Blogging Blog Buttons!

Well, ladies, I just learned a little bit of HTML and made myself some blog buttons. Do look to the column at the right----->

I know, I know, you're expecting a post, not stupid buttons. Well, someone wants my buttons, by golly, but I know, a post would be swell also. Well, you ain't gonna get it tonight! I'm tired from a late night grocery shopping excursion that I ended up paying for in more ways than one, let me tell you, yessireebob...ratsafratsa no good grrummble robble robble...

Any who, so tonight, off to dream land, as tomorrow is daycare day, and well, maybe I'll spit a post out, for the sake of a blogger's sake, I do have a number of them in the works. That's the way I often roll, half-assed and unfinished. But I finished some buttons! Look at that would ya?!

Hey, grab a button, stick it where you can (somewhere that digs HTML)! And keep you eye out for more, I'm sure I'll change it a half a dozen times or so!

Til Tommorrow where I just might make up for missing the table on Tuesday,

Donna Freakin' Reed
damnitall


Personally, I like the floor one the best. But I love the pyrex. Maybe a different font. Hmmm. If you do grab it, make sure you check back because I am bound to change it, but I'm tired and done, and going to bed. Deal.

CHANGES!!

Just a housekeeping? note here:

So, before I get to my post a little later today, I'm just going to do some reorganizing. I'm going to post most of my Housewifery Tips, Ideas, and Advice here on the blog and send links to Facebook. It keeps the blog rolling and then I can keep track of myself better.

Keep you eyes peeled for a post later today about Xmas decorating, and my new blog button. You know you'll want to grab it.

Housewifery TIP: Candles and Carpeting is not Always a Good Idea

Houswifery TIP pilfered from the Internet:

To remove candle wax from carpeting, put some ice in a plastic baggie and lay it over the wax to help freeze and harden the wax. When the wax has become hard chip off all that you can and dispose of it. Don't miss any. Now take a plain brown paper bag with no writing and lay it over the remainder of the wax mess. Heat an iron to medium-hot and press over the bag, moving the bag as it absorbs the wax, and change it if necessary. Remember to not touch the carpet with the iron or your arm, because the damn iron is HOT, lady!

Silent Sunday

Hope you have a Sunny Sunday.

Thanksgiving Schmanksglibing: 20 Things to be Thankful for in my Pathetic Little World

First off, let me say, Happy Steal the Land from the Native Americans Day! Yippee! Thanksgiving!

I can say this as an asshole because, well, I am direct decedent of some of those damn ass thieving, small pox giving, Pilgrim ass protestants! No offense meant to any religion here, just my own white ass thieving family. No really, a few years back my uncle spent quite a bit of time working out birth and death certificates to link us to the Mayflower, and by golly he did! So I am lucky enough now to be able to join the freakin' Mayflower Society and can put it on my epitaph, and that's about the extent of it. Lucky me. Where's my damn newsletter, pompous asses?

Thanks Max

I do admit, I am kind of proud of that heritage, kind of...and once was very proud of it, that is until I took an Native American history class taught by a super biased, super stubborn, super tough professor. Talk about burst my bubble. Extremely biased or not, she sure shed a new light on this holiday of ridicule. Not that I'm anti-thanks, really, I am not. I have a lot to be grateful for, and I'll tell you all about it in a damn ass minute, but first let me say...

Thanksgiving as an American holiday needs to be overhauled and less light shed on the first Thanksgiving (military agreement that we totally blew, no turkey, no damn green bean casserole!) and focus more on what we as a society should be thankful for today like pre-fab houses, grocery stores, gas stations, and Firestone. And NO ONE SHOULD DRESS UP LIKE AN AMERICAN INDIAN FOR WHO EVER'S DAMN ASS SCHOOL PLAY!


It's not playing a part, ITS PLAYING A RACE! How. Me no like. Might as well paint your face black and do the Bojangles dance. Damn, people, pay the fuck attention!






Well, now that I got that out of my system, let's be thankful for what my American, consumerist, unwilling tool of the capitalists white ass has really got.

My top 20 legitimate things to be thankful for right now, for real, in no particular order.www.nataliedee.com

1. My son and his good health! No shunt failures and he's doing just great. Just like any other kid. I am most thankful for this.

2. This fantastic rental even if it was built by idiots and gutted and redone by idiots. It's a neat house and I am really enjoying it, especially when I can keep it clean (which is about 84% of the time now).

3. My damn sweet jerky husband. Sweet and Jerky, sounds like a disgusting candy bar, but regardless we often go together like chocolate and peanut butter, smooth and sticky.

4. The fact that that damn house and all the trouble it brought is just about past us.

5. The Oberweis delivery driver, Jamal. He rocks, and I'm glad he brings the milk, because, well, sometime I just don't want to leave the house.

6. Facebook. No really. I refused to join for years, really. Didn't want to be found, I'm really kinda private, blah, blah, blah. The blog made me do it, because, well, what's a blog without social media. So I did it, now, well, now I don't feel so alone anymore, and am addicted (I also knew that would happen if I did it, I seemed to get more done before FB). Thanks real friends and new webby friends. I'm totally grateful for all of you.

7. My sober dad. Yeh, he's kind of burnt and fried from the years of alcohol abuse, and he's not exactly the man I knew, and he's really annoying sometimes, talk, talk, talk, talk, but its great that he's healthy, alive, and happy! And therefore so am I. And let's not forget that he made it through those extremely rough times to become my lil' guy's Grandpapa. I sure love my daddy. I'm so very proud of him.

