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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: Shit

In anticipation to The Great BM, I decided that I’ll post some realizations that I have each day about how life will change around the NewCommando household. I know life will certainly become more complicated and challenging with our modern-day Brady Bunch dynamic, but I’m talking about the little things. The tiny details that directly affect ME and how I do MY normal everyday things.

Internet time

Our entire relationship has evolved on the internet. At least we knew each other in real life before we became an online sensation. But a lot of our interaction has been public. In blog comments, re-hashed text messages, and facebook conversations, the world (you mofos) has had a peek into our friendship. I see that part of us coming to an end. Soon, we will LIVE together. (SEVEN!!!) We won’t have to comment and poke and banter online and in public where peoples may know. Not like we have to do it now, but we just do.

But what about MY morning facebook time? Every once in a great while, I have a couple of hours when I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. I get to have incredibly inappropriate and awesome conversations with my step-brother-in-law about the significance of the number seven. Oddly enough, Brandi sometimes has mornings that she doesn’t have other stuff to do, and SHE is on facebook too. I realized this morning, that if there are hours when both of us has nothing else to do WE WON’T BE ON FACEBOOK. Now is when you allow your imagination to wander.

But there’s more. I am kind of the kind of person who likes to be fully participating in conversations with people when they are in front of me. I don’t like it when we are chillin and you have your phone out and are texting unless it’s actually important. Don’t be doing shit on your phone when WE are supposed to be spending time together. HUGE PET PEEVE!!!!  Also, I refuse to be one of those people who is sitting next to their mate and on separate computers and having conversations about shit and commenting on each other’s shit on facebook while they’re together!!!! Maybe we should just combine facebook accounts. Brandianne Teixeira Douglass sounds horrible. BM Douglass Teixeira? Eh, better I guess.

NOT!!!!

The point is, I will force her to have to sneak to the bathroom and get online while she’s taking a shit. Which we all know she won’t do because, ew. GERMS!!! That’s how all of you will know she’s in the bathroom. When you see Brandi on facebook, it means she is using the bathroom. Because otherwise, I will be monopolizing her time by making her hold my hand and gaze into my eyes and kiss me.

Yes, you read that right.

HER ONLY REPRIEVE FROM GIVING ME HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION IS TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. 

That’s totally normal, isn’t it?

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I just realized that I’m ovulating. OUCH! My left ovary is hurting. Its a weird feeling.

Know what’s also weird? I’m falling apart. Like, I have piles of undone shit all over my room. Other shit needs to get done, but I can’t get it together enough to do ANYTHING.

Why? I was on top of the world in January. I had my shit together in January, and now, I’m all fucked up. It’s actually quite overwhelming. The suck thing is that there are 8 million things to do and I sit here, looking around, trying to figure out which one to do first. But, instead of actually doing something, I pace from pile to pile or task to task accomplishing nothing because all of them are important and I can’t figure out which one to just DO. Then I feel like a loser because- goddamn! Why can’t I just be productive? And THIS is the source of my lack of motivation and blah. So now what?

It’s annoying. And the minutes are ticking by. And in a couple more hours, my kids will be home and then I can forget about everything else because they need food and rides and directions. I’d better go.

 

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**8,000,000 points to the person who can tell me what T.V. show that line came from.**

OK. So, this text conversation really happened today. And while I was relating it to Mr. T, I realized that it makes for great blogging. Here goes:

(names have been changed to protect the innocent)

ANONYMOUS PERSON: Oh god, a woman just shit on the floor in walmart. I’m going to puke.

ME: Eeeeeeew!!!!

AP: She was running for the bathroom and didn’t make it. It ran down her leg. I’m stuck in line. I’m trapped and I’m seriously trying not to puke.

ME:Uh uh. Maybe just leave.
ME: Fuckit

AP: Reason #762 why the elderly should be euthanized.
AP: I’m next. And I need the melatonin or my kid will never sleep tonight.

ME: Go to fucking rite aid. Or puke. Whatever. I don’t care. I’m not standing in Walmart looking at someone’s shit
ME: Gross. Take a picture.
ME:  And post it.

AP: I’m not taking a picture of shit. They were cleaning it up, which is the only reason I didn’t run out of there. But it might be a month before I can eat again.

ME: Good. You have put on an extra couple of pounds. A little fasting couldn’t hurt. 😉

AP: Kiss my ass.

 

I couldn’t make this stuff up! Thanks AP for helping me write my blog. You are the best! 😉

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This shit is intimate. This blogging shit. You people know what I mean.

