I got slapped in the face with a harsh realization this weekend. I had to go swimsuit shopping. It was an ugly, ugly day. Ugly. I had the unfortunate experience of having to take the family with me to Kohl’s while I shopped for a swim suit. Just for reference- this is a bad idea.

The swimsuit aisles were filled with women who shuffled around, muttering to themselves and shaking their head in disbelief at the tiny scraps of material that qualify as swim suits. One lady particular caught my eye as she muttered and scoffed at the choices. Dressed head to toe in black, she looked seriously depressed. I heard the words ‘Damn vacation’ more than once. I understood exactly how she felt.

Matt even took it upon himself to help me pick out a swimsuit. Now I love him but he just has no idea. The first one he picked up was a string bikini in a size 2. I stared at him, stupefied and bewildered. There is not enough string in the world, my friends. And a size 2? Great, that will cover one butt cheek. I’ll have to buy another one to cover the other butt cheek and sew them together. The second one he picked out included a teensy weensy bikini top and a thong. Really? I stared at him for a moment. Just long enough for him to realize that he was skating on thin ice. I had to ask ‘Are you new?’ I sent him off with the kids to the toy department while I shopped alone.

Thirty minutes later, I was whimpering and curled up in the fetal position narrowing down my choices.  Then came the hard part. The dressing room. With the floor to ceiling mirrors and the fluorescent lighting. Who designs these little chambers of horror anyway? Probably a sadistic man. I shuffled along to the dressing room and chose a room at the very back where it was less likely for the whole store to hear the naughty words and screams of horror.

I tried on 16 bottoms and 22 tops. I found 2 bottoms that will work, and believe me, work is a very broad statement here folks. I found one top that adequately covered the girls. So I have complete swim suit and then a pair of bottoms. The second top that I wanted was sold out in my size. I could have squeezed, and I mean squeezed, myself in a smaller size or let it all hang out in one size larger. Why does this happen? The universe hates me, that’s why. I cannot face another day of swimsuit shopping. I cannot do it. Cannot do it. The day would end with the news reporter saying ‘Before hanging herself with a swim top, the crazed madwoman took out the entire swim suit display….’

Therefore, in an attempt to avoid a repeat of this horror, I will be ordering the top online. I will find a top that works without setting foot in another swim suit section. My ego can’t take it. The only thing better would be a full body wet suit, but I’d need one that wasn’t too tight. And it can’t be shiny, who needs the sun reflecting off the dimples on their butt?

We came home one afternoon last week and found something I didn’t expect. A little bird was stuck in our outside light fixture. I’m not sure how or why this bird decided to climb on in there but once inside the little idiot couldn’t figure out a way to get back out. Sigh. Mase and Zoey were watching so I had to get the bird out. I would have anyway but having those two standing there watching me ensured that I did it with a minimum of naughty words.

I frantically looked around for a man on our street. Any man. I’m all for equality and stuff but the light fixture is high up, surrounded by spider webs, and protected by a very large spider. A trifecta of things I’m scared of. Yay me. Of course, there’s a never a man around when you actually need one. Yet I’m surrounded by them whenever I even think about turning on HGTV. Irony. It always bites me in the ass.

So I pulled out a barstool that was sitting in the garage and screamed like a girl as I wiped off the spider web  attached to it. Once I climbed on top of the barstool I realized that I had absolutely no idea how to get the top off of the light fixture so I could let the bird out. After using some very creative naughty word combinations I finally resigned myself that I was going to have to stand all the way up on the barstool so I could figure it out. Which meant standing almost eye to eye with that big spider. I swear that thing was staring me down. Just waiting until I got close enough so it could eat me. Every time my hand got close to the top of the light fixture, the spider moved. And I screamed. It moved more. I screamed more. It was a vicious cycle.

It took me 15 minutes to figure out how to get the top off. It involved a screw driver and sticking my hand directly through the middle of that spider web. I almost decided the bird could just stay in the light fixture…like a pet. But my kids gave me those sad puppy eyes and I couldn’t do it. Damn kids.

My mind has blocked out the majority of sticking my hand through a spider web and risking the wrath of a large angry spider. I remember the screaming and the naughty words and the kids laughter. That’s about it.

I finally got the top off of the light fixture and the idiot bird didn’t want to fly away. By this point I was ready to kill the thing myself so I poked at it until it decided to fly away. As it was flying away, guess what happened? It took a crap on my shoulder. I know. Ungrateful. That would be about the point I lost my mind.

The whole street saw me chase a little bird down the driveway yelling, “Get back in there you ungrateful little bastard” while waving a screwdriver like a samurai sword. Not my finest moment but in my defense, I was covered in bird crap. With the way our luck has been this winter, this will be the one bird in our state that has been infected with bird flu. If you hear of an outbreak in the South….I am patient zero.

And to top it all off, no less than 3 men walked past our driveway immediately following the bird rescue. I’m going to assume they were all watching from around the corner until I was done so they didn’t have to participate. I’m basing that assumption on the fact that none of them would look me in the eye. Bastards.

I hate birds.