8. The little birds that eat outside my window. They remind me of the world's little beauties everyday and entertain my old man cat.

9. Streaming TV. Yep, that's right. We don't have any kind of cable, satellite or anything. It's all PBS, 40 year old shows, and snow out here, so I am grateful to be able to watch TV online. I like to watch a whole series over time. Makes for good watching. Thanks internet.

10. My husband's mechanical abilities. Can he fix it? Yes he can! Who needs a mechanic, plumber or electrician, when you have an Urbilly. It makes life easier and cheaper, and therefore more pleasant.

11. The driveway at this house. Really. One of the greatest things about this place, to us city street parking folk, is the ability to go to the grocery store after 6pm and return to find your parking spot still there. Seriously. Our old street was horrendous. When they saw you pull away, they ran outside and moved their car to the spot. Really. Every freakin' day. And then I'd come home to park anywhere from a 1/2 block away to around the corner. On a really bad night I'd have to park in the alley on the apron of the garage, because you know the garage was filled with motorcycles and tools, and still is, but now there is a truck too.

12. For a handful of specific close friends and a some pants who never seem to go with the passing flow, and have some how become constants in my life. You help keep me grounded and in the circle, even if I am often just looking in...

13. My grandmama's teachings, well, the one's that sunk in at least. Without her I may not have been even a remotely good housewife.

14. For the two bathrooms this house provides. I may not be grateful to clean two bathrooms, but sometimes, hey, two bathrooms is a great thing.

15. For the almost creepy silence at night around here. No rattling trunks filled with the bass that can't seem to get out, no honking horns and jingling bells from ice cream and cornfruit vendadores, no speeding cars, and hardly any sirens. Silence is golden, but really, I can't ever seem to shut my mouth. So how would I know anyway?

16. For Wednesday at daycare. The place pisses me off constantly and so infested with germs that we all get sick every other week, but the sanity it gives me is just priceless, really priceless.

17. For losing my job last August (even though it still pisses me off) which turned me into this twisted version of Donna Reed and a pretty good stay at home mom. And gave my lil' guy the bigger advantage. Go motherhood and unemployment!

18. For the sanity that this house has brought to our marriage. I had a close friend once tell me that when we were finally here (she was implying the move to our almost home in Tennessee, but that is a whole story with in itself, but the same principal applies here), it would be just us and our own issues. Then we would really know what the problems were that created our arguments. She was right, we now see more than we ever could before, which is beginning to make us stronger day by day and fight by fight.

19. And for the Urbilly's garage and what it does for his sanity. Sometime that is the most important part of all. It gives him a place for his things, a place to express himself through wrenches, drills, and metal. It also gave him a good wall to hang some pictures and a project that I had framed for him 4 years ago last week. Geez.

20. For the fact that he still has a job, we have a roof over our heads, food to eat, and it is just not as bad as it could be, really, it is not (I worked in a homeless shelter-coincidentally the place that let me go last year- I am not naive to what how much worse it could really be...). Yes. I am grateful for that fact alone. Even if my heart flutters a bit to say something like that out loud because as we all know, it could be over tomorrow.



There. That list honestly took me all day and really worked my thankful bone.


Hope you all have something to be thankful for, and someone that is thankful for you.



Doin' the turkey and cranberry thing,

Donna "hand me the stuffing" Reed







xoxo

Ask Donna: Pissed off at Pissy Potties.

Well, ladies, it's time for another Ask Donna letter. This one comes from a new reader in hopes of ending the age old how to deal with men and their dribbling penises issue. Jeez, wasn't that the subject of the last letter? Any who, here's the letter and below is my answer.

Remember you too can ASK DONNA about all your housewifery concerns, she has an answer for you! And if she doesn't she'll find one, or fake one, all for you. No really, no fakes. All hard work and research unless it is a question of opinion and advice, as this one here is...

Dear Donna,

How does Donna cope with encountering piss drips on the front of the toilet while cleaning the bathrooms? Have you ever? Do you bitch? or do you just clean it up and file it away in case you need to use it against him later?

yours truly,

wasted potential

Dear Wasted Potential,

I must admit I do hate this problem. It seems to be worse on a night of rampant beer drinking in the garage, but I must say, the Urbilly is pretty good about it, usually. I often need to repeat myself a number of times to make something clear, but I have learned to keep a thing of disinfectant wipes near the toilet so that he, if he so happens (wait for it, wait for it) to notice a drip (hahahahahaha, him notice a drip) that he could wipe it up quickly (ROTFLMAFO).

I wish I could, my dear wasted, file things like this away for special keeping, but alas, I tend to use stuff up with in the first ten minutes of a rant and then am all out when he asks me for an example of his rude and inconsiderate behavior. Damitall. I've always sucked at that, and have to suck it up that I suck. Just like I suck it up about the piss issues, usually. But sometimes, sometimes, I can get him real good through humiliation. Yup, I know, it sounds super cruel, but if one is embarrassed about something enough, one will likely never do it again.

With that said, catch him when he's off guard--watching the game with a buddy, tooling in the garage with a friend or maybe Sunday dinner at his mother's, or even your mother's, or even better in front of that hot blond that works at the local corner tap, grocery, gas staion, etc. These are the times to bring the subject up that he dribbles down the toliet. Survey the situation, make a plan and execute it at the precise moment you know it will gain the biggest impact--and make his face glow crimson red. He might think twice before pissing down your toliet again.