The filter is off when I sit down to blog. It’s in another dimension when I blog after I’ve had a drink or two. Occasionally I’ll censor what I say on here. If it’s not something I can really speak freely about I just won’t discuss it at all. Instead, I’ll send angry cussing text messages to my bitch. Or, I’ll call up my sista’ Lucy.

Sometimes I’ll put things on this motherfucker that I don’t even really ever talk  about. It’s my diary. You know, the one you don’t care if someone else reads. The other diary got burned (thank goodness). And what’s funny is that people actually read it. People – complete strangers read this blog and learn pretty intimate details about my life and my fucked up mind and what crazy shit I believe and all of that. What’s even funnier, is that I read other people’s shit and learn shit about them too. What’s even more funnier is that sometimes I meet these strangers who aren’t really strangers at all because we already know every motherfucking thing about each other. But it’s kind of awkward anyway because you are talking to someone and you already know all of their shit, but it’s weird because you don’t want to necessarily talk about their shit with them  but you do want to ask them something specific about something they blogged about but you don’t want to overstep some weird internet-blogger code and say something about something that they didn’t actually want to talk about which is why they wrote it on their blog.

Like, the time I met the friend of a good friend of mine. She reads my blogs and Brandi’s blogs religiously. This girl knew more about the goings on in my life than my friend did. It kinda freaked me out when she asked me about something I had blogged about the day before. After the initial freak-out, my head grew three sizes because she actually likes reading my shit.

But back to my original point. Was there a point? Oh yeah, talking to a fellow blogger. It fucks me up even more if they’re anonymous. Take Vegas, for example. I expected JZ to be some frumpy, dumpy, pathetic, lump. Ummmmmmm nope. Not even close. That bitch is Gore-frickin’-geous, funny, smart, confident, fun, and most certainly not frumpy and dumpy.

Last night, I had a beautiful conversation with Dadsprimalscream. It seemed a bit awkward at first because I didn’t want to seem all buddy-buddy like I knew him and all. Because I don’t. Not really. Then I had this funny voice in my head (Rena) saying how I needed to say the F word more and how I “don’t cuss nearly as much as I do on my blog”. But I fought the urge to be ‘Tex’ because that’s not my speaking voice. Well, it is, but only in certain situations to certain mofos. It was cool. I got over the awkwardness after a few minutes, and I am excited to get to know him better over the next few weeks.

At least with him, the awkward familiarity goes both ways. Not so with my other soon-to-be ‘client’, Pam The Realtor. She has the advantage going into this relationship because SHE DOESN’T BLOG!! I look forward to talking to her tomorrow. Pam, be sure to bring up how amazing I am during our conversation tomorrow, OK? Tell me how funny I am on my blog and how boring and normal I am in real life. (Sssssh. This is a test to see if she reads this crap every day.)

Have you met a fellow internet friend? I want your stories about me. How did it fuck you up?

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This has been on my mind all morning since I found out that Bin Laden is El Muerto. No, not really since I found out. That’s a lie. Mr. T informed me at 5am this morning while I was getting ready for work. For a moment, I was relieved. I felt glad that he got the opportunity to be held responsible for his actions on 9/11/01.

Then I checked Facebook. That’s when I started to feel gross.

All over the place, people were rejoicing. They were praising GOD?!? What the fuck did god have to do with anything?

Seriously. If “god” wanted Bin Laden dead, why didn’t he just kill his ass sooner? Or lead our troops to find him sooner? Didn’t Bin Laden and his followers believe that “god” wanted them to fly those airplanes into those buildings on that day? They praised “god” that they were successful and that thousands of americans died. When they were rejoicing in their streets and in their media, wasn’t it wrong? Why do people feel like it’s OK to rejoice and praise “god” that Bin Laden was assassinated?

Isn’t there only one “god”?  Doesn’t he love all of his children? It’s a closed-minded fucker who thinks that their “god” was somehow involved in bringing him to justice, and not also involved for all of the things other people do against us in his name. And who gets to choose who is more important? Who’s god is greater? Who gets to decide who needs to die? Those thoughts are making my fucking head spin.

I believe that Bin Laden was fucked up in the head, and lead bad people to do bad things to innocent people. I also believe that he deserved to be punished. Death sounds like a good punishment to me. But let’s remember that he IS – er- was a human being. There’s no reason for Americans to stoop to his level and celebrate his death.

It’s barbaric. It’s disgusting.

