Days of Grace 46: Weekend Goodness Recap

The weekend was full of goodness. Everything from a night chatting with my dear friend Ex around a bonfire (sometimes in the general drudgery of living and raising kids we forget that we actually like spending time together) to a cold windy soccer game to winterizing the garden. The highlight of the weekend though was definitely the corn maze. The Family Von Sass joined the Buffett Clan for the time honored Fall tradition of finding the perfect pumpkin and other silliness.

And introducing:

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BUFFET

Sassy Gets Real

Some of you might be operating under the misconception that living the life of Sassy is all glamore and crazy hot sex. Sadly, today I'm here to set the record straight. Officially, I do more than just have crazy hot sex and it's not always glamorous.



Exhibit 1-
Not sex and not glamorous
The House of Sass has been under a severe financial crunch of late. Ok, Ok, fine, that's complete crap. We've been in a fucking financial catastrophe and it has robbed me of my sanity, my smile, my sleep and my sassitude. In short, I have been in a very dark bad place.
I won't be shitting rainbows but things will get better soon. I had to burn my pride at the stake and go to my parents for a loan. They generously agreed to help. They assured me that I'm not a failure and that the economy is telling everyone to grab their ankles in one form or another. Things are still going to be tight but I will at least be making ends meet and I'm going to allow myself to be proud of that.



Exhibit 2-
About sex (sorta) but definitely not glamorous or hot.
No, definitely NOT HOT!
My parents came over for dinner last night and somehow the conversation went from hemorrhoids to anal sex. I had a conversation with my parents and my children at my dinner table, while eating cherry pie, about double dipping. Y'all are dying for an invitation to my house now, aren't you? While the talk was disturbing, my mother's facial expressions were down right horrifying. Every time a conversation comes up about things related to the arse, the bung hole, the sphincter, the crapper, my mom makes a face. It's a fish face. But, BUTT...
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Please note the pen. I cannot cross my eyes without help and even then the results are rather sucktastic. That either means I'm brilliant or a complete fucking moron. I'm not sure which.







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The Crapper Outtakes...

Days of Grace: 45

I'm going to make this short and sweet because I have precisely 4.7 minutes of free time to eat my lunch, pee and get a post up today. You all are of course a much higher priority than peeing.

It's Monday, Thank You Jesus and his second cousin Rufus. I haven't seen Buffett in over a week due to scheduling conflicts, children, sporting events and a minivacation. So tonight we'll be curling up on his couch and cheering on the Packers as they completely DESTROY Brett Farve. We might also be doing a few other things. Maybe.

To give you all a little Monday giggle (as opposed to a little slap and tickle), I did have the opportunity to pee earlier this morning before all hell broke loose in my office but it was complicated. Typically you undo a belt, unbutton, unzip and drop 'em. Mine didn't drop and I was quite confused. UNTIL I remembered that I'm wearing suspenders today under my jacket. Yeah, shaddup. Work might just be destroying the few brain cells I have left. Paying the bills is a good thing. Gray matter oozing out of my ear because OMGWhyWon'tMahPantsFallDown is probably bad.

OK OK OK, my Grace Moment happened yesterday evening. All day long I could not figure out why my jeans were fitting weird. They weren't too tight. They weren't too big. They were just fitting oddly. Cupping more in the butt and less in the waist. When I took them off I noticed the tag. They were Thing1's jeans. I fit my ass into the jeans of my skinny as a bean pole 13 year old son! I have been feeling so good about myself, my body and my health lately but little reinforcements like this are like great big cotton candy kisses from midget wrestlers. In other words, if fucking rocked!

Midget 'fro, it's hawt y'all.

Days of Grace 44: Thing2

My dearest Thing2

It has been such a good year. You are at that perfect age, that blissful sweet spot somewhere between uncontrollable child and asshole teenager. I want to soak in your energy and exuberance. I want to wrap up your innocense and protect it with my last breath. You make me laugh so hard my sides ache. You bring me more joy than I ever knew was possible.

When people ask me about you I still struggle to find the words. Without writing a book with pages and pages of quotes, stories and pictures, nothing seems adequate. You refuse to be put in a box that defines you. You are so incredibly smart but absolutely love to speak with atrocious grammar just to watch me twitch. You torment the ever loving hell out of your brother but truthfully want nothing more than to just hang out with him. You are a fierce competitor and the most generous and giving human being I have ever known. Still filled with childlike wonder over silly little things and yet wanting to be older and cool; I'm watching you shift and change before my eyes. I love to see you grapple with big issues and put them into perspective, to swallow the deeper meanings of people's actions and come back with a mature, adult understanding. I love to listen to you disolve into gleeful giggles over a fart joke. Pride doesn't even begin to encompass the huge emotion that tries to burst from my chest when I think of you.