And if that doesn't work, threaten some Lorena Bobbit action and see how far that gets you. But I must admit, my dear wasted, that it is just one of those things on the piss you off list that will never go away, and will likely get worse as their eyesight an aim gets worse.

Isn't love grand?

You could always consider cloth diapers or a Japanese space toliet...


Cheers, and yes, jeers,

Donna Freakin' Reed




xoxo

Take it to the Table on Tuesday OR Fuckin' Fuck this Fuckin' Shit

So I'm going to add another tab where I bring it to the table. I forget sometimes that I am a pissed off housewife, but not usually. I was thinking, that I need to express my pissed offedness somewhere other than my husband's freakin' face. So on Tuesdays I will bring it to the table, what ever it may be, Tuesday will now be rant day. I could always use a good rant, so here's a good place to start...

Right now I am pissed off about...nothing. Really, not a damn thing. Well, I mean the world in general pisses me off, and going through bankruptcy pisses me off, and having to do laundry pisses me off, but I am just not as pissed off today as I usually am, but give me a minute, and I'm sure I can think of something...

And I got it.

I just ran the accumulated aluminum cans out to the garage to get them out of the kitchen when I was charged by the neighbor's fucking dog! My heart jumped and I honestly ran to the door. Talk about piss your pants! He didn't really get near enough to me to do anything, and it seemed as if he turned and went to his own yard right away, but...Fuck me! That shit is bullshit!

This is not the first incident with the neighbor's dog. They have 2 dogs, a little old lady who waddles when she walks who I'm sure is as sweet as can be and another large dog who they claim is a rescue dog from the pound. Good for you guys, just put him on a leash until he is better socialized. Geez.

When we first moved into the house, when the Dogface was still with us, we had handful of issues with the neighbors that were dog related. The first issue came before we ever even moved in totally. I was here with the baby one of the first few days we had gotten the keys. The landlords were here doing a bit of last minute work on the house and I was sitting on a blanket on the lawn with the lil guy when a little dog came traipsing over into our yard, squatted, and took a shit right god damn there, on my freakin' lawn. The neighbor lady and her kids weren't far behind, and she introduced herself and her kids, then asked the oldest one to go get a bag to pick up the poop. We talked for a bit, and I'm sure I was a bit cold, seeing how her dog just shit in my yard, but I figured it was fine, I'm personable enough.

Then about a week into the full move there was another more intense moment between the dogs, the Urbilly and the neighbor lady. We had friends staying over who had helped us with a lot of the move. She and I were in the house with the kids and the Urbilly, my father, and her man were in the garage with our dog. Suddenly, I guess, Dogface took of into the yard and had a quick scuffle with their dog. I got to the mess just in time to hear the Urbilly tell the neighbor to "keep your dogs from shitting in our yard," as rudely as he could muster. Not exactly how I had planned to solve the dog shitting in the yard situation, but it was too late now.

That was the beginning. There were a few other incidents where the dogs met up, but nothing very major. We still would occasionally find piles of shit in our yard that weren't ours. Then one early evening, my dad and the Urbilly were standing and chatting at the end of the driveway when the neighbor lady and her mother (she and her kids live with her parents) began to walk down the street. We live on the corner and they were going to a house around the corner and down the street from us. They honestly walked across the street to avoid even having to look at my dad and husband. I watched it all from the garage door where they couldn't see me. On their way back they cut through the back yards to completely avoid the situation. Really, you've probably lived in that house for 40 years and you feel you need to walk across the street and cut through the yards? Ok, then.

For a minute I had a soft spot and made them a pie which I had planned to take over with a let bygones be bygones attitude, but it cracked on top rendering it less than perfect for gift giving. But I'm kind of glad I didn't because just days after my heart got all softy for the shitty neighbors their dog was shitting in our yard again!

Now, I must admit, I do not want to not get along with the neighbors, but really, you're fucking dog made my heart race tonight and my pants kinda damp. That's twice in the past week or so that I've just about peed. Not fucking cool.

Now no one gets a freakin' pie from me.

No you get a big FUCK YOU instead. Yeh, you heard me. FUCK YOU! And fuck your fucking dog, his fucking shit, and his fucking charge me kind of attitude! Fucking fuck!

http://olisupersonic.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-fuck-you-grandma.html

There I feel a bit better now. That is until I get charged again or step in poo.

Fuckin' fuck this fuckin' shit,

Donna Freakin' Reed



xoxo

Who wants a clean house? OR I don't want to go down to the basement, yo Romeo, there's something down there...

Last weekend the Urbilly and I spent our Sunday getting the last of the last and cleaning out the basement at the old house. Shudder. I have to confess, I am a hoarder. I have boxes upon boxes filling up the basement. And I hardly know what is in them anymore. Now instead of having boxes of unknown garbage to move, I have them filling the new basement causing me even more distress and really pissing off the Urbilly.

