Redneck Diva, you're a bad American

I feel kind of guilty for promptly turning my TV off at 8:00 this evening. I love W., don't get me wrong, but I am just not that politically enthused. Politickin' was fun when my uncle was running for state representative and we were wearing T-shirts and passin' out snowcones at the fair, but that's about as far as I go with the whole politics thing in general. I vote, I gotta give myself that. At least I don't COMPLETELY suck at being an American. But the prospect of sitting there watching our President talk about the state of the union, our great nation, just makes me start yawning. I guess I really am a bad American - I feel like hey, I'm protected, I'm free, I'm able to worship, believe and speak however I so choose, my kids are free and happy and healthy and I'll just sit here in my warm, cozy home and be all kinds of oblivious. Yep, bad American.

Poor husband was asleep before the previews for next week's all new episode of Lost came on, bless his heart. I shuffled children to the back of the house, turned off the TV, tucked in 3 very tired kiddos, poured myself a glass of tea and headed out here to the computer. It's now 9:41 and here I sit still. I haven't done anything cataclysmic or even really all that fun. Checked all my blogs, even the ones I don't get to hit each and every day, did some business research, did some financing research and thought that I should post something on here. Yet strangely, I couldn't think of much to say.

Okay...so you got my bad American schpiel. I chronicled the events of the past hour and 45 minutes at my computer....yep, that's pretty much it.

I'm chatting with my friend, Stacie, while I type this. We hardly ever get to chat anymore. We went to the movies awhile back and that was the first time we'd seen each other in ages. We're friends, yet we don't hang anymore. Is this what happens when you get old? If it is, I don't like it. I mean, I love her and we're still good friends, but we just don't hang out anymore. And is it sad that I'm 32 and saying "hanging out"?

Sigh

It snowed today. It was really pretty, snowed hard several different times. But the temp hung right around 32,33 degrees all day. Tonight there is no snow. Just mud. Now we have the typical Oklahoma, post-snow mud hole that we call "our yard".

Tomorrow's Brownies. We're having a Brownie/Mom slumber party on Friday night, which I'm really looking forward to. The girls are gonna have a blast, I'm sure. So tomorrow night's meeting will be deciding what badges we're going to work on and complete at the party, what kind of pizza we all want and hopefully someone will bring pediatric sedatives for the children. After midnight, this mom/Brownie leader goes all to shit quick. Plus I get cranky. They wouldn't like me when I'm angry. We are renting Mulan 2, though...and I'm excited about that. Mulan is the ultimate girl power chick.

During the slumber party, the boys are being excommunicated to my sister's house for a night of karate class, followed by The Karate Kid. Sam is so excited about it he can hardly handle it. Poor Uncle Bubba is going to have to endure The Karate Kid...that guy deserves a medal. I'm not sure what my husband is going to do to entertain himself. He's already announced he will not be partaking in the Karate Kid festival. He sure ain't allowed here, though. He'd be shoved back out the door by 5 giggling, squealing Brownies and a 3-year-old who has repeatedly informed him that "You are a boy. You are NOT coming to the flumber party." Yeah. Put that in your testosterone-filled pipe and smoke it, big boy - you're not invited to the flumber party!

Speaking of my weird husband... Sunday is the Super Bowl. Or so I'm told. I'm not a football fan, obviously. Neither is Mr. Diva either. One of the casinos is supposedly going to have the Hooter girls at their Super Bowl party. The man has no desire to see neither the Super Bowl nor the Hooter girls. What's wrong with this picture??? Now, if they were hosting a skeet shoot, fart contest, and givin' away nudie girl mud flaps, plus giving out free Copenhagen, trucker hats and the Hooter girls were outfitted in hunter orange and camo, he'd be all over it. But alas...they're not. And he likes boobies! Why can't he just go sit there and look at the boobies all night? He doesn't have to watch the football! I just don't get it.

Of course, I have no desire to see the Chippendales. They're going to be at the Big Fancy Casino this Monday night. Naked, shaved, shiny pretty boys...nope. I just don't get it.

Oops, the smoke detector just went off. Did not EVEN wake up the kids. Pissed husband off, though. Pissed him off that it was going off and I didn't yank the battery out. Hello - I'm 5'2"! Like I'm going to be able to reach the ceiling! He said something nasty about me being on the (expletive) computer. Wouldn't matter if I was mopping, baking or cleaning the toilet, darling. I still can't reach the smoke detector.

Okay, now he's throwing things around because I'm still on the (expletive) computer. That's my cue to exit Stage Honey I'm Sorry I Can't Reach the Ceiling.