Happy 12th Birthday Thing2! My baby, my little man, My Sunshine.

Wordless Wednesday - I love that twinkle in your eye

Word-less Monday - Milwaukee Edition

Not to be confused with wordless Wednesday, which is completely void of Words; word-less Monday means there will be LESS words. - Maybe.


My weekend in Milwaukee was a visual treat and I left my big fancy camera at home. Damn me! I did however steal my son's little pocket sized camera and got a handful of decent shots while wandering the city (I'll put those up later). Unfortunately, the night of the concert, I left the little camera at the hotel. Damn me again! My cell phone camera was NOT up to the task and so the pictures are dark blurry and grainy. But, I got to see Jack Daniels, for realz - we did shots together and he totally sipped them like a gurl!


And a Rhino

(It's there, I promise. A life sized paper mache plastic aluminum solid hologram not fleshy rhino that almost horned me as I walked around the corner. Yes, beer was involved but that doesn't change the facts. Life size rhino horns are the equivalent of sniffing awesome laced with holy shit straight out of the jar.)
Also, I may or may not have sat on a man's ginormous head.

Unfortunately you cannot see me sitting on him because when I may or may not have done that, an old guy in green suspenders started yelling at me for being inappropriate with the giant head. But I ask you, is there any way to be appropriate with a giant head? It's a GIANT HEAD for crying out loud. There is no such thing as appropriate in the presence of that. Can. Not. be done. I dare you to try it. You'd be sitting on his face just like I was. ..or wasn't?

Wordless Wednesday - Only not really

This is what I have finally decided I want as my second tattoo. It's a Phoenix. Not a manly sharp edgy Phoenix but a soft curvy but strong Phoenix. A Bursting into flames and then rising out of the ashes in glorious beauty Phoenix - only to do it again and again and again Phoenix. A crash and burn and pick your sorry ass up and start over Phoenix.

Unfortunately, the picture is small. I'd like it to be a little bit bigger but when I blow it up it gets all blurry. I want it on my hip, with a vine wrapped around it that is descending from the other tattoo on my back (Picasso's dove with an olive branch). So, it's still a work in progress. I am not an artist and until I get this figured out the tattoo will have to wait. I suppose that is OK since I'm supposed to go with my friend Laura who isn't allowed to get a tattoo until a certain amount of time after her surgery this summer. It took me years to figure out what I wanted for my first tattoo. It had to have some kind of meaning for me. It does. This one will too.

Are any of you all bad-ass sketchy? Got ideas for me? I'll send pictures of my current tattoo to give you a better idea of where I'm coming from. HELP!

**** Also, I'm starting my detox tomorrow. I'm nervous. What if my ass shoots flames? My dog's hair might catch on fire. And while that might seem like a lovely tribute the the late Michael, I'm just not into bald dogs. Bald men? Check. Bald Pussy? Check. Bald Poop Eating Puppies? Not so much.

Boggle

She was putting her make-up on... ON THE BUS!!!!



What the hell?
Sadly, the make-up really didn't help her all that much.

p.s. I just gave my son permission to eat a bag of popcorn for breakfast this morning because there is nothing in my house to eat. Nothing. Mom of the year right here!

Sometimes a mourning soul only needs a splash of light to brighten its dark corners…

My splash of light came in the form of a college boy with a gigantic zit on his ass.

The ass zit. Come on admit it. We’ve all had one. And if you are going to tell me that you’ve never had one then I am immediately going to take you off of my “invite over for a fantastic alcohol saturated Partay!” list. However, I probably won’t take you off of my “do dirty naughty things to” list. Because if you have never actually had an ass zit then you are either very very clean or have no pours. And let’s face it; someone who has no pours is probably into some really kinky shit.

I was standing on a corner waiting for traffic to clear when I saw him. The albino boy running down the street was the nerdiest of nerdy you can imagine. His hair was so white it was almost clear. He was skinny to the point of awkward ganglyness. As he passed me I had to notice that his shorts just were not keeping up their end of the cover-my-ass bargain. Of course, working on campus, ass crack just isn’t something to get worked up over. There are nubile 20somethings crawling all over the place letting their southern smile shine upon the world. It’s just a fact. Hell, walking past one of the many lawns there are almost always a dozen girls sunning themselves, lying on their stomachs with their bikini tops undone. When you get a regular dose of side boob, ass crack just doesn’t even register on the holy crap meter. I mean, how can it? Side Boob. It’s a lovely thing after along day of work. But, butt! This particular butt was sporting a zit the size of my big toe and in the midst of my sadness, this was the funniest thing I had ever seen.