But I must admit, the urge to purge is near. I know I don't need this stuff, and I wish I could just throw it all out, but the compulsion to go through it all agonizing bit by agonizing bit overwhelms me and I just can't let it go without just taking a little itty bitty peek into that box there, what is that, oh, my! I've had this since I was little, this doodad here is so important and what that is there? Oh and this and would ya look at that. I'm sure you ladies get my point. It's just so hard to get rid of things for me. The memories attached or the pure laziness of my soul makes it hard as hell. And when the memories are strong, it hurts even more to let things go sometimes, even when you know you have to for the better of yourself and your mind. I went through a lot of that as we moved the crap from house to house, basement to basement. And still there is this pile of shit that weighs on my soul and my marriage. Gah. What makes one hoard? (In my case it really is sheer laziness and lack of a babysitter for an 8 hour period. 8 hours and some redbull and I'll clean that mo fo OUT! For real!)

One of the things that I had to let go was an antique bedroom set that was Maude's (money grandma) that she got from a hotel our family once owned. Neat stuff, really, but not very practical for an 18 year old who liked to party. The furniture just did not survive my 20s all that well, and the cats helped it along it's way as well as a fish tank incident. By the time it got to the Urbilly's basement it was in rough shape.

To convince me to let it go, the Urbilly promised me that with our taxes this coming year we could buy a grown up, brand new, not hand me down, matching bedroom set from a real furniture store. It was like Niecy Nash came and possessed his body. He snapped his fingers, called me a hot mess and gifted me the new set if I promised to get rid of the old stuff. Well, that is how I imagined it so that I would be able to agree with him anyway. And he looked great in my head with an orange wrap dress on and a matching flower in his weave.


Agree I did all with the thought in my head that we would put the dressers out in the alley and some family would come along and take them home and they would live out their lives being used to the end. That thought alone made it easier, and the fact that we would get new furniture.


As if that wasn't rough enough for my poor hoarder's soul, the next casualty of the basement move really broke my heart, for a minute at least. Right around the time the Urbilly and I got together I had bought myself a cheapo desk with matching file cabinets from cheapo Walmart.


Regardless of it's cheapo construction of pressed sawdust and glue covered in laminate, the desk and I, well, we had been through a lot together. The desk had been my biggest supporter through out college, even during all nighters, the desk was always there holding me up. I owe this desk a lot, it is where I wrote my best work, created historical theories, and got lost in the moment of study. The desk was my sanctuary. I must admit though, sanctuary should not be built from pressboard, glue and laminate. It often doesn't last all that long, such as my poor poor desk.



I may not have mentioned that the basement, this basement that I was cleaning out and finally saying almost good bye and good ridance was the basement I lived in with the Urbilly before his mother moved out, before we moved upstairs, before all the real craziness began, so there were things down there, things like my desk and my bookshelves with books, like a small couch, like clothes being stored, and shoes, and other things. Boxes and stuff and things. Things, things, and things. Well,while all of these things were down in the basement, the air conditioning unit began to malfunction and leak, which somehow we missed until it was too late. And during that time a mold began to take over and eat some things(thankfully not all things), things like leather shoes, and things like wooden tables, like things that were nearest to the leak.

So after the pain and separation anxiety from throwing my clawfoot dressers to the alley, countless molded items, and the death of my desk I had just about had it with this damn basement. Screw you basement and the destruction you caused to my things! Screw you and your ability to hold so much crap just below the surface of the earth causing me to have to walk many steps to remove said items. Screw you basement for the mold you caused on my favorite pair of high top boots and screw you for making me be a freaking ignore you stuff hoarder! Ahhhhh!

Well. There. It is not the basement's fault. I know. In fact by making me get rid of those molded items. In a way, I'm glad it ruined my desk. Because, well, when I am a graduate student I will need a graduates student's desk. Not a cheap Walmart imitation.

Purging is good. It is good for the soul in so many ways. So now, I need to purge what I didn't fully purge. I need to stop being lazy an go through it all. But first we really need to get a few more things out of that basement and into the alley. Speaking of alley and hilarity. I didn't mention hilarity? Well, it was kind of funny, not really.

In our fair city, scrapping metal is a great passed time of the unemployed and employed alike. People take their pick up trucks put some high side rails on them and drive through the alleys looking of any kind of metal they can take to the scrap yard and sell to get some cash. Pick up truck beds filled to the top and over the cab with lawn chairs, bicycles, refrigerators, hot water heaters, gates, and man hole covers is a common site on the side of town from where we moved and I presume through out the city.

The Urbilly being the redneck he is, had a pile of metal scraps and other material that he put in the alley to give the first scrapper he saw. When a guy came along he pointed it out, and the man feeling he hit the jack pot, danced his way from his truck to the pile of scrap and gleefully filled the back of his truck. Really. The guy was super happy. After he filled his truck, off he went. We continued hauling things from the basement and working our way out of the hell house, when, while we discussing our next move at the other side of the basement we heard someone yell, "Hello? Are you in the basement? Police Department!"

I honestly damn near peed, and very well might have, but I didn't have time to pay attention. The freaking cops were here!! I hadn't heard something like that since I was a teenager. WTF? What are the cops doing here? A million things ran through my mind and I landed on the neighbors called the cops because the thing we are burglars and have broken in to the house. In the process of the these thoughts we both began to go towards the stairs, pulling on each other and practically falling over one another we made it to the steps.

"Yes?" I hollered up the steps, "we, we, we're coming."

