I gave away the dog. You know… the one we found at the shelter? Loved on for a couple of months? Lost? Found? And overall enjoyed?

The one that made me believe that maybe I wasn't such an evil bitch after all?

Well it turns out that I really am a bitch.

But I can live with that.

But now that you're already thinking less of me…

I secretly hate being "green".

No, not like with envy (I think it's rather healthy to want to do violent things to Clive Owen's wife)… As in crunchy, environmentally, non-destructive, supper-happy-go-hippie green .

I hate being "green".

There I said it.

I hate being "green".

There I said it again.

Look, in all honesty, I'm perfectly content turning off the water while I'm brushing my teeth, carrying organic cotton shopping bags, using steam to clean the house rather than harsh chemicals, buying organic, cutting back on the pollution/waste…

Hell, I'm perfectly content only bathing the kids every other day.

I recycle.

I conserve.

I think.

I even really listen to Peter as he goes on and on about global warming rather than just pretending to do so (like I do when he talks about football)…

But, demmit, these freaking lightbulbs are driving me insane.

You know the ones… the little halogens that supposedly last for years, shave hundreds of dollars off of your energy bill, and no doubt will make this world a "better" place?

The ones that, up until a few months ago, were like $8 a piece and well beyond the budget constrictions of a family of five living on one income?

The ones that suddenly got "generic" and are now just pennies more expensive than the regular "earth-hating" bulbs?

The ones that were suddenly sitting on my kitchen table in large quantities because I asked my husband to stop and pick up some lightbulbs for the guest bathroom?

The ones that took my lovely southern-contemporary home and made it look like a hospital?

Yeah, those.

They're driving me insane.

And, no, not like "coo coo for cocoa puffs" slightly crazy insane…

Like I'm about two inches away from sweetening his tea with rat poison insane.

They're just soooooo ugly.

And mama don't do ugly. Well, at least this one doesn't. Yes, that officially makes me an environment-hating, dog-giver-upping, evil rotten bitchy snob.

They've simply got to go… but I can't reach them.

And now that I'm about to bribe my husband with sexual favors in exchange for him giving up his dream of saving the world and taking the god-awful ugly bulbs down, you can add manipulative slut to that sentence as well.

But I can live with that too.

(Notice that I didn't even bother to mention my refusal to give-up my dishwasher or my non-desire to start line-drying my unmentionables… But, hey, you can only think so much less of a person in one blog post, eh?)

I wanted to let you all know that the we've just re-launched the brand-new MommyMatter.com, which is one of my other sites.

We've actually got a giveaway going on right now sponsored by this fabulously darling company called TEAlicious for a custom gift basket with all sorts of great goodies. All it takes is a comment to be entered.

Plus, I'll be putting together a blog directory from which I'll feature a new blogger each week, so if you've got a moment, please stop by and add your name and info to the database! (Hey, it's free advertising!)

If you're interested in becoming contributor/editor for the site as well, please drop me a line and let me know! We've got a "Daily Scoop" column which covers just about everything under the sun as well as "GimmeGimme" for product reviews and recommendations and "Celebebe" for celebrity baby news.

Our forums currently have over 600 members with an average of three to four hundred thousand page views per month, so it's a great venue to show off your writing and promote your blog. (Every page contains an author bio, so your site's address always appears with your contribution.)

So… whatcha waiting for? www.MommyMatter.com

So it's been two days since I've cleaned up a pile of puke… Two whole days! I'm actually rather excited about that, kind of feels like Christmas in an odd sort of disgusting way. Of course, as my luck would have it, I've probably totally just jinxed myself in a major way- much like that time that I laughed at that friend for getting knocked-up so quickly after having her last baby… Only to find myself pissing on plastic stick myself a week later.

And yes, I know the meaning of the word 'karma'. Just as I know the meaning of the word 'bitch'. I also can write-up an extensive list of applications for both.

Anyhow, instead of regaling you all with a vomit-fueled post detailing all of the most memorable moments of the past couple of weeks spent waist-deep in the trenches of HELL; I'd thought I'd simply share with you a few of the impressively random odd thoughts that have flitted through my mind.

We'll call it the "Butterflies on Crack" list… Because I'm pretty sure that they flit as well.

Always keep foods that tastes equally good coming up as well as going down in stock. If one must vomit, one should always vomit chocolate ice cream. Orange sherbet isn't so bad either (although it does burn the nose a bit).

