Ugh.

So last night I went out with some friends. It was one of those get out of the house quickly, real quick, before someone notice's their sippy cup is empty, or asks where the clean underwear is. After checking out my backside to make sure the Play-Doh stain wasn't too noticeable, I ran. Really fast.
We went to the new fondue place in Bricktown, The Melting Pot. Now, I have been to this place before, with the same group of girls, and we collectively named it the fon-don't place. But, because we are used to being called names and ordered around our houses all day, by people that think quality television is a made up of a group of three classroom pets with speech problems, we didn't learn the first time we were treated badly and charged too much to cook our own food.
I mean really, $28 for two small pots of cheese. While I am well aware that I am cheap, and my dead, equally cheap, grandmother cries real tears from heaven, because she knows I could have single handedly supported an entire family of 8 during The Depression. I am not too cheap to realize when high prices are appropriate for good food. There are many restaurants around town that I have willing paid high prices for. (By willingly, I mean I checked the tab over a few times, because that waitress seemed just a little too nice, and those nice ones always over charge me for something).
I know that to have a good restaurant there must be a paid chef and quality ingredients. Two things The Melting Pot is missing. The whole meal is based on the customer cooking their own meal. The meats they give are not the highest of quality, and although I have not recently checked the market price for tempura batter and vegetable oil, I am pretty sure that it's not. that. much.
Don't even get me started on the cubes of bread, carrots, cauliflower, and celery, oh yes, celery, they give you to dip in cheese. And we all know that the only thing back in the kitchen is a bunch of pimple faced teenagers, discussing the best way to get drunk faster, or stay high longer. Because it takes no special training to chop bread and chicken and grate cheese.
Lastly, the wait staff. Ugh, I am sure others may disagree, but both times I have been, it has been terrible. My water glass should never be empty three times. And I am pretty sure the manager should not spent her entire night sitting at the bar.
So in my best high school report I have to say....
In conclusion, I feel like The Melting Pot is a gimmick and I find it much more enjoyable to eat fondue at home or someone else's house, where you can get cheese on your chin and the only person to to be mad at, because your drink is empty, is your husband.

Thawing Out

Well, I do love me some winter, but I am not to sad to finally be released from ice prison. If I slipped, sprinkled ice melt, chipped at ice, or spun my tires one more time, I was gonna'...well I don't know what I would have done, but it might have been bad.
I would post some pictures but my husband never bought me that little thingy that plugs into the computer to download pictures. I have tried to boycott blogging, but he could have cared less, so here I am again, pictureless.
I am, however, looking forward to the fantastic sex toy party I am hosting this weekend. I will make sure to get pics of that!

Happy New Year

Well ring in the new year, I'm ready for it.
In recent news, as if there is anyone in the free world who I haven't told, Don passed the Professional Engineering test. He is now a real life, look at me, I know how to build a bridge, civil engineer. He gets his own stamp and everything. This is really big for him, and now, thankfully, he gets to feel important. Well, at least at work, because I am pretty sure people listen to him there, and he gets to have an opinion about basic day to day operations.
Not that his thoughts and opinions aren't needed/listened to around here, because not everyone in this house gets to decide how to expertly hide the TV cords along the wall, or... which cleaner to use to get the mouse pee off the floor under the stove.
In all seriousness I am very proud of him, he studied his ass off for his P.E., and deserves every bit of that little stamp of his.

Most things have calmed down legally on the brother homefront, and that is good news for everyone. Mostly for him.

We are looking for a new house and think we may have found the perfect one. And today I had to do something I never wanted to do, something I hope to never have to do again. I let a gay man go through my house and tell me what was wrong with it. I guess mold along the base of the bathtub is not good for sales. Whatever. Among other things that embarrassed me, was when Chuck told me that he would come over and help me organize the shelves in the dinning room. The shelves, the shelves?! You mean the fucking shelves I spent two hours on last night organizing, trying to impress him with my keen sence of style. Whatever.

My friend Kristin is preggers again. She is due sometime in August, and I would love to share what week she is in, but she told me she was pregnant the day after she concieved, so who the hell knows. By now it seems like she may be 5 months. Good luck to you girl, and may that baby keep you up all night and give you all the crap you gave your momma!

I am having a sex toy party later this month,I have invited both my mom and Don's mom, but got a stern no from my mother. What a prude. But Don's mom is always one for a party and I know will wear her penis decorated necklace with pride. Ashli and I have decided to become OKC consultants for the comany! Ha. Who needs a real job when you can sell dildos to drunk girls eating penis shaped jello?

Here is to a new year, with much less drama, please.