By this point the Urbilly and I were swatting at each other and silently cursing under our breath. As we reached the steps we could see one plain clothes officer with his badge around his neck crooking in to see inside. When he saw us, he smiled and said "We caught this guy with a bunch of stuff in his truck, a hot water heater, a few bikes and some scrap, we saw your trailer and were wondering if you had anything missing." "Oh," we both said, "oh, no. Oh my, what a relief. Maybe my pants were a bit wet, but I didn't care. I know we weren't doing anything wrong, but woo wee, that adrenaline was enough to send me in to a tizz. I'm done with this place for the day. D O N E, done!

Mold, and broken desks, and alleys, and scrappers, and cops, and rats a frats a grummble robble robble grrowl grrr, and what? What is that, fucking rain! Aw. The dressers...


Well, one nice thing about rain is that it washes things fairly clean, and I guess that is how I felt as we drove away that night, fairly clean. The worst was over. Minus a few minor things we are pretty much finished with that cursed house and can soon call the bank. One less thing, and something we can finally put behind us and move on to the next step in filing for a fresh start...paper work, piles and piles of paperwork.

And me throwing those god damned things out of this basement so I don't have to hate it like the last basement.




Trying not to get buried beneath a stack of National Geographic Magazines,

Donna Freakin' Reed

PS: For an interesting Hoarder's tale, check out the Collyer Brothers' story here and here. These guys could be considered the first documented case of hoarding.








xoxo

Not so Silent Saturday and almost Silent Sunday --Bad Ass Bean Bag Board Bonanza

Oh, ladies, you'll have to excuse me! I am lame. Lame, lame, lame. I know, I've been missing for a week. It happens from time to time...

I've been busy all week working on a project that I procrastinated on until the last minute, of freakin' course. And since that is what I have done this week (and last week), and this is all I have to blog about at the moment, you are now all lucky enough to see them (bwahahahaaaa snicker, snicker, that's lucky). And then next week we will happily return to our regularly scheduled program...


But first...

You know what else is lame besides me?

Playing bean bag anywhere but at a cook out, birthday, kid's or family function.



You know what is even lamer?

Bean Bag Bar Leagues, for real!



Though, if I do say so myself, these happen to be some bad ass bean bag boards, if you can call happy little clouds and heavenly numbers bad ass, we all know how bad ass flames are already...





They are for the Saturday afternoon league at the bar where I work on Friday night (for the past godforsaken 7 years this week, might I add, gah). Every now and then the owner asks me to help out with some kind of an art project. He had never asked me to paint something until now, and I must be honest that is part of the reason I procrastinated for so long. It was the first time in almost a decade since I put paint to brush and pretended I knew what I was doing with them. HA! I had to ask good ol' Bob Ross for a few pointers on how to make clouds happy, but some of them could use some therapy, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job. Because well, I can't. Ha!

Well, ladies, this is all I've got for now, but tune in this week, I've got a good question to answer about pissy piss and pissed off people and I'm thinking about starting up another tab. I've got lots of goodies lined up in a great attempt to make up for my ridiculous absence. Or well, deserved absence. Depends on how you look at it, yes, Maude, and through the bottom of a martini glass is a great option! Don't mind if I do...

Toodles,

Donna Freakin' Reed.

Mondays Suck, Here's a Worthy Repost...for now at least, because like I said, Monday's suck

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Coffee Cubes anyone?

Mmm. Coffee. Good to the last drop. Just like my blog.

I love iced coffee. And I hate how ice waters it down. But I came up with a solution one day. After making 6 months worth of baby food to freeze it dawned on me. I can freeze just about anything. Including coffee.

When we don't finish a pot of coffee for the day I pour the remainder into ice cube trays and freeze them. I sometimes even add creamer and sugar to it before I freeze it. I even do this if I don't finish my purchased coffee from my local barista. Delicious.

I also freeze leftover beef stock or chicken stock that I often make from scratch in this same manner. It works great and each cube equals about 2 tablespoons.

When I was making baby food I went out of my way to buy a number of covered ice cube trays with silicon bottoms. They range around $8-10 each. Pricey little bastards! But none-the-less a fantastic purchase and well worth the money. Here's a link http://www.mastrad.us/art.php?fam=barco&cat=bagla&id=646 just to see em. You'll have to find them on your own. I got mine at Whole Foods and likely paid whole price.

Now if you don't mind. I'd like to finish my coffee. The one with the lipstick is mine.



"Good to the last drop" Donna

Silent Saturday Night: The Urbilly's Burn Barrel in the Back Yard or The Fire Drum Sure is Fun

Spanky's Not So Sexy Sex Stain Question Answered OR How to Remove Semen Stains from Fabric

Hey there, ladies. I was delighted to receive my first question, which I took very seriously, regardless of my desire to roll laughing and write something snide, foul, or disgusting. Instead I thought it over well, carefully considered my own experiences, researched and gave my very best answer. What's that Izzy, you're proud of me? Is that a bourbon you're pouring me? Aw, shucks, now...

Dear Donna,

What is the best way to get sex stains off the comforter? The bottle of Tide isn't doing the job! Please, dazzle me with your cleaning wisdom.

Thanks, Spanky

Dear Spanky,

First thank you for your question, Spanky. It may seem silly to some, but to others it is a legitimate problem in need of an immediate answer. Teenage boys, jigilos, cheating wives, and porn stars all over the world ask this question everyday. And answer to this question I have...