While laughing (quietly – I do have a tiny shred of tact that keeps me in check on occasion) I was joined by another young man who was just as amused as I was. Waiting for traffic and bonded by our chuckles we started up a conversation that eventually led us to get ice cream by the lake. It was nice but it was also other worldly uncomfortable and embarrassing. When in the hell did 17 year olds get so damn confident and cocky? And when in the name of buddha did they get so freaking hot? Yes, the thoughts of jail time and someone’s mom beating me with a wooden spoon interrupted my thoughts of eating him up with a spoon. Lordy lordy. That boy had the perfect V shaped body that only exists before the age of 22.

He had low slung jeans that perfectly fit his ass-ets. And I swear to Moses he knew all the dirty (illegal, holy fucking crap, jail bait) thoughts that were skipping across my mind. He liked it too. The child was flirting with me and took every chance he could to touch my arm or put his hand on my back. He was giving me the look of “I know you like what you see.” Since when did 17 year olds get that kind of knowldege? It was completely unnerving. If he had been sweet or obnoxiously cocky it would have been much easier to stay focused on him being a one way ticket to striped jumpsuits. No one looks good in full body stripes. No One. But he was calm and sure and scarily easy to talk to. He was funny and flirty and hitting on me. It was not my old lady sex-deprived imagination either. When we were finishing up our creamy dessert, heh, he mentioned that he would be on campus for the weekend and asked if he could have my number so we could hang out. So we could get to know each other better. Now, it’s been a long as time since I’ve been on the hook-up scene but I’m pretty fucking sure he didn’t mean over a game of checkers and a bedtime story. Not unless that bedtime story included a real bed and no pajamas. I declined and then I took my dirty old lady ass back to the office. But still, there’s nothing like ass zits and the attention of a living breathing Abercrombie and Fitch picture to brighten your day.

No Ass Zits There!

Days of Grace 35.5

I forgot a song...

It just makes me happy.

Also the fantastic IllBAMotherFucker sent me these to start off my weekend right. You totally get me, IBAMF. Much love and lots of hot wet kisses.

It's like he's looking up to me to save him from the pain. I'll save you Ryan. Let Sassy save you.

Class, an exotic accent, come fuck me eyes... mmmm

I love a bunny with curves.

This man needs to take his shirt off more however, I have to admit that he can make me wet with that smile alone. It's that rugged... something. Just WOW.

I don't know who he is, but he's bringing me flowers so it's all good. Dude, lose the pony tail.

Hot and ... and nothing. There's nothing more to say than OMFG HOT!

And finally; The most beautiful woman ever. EVER.

p.s. IBAMF, get a blog man. You crack my shit up!

Have a fantastic Memorial Day Weekend Everyone.

Mother of the year...

This is probably NOT what the Wedding Rings guy had in mind when he asked me to talk about his gorgeous loveley wonderful rings...


Thing1 still has the ring. (I however do not have pictures because until 3 days ago he thought he had lost the ring and that I would be mad because the Wedding Rings guy would be mad and make me pay eleventy kajillion dollars for not posting more pictures of the ring. Then, the ring was found. Hoorah.*) Last night, while out to dinner, Thing1's uncle noticed the ring and being the wonderful smart ass that he is (love him! ~ Hi Matty!) asked "Who are you married to?" To which Thing1 quickly responded: My Right Hand. I do not know whether he made the comment knowing full well what he was implying or if it took seeing his father and uncle's faces turning purple from laughter for him to realize what he had done. I don't think I like 13 anymore.

Not to be outdone, Thing2 proudly told his uncle (again, Hi Matty. Are you going to let me babysit your offspring some day?) that last week I hit him in the balls and made his tooth fall out. SIGH. OK, OK, while factual, my lovely Thing was being a bit misleading. The tooth was one we have been waiting to fall out. It was one the orthodontist was watching very carefully. It was hanging on by a spit thread. I did not knock out one of his firmly held teeth. Also, the balls were actually ONE ball. It was my big exercise ball that he was holding in his general ball region while seranading his brother with ACDC's Big Balls. I walked by mid-concert and while rolling my eyes, gave the thing a pop. This apparently startled my son so much his mouth closed quickly and the tooth broke loose. See, it's really not as bad as it originally sounded. No need to call CPS, I swear!

