…A is for…

February 1, 2010 · by · in

So, I’ve hit a bit of a blogging rut. Have I run out of inspiration? Uh…has the earth stopped spinning? Have I started to like wiping crap? Do pigs fly? (Don’t be too technical with that last one, OKAY?! I mean, do they fly all on their own…sheesh) The answer’s no, in case you got lost in that little rant I just had. My children have not disappeared and I haven’t finished digging my hole yet so, as of right now, life is still going strong. I’m just waiting for life’s most recent events to be funny in the twisted, vaguely inappropriate sense of humor I sport. 

Until I find something to write about that pertains to farting, pooping, or boogers (Holy cow, I see a trend here. My sense of humor is morphing into that of my father…and my husband…and my brothers…blast…) I’m going to have letter themes for some of my posts (clarification: theme being whatever I want that has the letter of the day in it). You know, like Sesame Street – Brought to you by the letter: (insert member of the Alphabet here). I’ve read some blogs on the net that are doing this kind of thing and well – I’m going with the masses on this one.

So, today. Crap – “A.” Man! I had a whole list of sickeningly clever themes for half the alphabet but, for some reason, I skipped the “A.”

Ok – here we go: A Redbull a day keeps monster mommy away.

I’ve since my bless-ed four month old is now drinking from a bottle when I deem necessary, I’ve found I’m back to my old ways of drinking Redbull to take the edge off. I’ll go ahead and admit it now: I’m a snob when it comes to energy drinks. Go ahead – judge me. I only like the small cans (just the right amount), I prefer sugar free (because something in my brain says “sugar free” makes it ok), and it can only be Redbull. 
I think it’s all in my head, to be completely honest. I mean, I don’t sit hunkered down in the corner snarling, cursing, and batting children away until I drink a Redbull – I can be pretty nice even when I don’t have one. But for some reason, Redbull gives my mood wings (Note: I am in no way compensated by Redbull for the absurd amount of inadvertent advertising going on in this post). Again, it’s pretty much all in my head, I think. I mean, don’t think I’m a “rose colored glasses person” after I drink one because “rose colored glasses” isn’t in my DNA.
I think, I’m done here. But just so you know, I’ve written and reread the word “Redbull” so many times in this post I’m beginning to think I spelled it wrong. 



This post was brought to you by the letter A
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