Protein stains are often difficult to fully remove from fabrics because of the *nature* of the stain itself. Semen stains are made up of protein, not quite unlike blood, puke, and shit. A stain like this often seems like it will ruin what ever it has absorbed into and be there forever. Which it very well could, without the proper treatment. People typically make the mistake of washing the stained item in hot water. Over and over again. Hot water and then a hot dryer literally cooks the protein into the fabric making it nearly impossible to remove. According to the online Ohio State Extension Service's stain removal guide hot water bakes the stain into the item by "causing coagulation between the fibers in the yarns of the fabric," disgusting as it sounds it is the reason those stains are so damn ass stubborn if you've already washed and dried the item.

This being said, I suggest that in the future to avoid these kinds of stains that you should keep a stash of CLEAN old t-shirts, old towels, single lonesome socks, or even buy some cheap wash cloths ($3 a pack of 18 at the local Walmart) in all the same dark color to not only keep them separate from other laundry, but to make those stains less noticeable, say if your mother helping fold your laundry (true story here, ladies, true story), and put them next to your bed in a basket or something. Really. If you are over 21 (well maybe 30 lol), you are too old to be leaving *protein* stains on the linens, carpets or any article of furniture in the house.

There, deary. Now that preventative measures have been put in place, let's get back to what would Donna do about that not so sexy sex stain.

Personally I would take the same approach as I would with any of the above mentioned stains--shit, vomit, blood. My tried and true method is similar to my approach towards winning battles against little H shit stains on his fabulously soft, billowy, cotton, white cloth diapers (might I add are still pretty damn white with no bleach, ladies, no bleach!). This method also worked on 2 year old blood stains on golden colored 1000 thread count sheets that I thought would never come out. So many threads to coagulate within, baked in, just freakin' gross to think too much...But the stains are gone, I tell ya, ladies, TOTALLY GONE. And I have one thing to thank...

So, Goodwife Donna, what voodoo magic do you use to keep you whites white and your brights brights and sex stain free? Tell us so we don't turn you in and have you burned at the stake for being a witch!

Settle, ladies, settle...

Charlie's Soap people, Charlie's Soap is my devil magic in a bottle. It...cleans...EVERYTHING! I won't get into some rant about how absolutely totally fabulous Charlie's Soap is right now because of time restraints and space issues (the internet isn't big enough to express the love and trust I have for Charlie's Soap). But don't think I won't revisit it...

And now back to sex stain removal..

For a basic sex stain, after cleaning up the sloppier (sorry for the visual) part of the mess, I would spray the stain as soon as possible with Charlie's Soap All Purpose Cleaner or Liquid Laundry Soap (but no worries Charlie's works on set stains pretty damn good). You need to wait about ten minutes for the Charlie's to start to break the stain down (or longer if the item has already been laundered, and has the stain baked in). The stain then should be flushed in COLD water, and a little spray pressure never hurts.

After a good flushing in COLD and a quick re-spray of Charlie's I would wash it on a short COLD load with maybe some Oxy Clean and a double COLD rinse. After that I would check the stain just to see how it was doing. If the stain seemed to be sticking around, I would spray Charlie's on it again, liberally, and then run another short COLD load. I'd do this until the stain started to release or move on to a soak/scrub/rub. Then I would launder as normal using the normal amount of Charlie's for the proper size load, but on a WARM cycle with a double COLD rinse.

If that didn't do it on the first try or second try , you could also soak/scrub/rub* it in a Charlie's/Oxy Clean slurry for a bit and wash it again on cold. But if that STILL doesn't do it, which it very well may not, depending on how old the stain is, I suggest to keep washing it using Charlie's. I mentioned the 2 year old blood stain on the golden sheets? At first just the outline remained and then those too completely disappeared after about a half dozen washings. I was ecstatic with Charlie's seeing that it saved my fancy dancy 1000 count sheets that cost a pretty penny. Now I honestly trust Charlie's for all my laundry.

And, Spanky? Don't dry the item in the dryer unless you are totally satisfied with the stain removal, it will only bake it back into the fabric.

Note: *Only scrub or rub your fabric gently in a circular motion, Oxy Clean can be abrasive, over scrubbing/rubbing may cause excessive wear, etc. If you rub a hole in your sheets trying to get the *protein* stains out before your new girl sees them, well, I can't be held liable.*

Now, Spanky, I don't expect you to run out and buy some Charlie's, though I cannot suggest it enough. However, I'm sure you're looking for an easy, got it in the house, kind of fix. Before I used Charlie's I had a tiny arsenal of things I would have tried, many which are suggested all over the internet and many of which are in your house now...

Pet Stain Remover for urine, feces, blood, cum? All the same theory. Or try an enzyme cleaner like you would find at your local natural foods store. Oxy Clean alone works wonders on a variety of stains. Dawn may work I've heard, but I have never tried it on a protein stain myself as of yet, but I would bet that it might do the job. According to simpybeingamommy's video Whisk with Spectrum blah, blah, blahs works great on protein stains like grass and is worth a try. Old fashioned Borax may also do the trick, and is a good thing in general to have for laundering. To stay natural, green, and cheap vinegar is always a good shot when it comes to cleaning and laundry, and hydrogen peroxide tends to do the trick for stains sometimes, but watch out- it can burn the fabric. In a last ditch effort try diluted bleach if the fabric is white, but beware of bleach, it is damn ass *dangerous* near fabric as I'm sure you know. With all of these methods I would stress a cold water flush first and after, and then follow the method mentioned above by replacing Charlie's with whatever other agent you have available be it Whisk, or OUT! Brand Pet Stain Remover (available only at Kmart from what I can tell).

