The Zany Housewife and crew

English majors/teachers turn your heads I’m about to ignore proper grammar and punctuation…

One day I met this guy who knocked me off of my feet (okay, spoiler alert,  that was AFTER he convinced me to marry him and knocked me down running away from an angry skunk). A couple of years later he asked me to marry him (in a very casual “let’s do this thing” kind of way). I get pregnant and tell him by throwing the pee stick at him whilst hysterically laughing (pregnancy, according to my doctors was not in the cards. So I thought I would end up adopting neurotic parrots who swore like my dearly departed grandmother) one minute and crying the next. Two days past due, I gave birth to a tiny human I refer to on this blog as “Resident Munchkin.”

Anywho, I became a stay at home mom/klutzy housewife. Which is funny since no one ever taught me how to cook.  I failed Home-Ec. My mom (aka the Mothership) randomly cooked things but I was more interested in Agatha Christie murder mysteries and listening to Tori Amos than actually learning how to make beef stroganoff (which is still one of THE worst things ever created). I blame my love of food and cooking/baking now on Nigella Lawson. I saw her show one day after moving away from home and I've been food-obsessed ever since. Okay back to the story…

Fast forward to last year (2011) where I discover that the husband does not in fact want to be married. It turns out marriage and family was a little too stifling. Which brings us to current day (2012 and counting) where I have re-entered the work force as a Zany temp and am my own housewife. I cook and clean and always say “thank you” (no I don’t) to myself. 

I have a tendency on this blog to take crappy pictures, swear like dearly departed grandmother one minute and then try to compensate for it the next minute, ramble on and on with no rhyme or reason, and reference movies from seventy years ago. I met someone my age yesterday that had never seen Gone With The Wind. I had to stop myself from smacking him, asking him the name and location of his parents, going to their house and smacking them. Sidebar- I smack a lot of people in my mind. Including myself.  Because I’m kind of a schmuck.  

I’m obsessed with birds (there was this one time I jumped off the carport and tried to fly. I failed and landed a nice scar on my knee), Lucille Ball (who DOESN'T love Lucy? No really, who are you, so I can smack you), my child (sorry, you've been warned, although I will make a solid effort not to be overly sappy on here), French fries, pickles, Tom Selleck and his mustache, homesteading, and other random things. And there are many.

I dislike when people say “hymnatize” instead of “hypnotize.”  I also hate spiders. I kill them. And I have this annoying habit of saying “Sorry!” when I do it though. Except for mosquitoes. I never apologize. I’m not down with encephalitis.

And that’s it.

Oh and p.s. If you happen to know my real name, keep it to yourself please. Or else I may have to send an angry flock of parakeets your way.

And now I’m done. 

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