When I finally have enough and run over my husband with my car, I'm pleading insanity due to the unavoidable stress brought on by his never-ending insistence on buying grape juice for toddlers. GRAPE JUICE FOR TODDLERS. What parent in their right mind buys GRAPE JUICE FOR TODDLERS?

Starbucks is trying to kill me. And I'm okay with that.

Starbucks is trying to kill me. Yes, I just said that… but I thought it several times during the week. Matter of fact, I'm thinking it right now as I type with one hand and pop a chocolate espresso truffle in my mouth.

One day I shall write a novel about a forgotten load of laundry in the washer that suddenly comes to life to walk the Earth in search of sacrificial children. It will be auto-biographical.

One day I follow-up the above novel with a story about how,a couple of years ago, pouring half a bottle of detergent into the washer would have been enough to vanquish the beast ; but now, thanks to the nifty "fifty times more concentrated" theme flowing through the household cleaning industry, it only serves to make for a very messy floor… and soapy children.

I just used both 'nify' and 'fifty' in that last sentence. And that makes me happy.

Okay… which one of you sadists painted the bulls-eye on my chest? Because I'm seriously tired of little people yakking down my shirt.

Bribery = Happy Mom. I'll give you $100 to puke on your dad this time. Okay, fine, I'll give you $10 and a new Power Ranger. Here, have some spaghetti.

Dust will not kill you. But it'll drive you INSANE.

No, I do not want to have sex. Although I can see how that green tinge about my face is appealing…

"I'd rather be shopping." is officially the understatement of the year.

Rapacious is a great word, I'll give you that. But I really think that using it five times per page is a bit excessive even in a romance novel, don't you?

Watching Super Nanny makes me appreciate my children more. Watching Wife Swap makes them appreciate me more. Watching Extreme Makeover: The Home Edition makes me want to cut off Peter's leg then make him cry for the camera.

It's definitely possible to sleep with five people in a full-sized bed. Although I wouldn't recommend it.

It's definitely possible to walk around with three children and a husband all up your ass. Although I wouldn't recommend that either.

Oh! And Starbucks is trying to kill me. And, yep, I'm still okay with that.

***Now… if the above list wasn't quite "enlightening" enough for you, feel free to ask me a question- ANY QUESTION- in the little "Ask Judith" box in my FAQ section. You just may learn things about me that you could have gone your whole life without. I'm too broke to blackmail, but it may be interesting nonetheless.

So… you know how a pregnant woman will crave dirt or paint or an insanely large amount of raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed because she needs a little extra something or another in her system?

Does this mean that I'm not giving the toddler enough Spaghetti Os whenever he WON'T STOP CHEWING ON THE FREAKING DRYER SHEETS?

Because his breath is starting to smell better than my laundry… And I'm kind of resenting that.

You know on that episode of Friends where Monica uses the little vacuum to vacuum the big vacuum and then says something along the lines of "Now if only they made a little one to clean this one…"?

I think it was episode #678.

Kidding.

I realize that I'm a nerd and half and am filled with all sorts of inane information that is only useful for random insertion into blog entries and Trivial Pursuit (The Pop Culture Edition), but I seriously don't remember episode numbers.

Stop looking at me like that- I don't, I swear.

However, she did have shorter hair and a natural facial structure; so I'd wager that it's an episode from that brief period in nineties before all of the real people were permanently replaced with the robots.

Damn you, Hollywood.

Anyhow, back to my point; and, yes, I really do have one.

Stop looking at me like that- I do, I swear.

For those of you who do remember the episode, congratulations, you're old enough to drink. May I suggest Vodka?

After all, Vodka is to happiness as creepy anal retentive Monica is to Judith. That's me. (And that's my point in case you weren't paying attention.)

In an effort to cut down down on our use of harmful household chemicals, we bought a nifty steam cleaner last week; and I have subsequently steamed every single item in my household.  You know that grate at the bottom of the fridge? Steamed it. The little logo on the washing machine that has that bit of lint/dust/general dirty crap that refuses to come off for even the handiest of Peter's toothbrushes? Steamed it. All of my floors? The couch? The bathtub? The mirrors? The windows? That spot  around the gear shift in my car?

I steam cleaned the freezer, folks.

Oh, yeah… And the vacuum is pretty sparkly too.

So for today (and maybe Friday too because I'm planning on re-organizing my closet), you may refer to me as "Creepy Anal Retentive Before She Was a Robot Monica".

And I won't mind in the slightest.

(Have you worn the mad hat yet? You really should… It'll bring out the [insert color] in your eyes.)