No stain removal method is sure fire, but I'm hoping that my method and ideas can be of some use to you, Spanky. And in the future avoid aiming at the linens.


Sweet and Sex Stain Free,

Donna Feakin' Reed

DISCLAIMER: In no way shape or form is this post, blog, or blogger connected to, paid by, or even remotely involved (except for being a faithful customer) with the good people at Charlie's Soap, though I wouldn't thumb my nose at them if they ever did ask lil' ole me to endorse them...




And if that doesn't work, you best get some Mascul Out!

My First Question to Answer...Fake or real? ---- Really Who Cares?

Dear Donna,

What is the best way to get sex stains off the comforter? The bottle of Tide isn't doing the job! Please, dazzle me with your cleaning wisdom.

Thanks,
Spanky

Donna replies:

Dear Spanky,

What a great question. Yes, those kinds of stains are a bother to get out of linens and are often very stubborn. Can't say we all haven't encountered this problem on some level--whether it's your favorite blue dress or on your mother's best towels, and boys, how about those white socks?... Regardless of the media on which the it lies, it is a pain in the ass to get rid of a not so sexy sex stain.

Well, Spanky, if you'll hold tight, but not too tight (like until it turns blue--unless that is your thing, I'm not judging), and I will get back to you with the best answer as soon as possible.

Cheers,
Donna

Check out the NEW tab!!--Ask Donna

Oh, girls, I don't know if I know what I've gotten myself into. I'm going to try and go with a Hints from Heloise kind of thing with my new tab called ASK DONNA.

Yep, ask away. That is the idea. For you to come up with some obscure housewifery question, and me to scramble to figure it our for you.

I'm hoping it will drum up some future posts and give me a chance to show my ability to apply the scientific method to my housewifery skills. I promise to respond to your question within 2 days by email, then posting, so get ready to be wowed by my abilities to clean what has never been able to be cleaned before, show you clean green ways to deal with stains, find the best organizing ideas and how to apply them to your life, frugal ways to complete a project, or how great I am at just plain giving advice.

What ever it is, throw it at me and give me a chance to solve your problem. I got nothing better going on anyway. Ain't that right, ladies? (insert sound of glasses clinking here)


Awaiting your questions,

Donna "Fuck yeh I can fix that" Reed

Memorable Monday- 106 days

Hey, there ladies. Busy day at the Reed Ranch. That it is the way it is here on Mondays. It's the first day after the weekend, of course, and the Urbilly goes back to work for the week and the clock restarts here in the house so I have a fresh slate to try and reach all my ridiculous goals I set for myself each week.

This week I'm busy with a side project. Some fool has trusted me with a creative painting project and have to get it done. I also plan to finally get to the mounds of paper work that have built up in 4 to 5 different places in the house, including the whole floor of the spare room. Ack! I have a plan though, and you'll read about it soon.

Anywho, back to Monday. If Monday wasn't busy enough with errands, laundry, planning, cleaning, organizing and cooking ---a dear friend is in need of dire help with a school paper so now that is also on the list. Hmmph. Homework, too, now. I really am a true stay at home mom now. Complete circle.

It's amazing how I couldn't do any of this well before I had the baby, but once he popped out and we moved out of that godforsaken wretch of a house and neighborhood, whamo! I woke up wearing an apron and my Suzy Homemaker genes kicked in full blast. Every tidbit I ever heard uttered by Martha Stewart, Mrs. Egleston-my Junior High Home Ec Teacher-and my grandmother flooded my brain beyond capacity and I spewed home made chicken pot pies, fresh flowers, and crisp linens all over the house. Which really is a beautiful sight contrary to the picture created by the word 'spew.'

So let me get to the post, it's a repeat. It was written 22 days before we moved here when my sanity was hanging by a very worn thread, and spewing pot pies and chrysanthemums was far far from my mind, not even a glimmer. It has been 106 days now since we moved. And here we are today.I've slowly found my sanity and kept my house clean. All one in the same in my eyes. so enjoy this post on the brink of reality post and let me get my shit done today already.

everything in italics is today's comments

Friday, July 9, 2010

unexpected...

Unexpected you say? That's right, ladies. It wasn't meant to be like this. There was a point that I figured I still had a choice about what my future would entail after I started a family.

After I pursued my dreams of obtaining multiple degrees and carrying on a career, I would marry a wonderful, intelligent, sensitive, considerate, rich man who would support me and allow me to become the perfect devoted wife and mother while I stayed at home nurturing our beautiful perfect children into upstanding citizens through homemade baby food, cloth diapers, Bach and Beethoven, and carefully planned activities and projects. And if that didn't work out at least I could be a career woman following my heart and sleeping with whoever I so chose! HA!

How wrong could I be?

And here we are today. Sure there are cloth diapers, and a semi-wonderful husband but we're not rich and he's not always intelligent, sensitive, nor considerate, but he's mine and I'm a devoted wife and mother, just like I wanted. But its not exactly what I planned. (not at all, mind you, damn ass, not at all)

I've been a stay-at-home-mom for almost a year now. (a year and half now) Right up until my son way born (spring 2009) I was runnin' full tilt boogie. I was a full-time undergrad, I helped run a campus society, worked as a paid independent researcher, I had a part time paid position as a community service/ food pantry assistant, and and every now an again I bartended at a place I have worked foooorrrr evvver. I was go go go all day long. I was busy, busy, busy, and never really knew which way I was going. (I didn't buy the first iPhone because it was nifty. I bought it because it was the first palm kinda thingy that I could sync my iCal with and carry it around. I was still keeping a paper planner (which are never foolproof). For some reason when I am uber busy and forced into structure I ran like a well oiled machine (forced being the noteworthy word here). It was my prime time.

