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Written on April 30th, 2009
Sweetheart, please don’t leave.
I know you are not a big reader of mine, and I certainly don’t blame you. I wouldn’t read me, either. 
But, I have checked in on you from time to time, and you are one of those blggers that everyone knows by name. You have earned your familiarity, and for that, I respect you. I don’t know who the fuck (yes, I cuss in my blog) has made you feel like “an old fool”, but it sure as hell wasn’t me, or anyone I know. If I DID know, I would let them know of my disapproval.
I think you’re a fabulous woman who lives a rich and full life, even under shitty circumstances. Again, for that, I respect you. If there is some way you can enjoy blogging without feeling as though it is taking over your life, then I wish you would.
As I said on your post, I understand the addiction. Christ. Ask anyone here–a few years ago I was online constantly. CONSTANTLY. I needed the comfort of online friends because I was in a situation that I didn’t want to discuss with my real life ones. Little did I know, both sets were supportive of me in the end and I love them all dearly. I adore my real life crew, but I also love my online buddies.
I would think that at this point in your life you need all the friends you can get, and we may be only online companions, but we are REAL to an extent and we truly care about you. I bet this entry gets a lot of comments verifying my sentiment.
If you choose to blog elsewhere, then that is great. Whatever makes you comfortable and whatever makes you smile. It doesn’t have to be here. BUT! If you choose to stick around here and maybe pop in from time to time, then awesome. We will love hearing from you.
I realize having ME in your corner may not be the most soothing idea, but like it or not, you do, pretty lady. I think you’re beautiful, and smart, and a good person. When I read you, or think about you, I do not see an “old fool” and I would like to knock the fucking teeth out of whoever implied that you were and made you feel bad about yourself.
Take care, and know that we are here for you.
Altogether now: Be well, Sunny!
Love, Evil
Written on April 29th, 2009
I love Sam’s Club. LOVE it. It soothes me to know that I have 800 tiny hazelnut creamers to go with my coffee, whether I am drinking it at three in the morning or six in the morning like people who don’t have newborns. I will not run out anytime soon. That pleases me. I love that we have microwave popcorn to last for months, as well as individual cups of mac and cheese. I feel so well prepared, you know? One never knows when one might need 800 baby wipes, unless you’re the parents of newborns, and then you know that they will last maybe a week.
So, I was tickled to find an industrial sized pack of “Angus Beef Patties”, at a reasonable price. We love cooking out. We had such a shitty winter that cooking out now is such a treat, and really, what’s better than burgers on the grill? Nothing, that’s what.
I’ve been dieting so I can lose the 200 lbs I gained while pregnant, and a burger is a big time treat for me. Today was supposed to be rainy and chilly, but NO! It was fabulous and sunny and perfect and just BEGGED for grilling. True enough, it was not a day for me to cheat on a diet, but it BEGGED, see? You all know how I am not one to argue, so burgers were definitely on the menu.
I took out six patties to thaw, and only then did I notice that my tantalizing “Angus Beef Patties” were actually “Angus AND Beef Patties”. What the fuck is that about?? What could that possibly MEAN?
Am I to understand that it is part Angus, a Scotsman who perhaps pissed the wrong person off and was ground up in a butcher shop in order to hide the evidence, or is it a little REAL Angus beef as well as OTHER beef?? What could the other beef BE???? The hooves? The ears? The goddamned TAIL??? I guess technically anything that comes from a cow would be considered “beef”, so why proclaim that you are selling me “Angus” and then in small letters say “and beef”?
It reminds me of a contest some friends and I had when I was in college: who had the shittiest food (if any) in their fridge?? I thought I won with my box of baking soda and beer, but NO! My buddy Johnny won with a freezer full of “Sausage Style Patties” his mom had brought him and had been in his freezer for a year. Sausage STYLE??? What the hell? Like REAL sausage isn’t gross enough?? Every kind of meat known to man ground up and mashed together with some seasoning? Don’t get me wrong–I love the shit, too. I’m just saying it’s PREPARATION is fucking gross. That’s all.
So, to sum up, we ate the hell out of the Angus And Beef Burgers, and they rocked. Besides the excellent taste, the shred of toenail I bit down on worked the microwave popcorn kernel out of my teeth. A win-win, if you ask me.
Written on April 29th, 2009
Yay! I’m so happy that more JSers have joined us. I feel bad for waiting as long as I did to become active on here, you know, considering my husband created the site and all, but I am diggin it the most now.
I am pleased, excited, and yes, a little nervous about my very own brother joining the KCL family. Pleased and excited because he’s awesome and I love him, but nervous because it won’t take y’all long to realize you love him more than you love me. Granted, a lot of you probably love root canal more than you love me, but you know what I’m saying. I’d just like to remind you that no matter how funny he is, or how handsome, or that he is so fucking GOOD and KIND it makes me want to puke–you knew me FIRST, bitches! You know my stance on loyalty, and I’ll thank you to remember that in the beginning there was Evil, and now a second chapter, or testament if you will, is upon us.