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She’s five fucking years old. After at least of a year in denial about her bedwetting problem, we finally succumbed to using pull ups at night time. She was wetting the bed about 5-6 nights a week. She was the one who made the final decision to wear pull ups so she can keep her bed dry all night. I don’t hold anything against her for what happens while she sleeps.

Let the records show that she has NEVER had a problem shitting in her sleep. However, tonight, she decides that she’s going to shit in the pull up. Huh? When I got the message from my son, I laughed. I believed that he was being silly. I was on my way home from the drugstore and grocery store where I unsuccessfully tried to buy tampons.

(Tangent alert: I was already pissed because neither store had the ones I needed. See, I use OB tampons. I happen to be in need of either the super or super plus variety. Both stores only had regular. I don’t NEED regular. I NEED super plus but I’d settle for super!!! Oh, and did I mention that at the commissary today, there was NOT A FUCKIN’ OB TAMPON IN THE GOT DAMNED PLACE!! Defeated, I ended up getting some other kind that I remember that I used to buy before I rediscovered OB’s.)

So, I called the oldest child to verify that the boy was shitting messing joking with me. He wasn’t. The oldest pleaded with me not to yell because the five year old was scared that I was going to yell. Ummmm- yeah- she shitted in her pants whatthefuckdoyouthinkimgonnado?

I didn’t. I calmly asked for an explanation. I am pretty sure she lied. I got home and made her clean herself up in the bathtub. I didn’t yell at her. I also told her that I didn’t care if she didn’t know how to make the bathtub water warm or not. If she had to use cold water to wash her poopy butt, I didn’t care because she shouldn’t have crapped her pants in the first place. I am so annoyed.

Well, I was annoyed when I started writing a few minutes ago. I’m smiling now. It’s kinda funny actually. It just better not happen again. Ever.

Seriously. Ever.

 

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I had a serious decision to make tonight. Chick-fil-a cookies and cream milkshake or Samuel Adams Cream Stout? Take a wild guess which one I chose?

Should I be offended that the dudes at the liquor store don’t ask me for my ID? Or should I be flattered that they flirt with me and remember me? BTW Mr. Tex, I am just friendly. Not flirtatious like I am with you (insert sexy duck face here).

This post is making me sound like I drink all the time or something. I don’t. If I did, this second beer wouldn’t be slowing down my blogging process as much as it is right now. Enough about my alcohol consumption. Let’s talk about something that’s actually interesting. (crickets chirping) Ummmmm…you mofos are still here? I figured that you would have left by now.

OK, well since you are still here, I guess I’ll keep writing so you have something to do while you’re still here. Yesterday, Koda gave me one of the most awesome compliments. It seriously made my day happier. The spirit must have been guiding him to recognize me on his blog and therefore allow me to see that he found mine and that he liked the post that I had up that day. It’s amazing how blessed and humble I am! But today, it got me thinking about my blogging associates. Most of you people I read are so- smart. At least you write smart. The blogs I read on a regular basis are so intelligent and articulate and analytical (most of them). I enjoy reading them. But I have to admit something to you people because you are my mofos and I know you ‘got my back’. I don’t always really understand what I read. And!!! I most of the time want to comment, but I can’t make my comment sound as smart as the other comments so I don’t comment because I feel dumbish. But then I think to myself, “Fuck that shit! I AM SMART!!”

And now, I’m thinking about a brilliant comment I wrote on Brandi’s blog about people trying to ‘out righteous’ each other. (I’m not linking you to her shit. It’s not really that good anyway. Don’t waste your time.) Do you people think that’s what is happening? Why? We all know that the ex-mormons, disaffected mormons, inactive mormons, less-active mormons, etc., are all smarter than the average person. (Just kidding, don’t get maaaad. You’re smart too. I’m being an ass. It’s my blog. Feel free to call me out on my shit because I want lots of comments about how much of an asshole I am and I want hate mail.) But why do you have to ‘out intellectual’ each other?

That shit is intimidating for a straightforward thinker like me. I write like I talk. I use smart words sometimes. I read. I have a good vocabulary. I generally speak English good (ha ha ha, well). I’m not necessarily asking you to dumb the conversation down for me. I just think that maybe you could be less smart sometimes. Or maybe you all ARE really smarter than me and I really AM just a dumb bitch with a nice ass. In that case, just tell me how pretty I am even though there aren’t any pictures of me on this blog. And if you have seen my ass, tell me how good it is. Ok?

But use big words and lots of symbolism will ya?

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