And then suddenly, it was all over.

My two most memorable and important moments in my life fell just days from each other. On a warm Sunday in May I received my BA in History with a Soci minor. Ah. It felt great. It took me years to go to school and when I finally started I ran straight through and came out on top as a member of PBK and Magna Cum Laude honors (shameless, Donna, really) (tho I graduated about 10 years later then I would like to have). Oh, how proud I was of myself, (let me break my arm here). I loved school. I cried during the ceremony. In your face crappy, non-understanding, non-supportive, high school teachers! I can do anything! Jerks. Anywho, before I had time to let this great feat sink in, my doctor decided it was time to induce and I was confined to a hospital bed. I was already on bed rest for preeclampsia but was given super special permission to go to my grad ceremony. So just days after graduation, the greatest accomplishment in my life, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, the greatest creation in my life.

All schooly things stopped right then for me. No more dork society, no more long research papers and hours in archives, no more paid research spots through the university. Mommydom here we come. My life was about to significantly shift in an unknown direction.

After time I returned to my part time job, which was all that was left of my busy life. Within a few weeks I was offered a new position (mine and another combined). It was take it or nothing at all. So I took it. I already missed school and looked forward to putting some focus and energy into the job. I hardly got started when my 10 week old son was diagnosed with hydrocephalus (see other future posts regarding this long sad ordeal) and later came down with an infection due to the initial surgery. I missed a number of days because of the situation. It was the most painful, difficult and trying time in my life. And right in the middle of it, I was let go. As is having a child go through surgery after surgery all in the early months of his life, but to get let go. Harsh. Did I mention the irony in that the place was a homeless shelter? (I still am totally pissed about this, it just sets me off!)

I now had to pick up the pieces of my shattered little life. Damn it. Just when I thought I really had it together this time.

I must admit the depression came on quickly and swept me off my feet. During these dark months my marriage began to deteriorate. It didn't help that we had a whirlwind marriage. We met in March '06 and married in August. We lived in the basement of his mother's house until I flipped my lid and she gave us the house and the mortgage to go along with it. Just weeks after she moved out my recovering alcoholic father needed help, and we moved him in. We spent maybe a week alone together. In September I got pregnant (on purpose), my dad moved out in February, and the baby came in May. We spent only those few precious months together, alone, like a couple should. Ah. It still makes me sad. I got a fortune cookie once that said "Sudden Love takes the longest to cure lucky number 2 2 44 35 18 91." It sure is true. And those numbers were bogus. (really, I played them for fun)

Life got harder and harder and we had less and less money. Even with our insurance and HSA account the deductibles from the year overwhelmed us. We were paying for massive bills in the end that included the initial birth, his stay initial stay in the NICU, the later shunt surgery, and a hernia surgery for my husband. I'd like to see universal health coverage fix that! The weight of it all along with a small amount of credit card debt from our wedding, and a hefty mortgage (thanks to my MIL) for house that has been assessed for almost $20,000 (thanks Milwaukee) less began to crush us financially and do worse to our fragile marriage. Ah, the American Dream. We are so a part of it. [as I read this part over I just cringe, how many more hard working Americans are caught in this fucking mess, this twisted circle, this god damn game?!?! Sorry to rant. But I guess this is what has contributed to me being a pissed off housewife and part of what started the blog. It's kind of therapeutic.]

For months we have fought almost every weekend. He, unhappy with his job and his role in the family, shuts down his emotions and buries them (like most men, duh, Donna). I, who almost in a world I hadn't planned for, yearn for a creative outlet and the constant gratification school had provided (which is what really brings me to blog). We even talked about counseling, we bought books, we avoided each other, but slowly and surely we are figuring it out. Painful as it can be, we'll make it. I believe we were meant to be, for sure (I am sure glad this part of our lives is over, well, mostly. I was getting close to doing something drastic, like, buying rat poison...)

I must say, I have now have got a lot of the pieces put back together. In March, we set it straight after a family inheritance turned out badly (future rant about TN i the works). We're filing bankruptcy, walking away from the house he and his mother owns, and damn it, starting over. We'll live on cash, learn to keep a budget well, and move on. We're gonna jump both feet first holding on to each other for dear life. It seems to be getting better every day, slowly though, very slowly. I hope to chronicle some of the change in this blog. This is it, this time. The real thing. The real deal, Lucille. We will really start a life together in our own space, just as long as we don't kill each other first.



22 Days,

Donna


Wow, I have to admit it is hard to repost this, put my life before you girls like, well, like a damned book, and not but once, but freakin' twice. But, you know, it's ok. It's ok because I don't want to kill him any more and not only do I not want to kill him, I am once again pretty close to head over heels in love with that damn redneck. How does that happen? Well, Ive got a pot pie to bake. And that is ok. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.

Still Silent Saturday and almost Silent Sunday -- Driver's Side Sunset Beauty in a Dozen Reflected Shots

Silent Saturday

My great uncle is a great artist. This was drawn originally in 1946 and redone in 1991.







I know, it has nothing to do with housewifery, except that it hangs in my house...