*I did not and will not receive any form of monetary compensation for pimping out Superior Wedding Rings. They sent me the ring and if I loved it, I would talk about it. I am not the one wearing it but I do still love it. It is regularly abused like only a 13 year old boy can do and there's not a scratch on it. It is shiny and gorgeous.


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No Sex For 90 Days

Saturday night I had a date. The kind where you actually get dressed up and he opens the car door for you. This man is such a gentleman and treats me like a princess. He took me to a $50 a plate (that was low end) steakhouse which I found amusing because each time we have gone out before I have picked little kitchy places like East African food where our total tab including a couple drinks rarely topped $30. I'm not complaining. It was nice, I'm just not typically that girl. It did feel wonderful to be that girl for a night though. After dinner we went to the comedy club. Having told him to get reservations about 37 times, he followed through and made sure we had seats. We were right up front but not directly under the stage. It was perfect. Since we had extra time before the party began, we started chatting with two other women who were at our table. Eventually the conversation came around to Date and I. Were we a couple? As his hand moved possessively to mine I coughed and said well, you know, we've been out a few times... Then came the dating advice. The best? "Don't sleep with a man until you've been dating for at least 90 days."

Ahahahaha! No, really, I was tearing up from laughing so hard. I wasn't laughing at her though, I was laughing at Date. He looked like he had swallowed his tongue. He looked like he had a family pack of condoms in his pocket. He looked like someone just turned his favorite pink pony into glue. And THAT cracked my ass up. Until it irritated me. But then the comedians came on and I was back to laughing so hard I was snotting on the table. Cleveland was the feature. He was talking about the perils of married life. How his father gave him advice saying if you find a woman who laughs at what you laugh at and likes women as much as you, you will forever be a happy man. Date then leaned over and said 50% isn't bad. To which I started snorting and laughing again because, well YOU know. He was at 50% just not the 50 he thought. Poor guy. The headliner was Pat Godwin. He has been on Bob and Tom and I swear to Moses if you ever get the chance to see him it will be like an orgasm wrapped in chocolate, or bacon, or maybe even chocolate and bacon.

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Anyway, my point was that the irritation was gone, washed away with snorting laughter. UNTIL Date brought me home and stood on my door step obviously expecting something. I sent him on his way, not because I believe in the whole 90 day thing but because I just didn't want him. That should have been a big clue for me. I tend to be a passionate and physical person. If at this point I was not thinking about wanting him then I'm more than likely never going to get to that point. He just isn't... oh hell, I don't know what he isn't because there are so many good things that he is. But whatever that magical thing is that makes my panties wet. He isn't. The following morning he was all "do we need to talk" and "didn't like what you didn't say" and "I really want our future to be together but you have to let me in." Ummm, huh? We kind of talked through that. The very same evening he texted me to ask how my night was. I was at a friend's house and did not respond. Not 15 minutes later he was texting me with "what? no response? you're going to be like that?" At that point there was no way in hell I was going to respond. Bite me ass hat. In talking with Amy I told her that I was getting a possessive "I own you" vibe and I said that I just didn't think I would work well with that kind of guy. Her response was something along the lines of OMFG! THE EARTH WOULD END! So, there is that. I don't think I'll be seeing him again.

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Of course, I worked in sales for years so I know all about building up your pipeline... LocalGuy and I are talking on the phone a lot. If it weren't for the fact that he tried to chew my lips off when we kissed, I think I'd be really excited to see him again. I have a blind date next week with a guy AMY says is perfect for me. Totally my type. (Since I thought possessive guy was my type- until he got possessive, I'm not really sure anymore but I'm going to trust her. She picked Todd and that man is Hotness wrapped in perfection topped with whipcream and a cherry. (Hi Todd, thanks again for the floors) So she's got great taste.

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Here's me in my LBD:

P.s. Go visit Amy and comment and tell her to write something already. You will love her as soon as she gets her technologically challenged butt in gear. Also, she sells an amazing make up and skin care line that you'll want to know all about. This woman has stories that make be blush. Tune in, I promise you won't be disappointed!

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Wordless Wednesday #2

This Wordless Wednesday is one giant orgasmic thank you to Mom-O-Matic. Go read her...

And then go buy her.

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Wordless Wednesday #1

This wordlessness was inspired by my cyber crush Stacie who has been rocking some fantastic photos lately.

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Wordless OMFGday!

Thank you to Bloggess over at Good Mom Bad Mom for totally making my day!

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Wordless Wednesday - Dancing in the rain