Legacy

Being as we never know when our final day on earth will be, and being as I was pondering my last post that I made, I decided I didn't want that post to be my legacy, should anything happen to me, such as a toilet falling from the sky and landing on me or being run over by a stampede of wild lynx.

What is my legacy? That's easy. My husband, my five children, and now #6 on the way. My children are my shining glory. They are SUCH .... GOOD..... KIDS. I really, truly could not ask for better and I'm so fucking proud of them.

And my husband, my best friend and my soulmate, Brian. He is the kindest, most sincere, most giving, amazing person I know. He is my inspiration and my true love.

Hopefully another small part of my legacy is that I made others around me happier than before they knew me or were with me. Hopefully others gain some joy from me just being me. If they don't (and I'm quite certain there are those who don't) then oh well. I am being the best person I know to be.

And hopefully, somewhere, somehow, I'm making a difference.

Vague, but true.

I continue to hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and believe in all things good and true. My family: they are ALL things good AND true.

Hate, Hope, Love

I hate feeling sick to my stomach all the time.

I hate feeling like the bad guy as a mom.

I hate the fucking drama that surrounds our hobby, my work and extended family. I'm fucking sick of it.

I hate stupid people that get their jollies off pushing other people's buttons. They are small-minded, insecure, hateful souls.

I hate that I have to post this anonymously where no one, not even my spouse, will probably read it; which really means I hate not having a voice that is heard.

I hate being misunderstood. I hate being unfairly perceived as something bad.

I hate the stress in my life right now. I hate being in pain constantly and I hate this fucking recession.

I hate being out of cigarettes. I hate that my kids don't know that I smoke and that I feel like I have to hide it, because it's the last and only thing that's truly hidden from them.

I hate it when I get negative like this. I really, really hate it.

I love my husband.

I love my kids.

I love the first cigarette of the day.

I love hope, because sometimes that's all you have to hold on to.

That little slip of paper with five or six numbers: Hope.

The promise of trying for another baby: Hope.

The phone call you know is coming any day now: Hope.

And while it may be that "The greatest of these is Love," Hope is a close second.

Why Evangelicalism HAS to go

Have you seen this yet? The big story yesterday was the hijacking of a AeroMexico airplane. Come to find out, the hijacker was a pastor. A PASTOR!

Why did he do it? I draw your attention to paragraph one of the news story:

The lone hijacker who briefly took control of a Mexican commercial jet Wednesday is an evangelical pastor who believed he was following divine commands to warn President Felipe Calderon of an impending earthquake...

At this point I'm thinking, "Okay... there are a few psychics out there that have impressed me. Perhaps, just maybe this particular gentleman DID get some sort of premonition from God or whomever is in charge of this mess called Earth, and felt desperate enough to hijack an airplane to get someone's attention. Let's read on:

Jose Marc Flores Pereira, 44, a Bolivian who has lived in Mexico for 17 years, told police he was spurred to give the warning Wednesday because its date — 09/09/09 — is the inverse of 666, which many believe to be the numerical sign of the Antichrist...

Oh god... here we go....

First of all, it's fairly common knowledge that the "sign of the Beast" was misinterpreted. It's not 666 as we have supposed all these years, but more than likely 616. Now I know Iron Maiden fans were not pleased with this discovery, and most Christians even less so, but facts are facts people. Look it up.

Secondly, what fucked up numerology (which is against the teachings of Evangelicalism) states that 9 is just as bad as 6 because it is the inverse? You would think that if we followed that train of thought out of the station, that 9 would be the GOOD number ... 6 being the evil one. I tell you, Evangelicalism messes with your brain to the point of no return.

Alright... moving on:

After failing to gain access to the cockpit of Aeromexico Flight 576 — flying from Cancun to Mexico City on Wednesday afternoon — Flores told pilots he had a bomb and ordered them to circle above the Mexican capital seven times. The pilots warned Flores that they didn't have enough fuel for that and convinced him to let them land the plane.

Now I did mention that Evangelicalism frowns upon numerology. Let me just add the disclaimer, "Unless it can be shoe-horned into an ideal that needs citation of some sort." This applies to any theology of the religion. Trust me on this one. Apparently, flying around the capital 7 times was supposed to magically ward off this impending earthquake.

Will an earthquake happen? Probably eventually, yes. What qualifies it as "impending?" Maybe anything within the next year?? I don't know, but I guaran-damn-tee you that when one DOES hit Mexico City, this pastor and a few other freaks will be crying, "See?!? The judgement of God has come!!"

Here's the real kicker. The dude didn't even have a bomb. He had a "fake bomb" fashioned out of tin cans.

Do they even MAKE tin cans anymore??

So there's my bitch and moan for the day. Kids, warn your parents. Parents, let your kids make up their own damned minds. And everyone, just play nice in the sandbox, okay? Stop judging, stop hijacking planes and for the love of everything holy, stop ramming your religious beliefs down my throat. I'm starting to gag over here.

Fireants and Gangrene

Okay.... I have something to bitch about today.

Fireants.

I really don't know what God was thinking on this one. They are the most prolific little shits to ever crawl the earth. They are tiny.... TINY, yet one bite will affect me for a minimum of a week and in one case, up to three years.

Yes, you read that right. Three years.

Actually, it's pushing four years now, but what happened is I was happily watching a parade one day, had my sandles on, and BAM! Got bit on the foot, right between the pinkie and, uhm, I guess that would be the "ring" toe. It burned and itched and swelled up something fierce. Several weeks later, my skin started peeling to the point that I've lost my pinkie toenail not once, but three times now (it's grown back each time, obviously.... don't get ahead of me here).

So, okay. Now I have what looks like gangrene on my left foot from one ant bite. Fine. Here's my real issue. These damn ants seem to find their way to wherever I am, be it inside or outside, and they bite me. But they don't just bite me anywhere..... Nooooooo...

Any guesses? That's right. They bite me on my left foot. And they bite me all in that same general area of the first bite; around the toes and more towards the pinkie toe than the big toe.

WHAT THE F%$K IS GOING ON?!?!?

I just got bit again this morning, for the upteenth time. I mean, it's bad enough that any sort of insect bite causes half my body to swell, but these ant bites are the WORST. And why must they always find my left foot? You'd think they'd want to mix it up a little bit and bit on the right foot for a change of pace.

If anyone has any ideas as to why this is happening, I'd love to hear 'em.

God, about that fireant thing? We gotta talk....

Just who is Le Chic du Bitch?

Well first off, I'm not really a bitch. Sure, I can have my bitchy moments, but so can my husband... so there you have that.

I'm a wife, a mother, a business woman and artist. I choose to blog because sometimes you just have to bitch and moan.

Will all my blogs be bitchy or moany? Naw. I'm not a complete pessimist. But I will definitely use this blog as a sounding board. There will be no particular topic or genre, except that of life, perhaps. My blogs will cover the full range of issues from police officers to kids to ghosts and probably even some sex thrown in for good measure.

So please, feel free to chime in; but most of all, enjoy.

-Le Chic du Bitch