That is a very weak Bible reference, and once you get to know Counterpuncher you will understand. He has an active online ministry, and I think a lot of you will enjoy hearing what he has to say about the Word of God. He is non-denominational, and his simple message is basically, “God is the shit”. Okay, those are my words, not his, but you know what I’m saying.
There is plenty of room at KCL for both of us, and we can each do our thing in harmony. I am no preacher, and he is no….um….foul mouthed smartass. It’s probably because of this that he is our mom’s favorite, but that’s cool, because I still have Y’ALL! Right? RIGHT?????
It should be noted that I pounded his ass a year ago because he claimed that Simply Red was better than The Beatles. I was not sorry, and I would do it again.
So welcome to Counterpuncher, Forest, Corvus, Andimac, Warrior, and anyone else who may have shown up in the last day!
Written on April 28th, 2009
This is one of my favorite times of the day: Brad is down for a long nap, and I have the option of either getting my housework done or taking a nap. Since my awesome husband got up with him this morning so I could sleep in a little, I decided against napping and got some shit done instead. Believe it or not, I am a pretty orderly person and having the house fall apart around me drives me up a fucking wall. So, here we are, an hour into the nap and I have the laundry done and dinner started. I still have the bathrooms to do, and Clutter Management, but there is still a lot of time left before the girls get home from school.
It’s when I am completely alone that I have time to think about how lucky I am. If you had told me three years ago that I would be where I am, with who I am, and have another child, I would have told you that you were even more batshit crazy than I was. And trust me–I was CA-RAZY. So out of my mind, in fact, that I was THIS close to allowing a guy who shall remain nameless to try to swoop in and take over my entire life. He assured me that he knew what was best for me and my daughters, and bought plane tickets not once, but twice, to come visit and perhaps stay permanently. SO out of my mind, in fact, that it seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. SO out of my mind, in fact, that I almost forgot the most important factor: I did not love him. I loved Matt. My girls loved Matt. I am still so grateful that Matt drug me out of my own insanity and gently eased me into the land of the living. And here we are–incredibly happily married with two happy daughters and a beautiful son of our own. I can count the number of “fights” we have had, and there haven’t been many. No, our marriage is not perfect, but it’s pretty fucking close. We love each other and respect each other, and we make each other laugh. We have truly become a whole family, and really, what could be better?
On an entirely different note–I am so over Oprah. I used to love that show, and thought she hung the goddamned moon, but she is just wayyyy too fucking zen for me these days. I read an article about how her “beloved dog Sophie” died (it was an old article) and while Sophie lay on the ground, slowly choking to death after swallowing a ball, Oprah knelt beside her and cried, “My precious Sophie, what lesson are you trying to teach me with your death?”
No shit. That’s what she claims happened. I’m thinking the lesson was fairly obvious: don’t throw your precious dog a ball that is small enough to fit down her throat, dumbass. Maybe that’s just me, though. Oprah still does a good show, and I dig her, but I am just not evolved enough to jump on the reflection of self bandwagon. I do have to applaud her, while mocking the parents of Casey Anthony, however. Those two had been booked for an exclusive interview with Oprah, and foolishly jumped the gun and went on the pathetic CBS Morning Show two weeks before they were due to sit down with Oprah. Now, Oprah has a hundred bazillion viewers all over the fucking world, and I think the CBS Morning Show has like 12. No one watches that shit. They watch the Today Show, or Good Morning America. And if they ARE watching CBS, they SHOULD be watching The Today Show. So anyway, Oprah’s camp hears about their sad little interview with CBS and pulls the plug on booking them. Good move, Anthonys. Rather than having 12 people hear you try to convince them that your daughter is not the most cold hearted cunt in the world, you could have had a hundred bazillion. Learn a lesson here, kids: Oprah don’t follow NO ONE. Nossir, no sloppy seconds for her, thank you very much.
I can smell Stage One of dinner cooking, and it is beginning to rain softly. I was able to turn the AC off and open the windows this morning, which is cool. Brad probably will sleep for another half hour, so I MIGHT even take a shower. No promises! Hell, it’s only been since Friday morning–that’s not TOO bad, right??
Peace out everyone.
Written on April 24th, 2009
So, fuckers, I have total and complete freedom here at KCL. I can say anything I want, anytime I want, to anyone I want, and is there any Dylan to censor me?? Hell to the fucking NO! Why? Because I am sleeping with the administrator.
Yes, that alone has its perks, but THIS! This freedom of expression that our very country holds so dear, is what I am so excited about. The words–nay, the POETRY that is my writing, can flow like water, and there isn’t anything any of y’all can do to dam it’s course.
When I say “our very country”, of course, I don’t mean to leave out the Dutch, British, or Canadians. Or, any other nations that some loyal KCL followers may call home. I’m just saying America is better, is all. Show me in YOUR Constitutions that you have freedom of speech and press! What’s that? You have it, too? Shut up. We’re talking about AMERICA here, people–the land where a girl named Evil can speak her goddamned mind.
And I have four words to say: I love you guys.
Evilfury