANGAROO BALLS! Ninja Kelly went to Australia and brought me back a Kangaroo ballsack that was made into a fucking coin purse.

I love my friends, and now I can also say I love my ballsack. I can also say I sniffed a Kangaroo ballsack.

Hehe. I'm immature.

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Japan

Of course my letter J is going to be for Japan, I freakin' adore this country. My boys have come to think of Japan as home, especially my oldest. I think it's because he is finally in a place where it's okay for men to be feminine.

Picture is relevant, my son loves playing with my make up. 

My son is eight years old. He likes Pokemon, Bakugan, wrestling with his father and enjoys bowling. He also likes to wear my make up, paint his nails, loves the color pink and has a huge collection of fluffy cute stuffed animals. He sings along to PonPonPon, writes adorable poems about ladybugs, runs around in kitty ears and sparkly neck bells. One of his favorite things to do is to go along with me and get a pedicure, then go pick out pretty fake nails to wear. He prefers choir and origami over football and soccer, and is very sensitive. He doesn't handle criticism well (to be fair, who does?), and he's more likely to take harsh words to heart. In my eyes he is a happy, healthy, thriving little boy. To others his age, he's an easy target.

 During our brief stay stateside earlier this year he attended a local public school. It was a disaster. He'd come home crying because the boys made fun of him for carrying around his favorite Usa-Chan backpack, he stopped painting his nails because he didn't want to be teased. He refused to wear his pink polo or invite classmates to our home unless I hid all of his stuffed animals. He was miserable and experiencing peer pressure for the first time in his life. As a mother you want to do all you can to shield your children from the cruel outside world, but you know you can't. All you can do is try to keep a positive attitude and reassure your child that it is okay to be different. For my son, it was extremely difficult. He started to get depressed and didn't want to go outside as often. When the time came for me to have to make the decision to come back to Japan, his experience and behavior helped me to seal the deal. While it is incredibly important to allow your child the freedom to learn to be themselves, I firmly believe that if you can help them to be more comfortable then you should jump at the chance to do so. Whether by moving, counseling or helping your child to pack up his stuffed animals and hide them away.

So we came back to Japan with bells on our toes. The change in my son was almost immediate, it was almost as if it was all a bad dream for him. Within days he had Usa-Chan back on his back. Why not, his best (male) friend has a panda one! He was painting his nails with the girls outside, and coordinated with two of his (male) friends to wear beaded bracelets to school. The bracelets were pink, red, green and had heart beads.

I'm not saying Japan is perfect, or that the USA is totally intolerant of males acting in a feminine way. I've just come to realize that for my son, living in a country where males can embrace the kawaii (cute),  is a good thing for him. At least for right now he can feel comfortable in his own skin. Sure, their is the odd kid who teases or tries to bully him, but for the most part he's among friends. 

Usa Chan!

He also loves Anime, Cosplay and conventions. That's kinda my fault :)

For your enjoyment, his favorite song!

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