Where Has All the Funny Gone?

This weekend was highly strange.

The ex wasn't able to take the kids, so I ended up with them. He was supposed to have them on Huston's birthday, so I planned to celebrate the next weekend and consequently had nothing ready for a quick party that evening. We managed to pull a little celebration together and coupled with the promise of a sleepover ASAP, he was a happy birthday boy.

I didn't kill his dad, either, so GO ME.

And it wasn't really the ex's fault....but still, yo. I had people coming over for poker, so guess how geeky that is when you spend the first three hours of poker night putting kids to bed over and over...

The next night was trick or treating, and that was a blast. We spent all day getting kids into costumes for one hour of fun. But they did have fun. Along with the usual amounts of trash and random stuff, I now have one pair of dragon wings, two turtle hands and a unicorn carcass piled in the momvan.

Today was a potluck at church that I didn't remember about until I pulled into church an hour late. Yeah, an entire hour. Because I slept for a total of four hours all weekend and I wasn't quite functioning this morning.

And I'm still not functioning now, due to the lack of sleep and the fact that things sort of suck right now. So, mi amigos, I'm just not that funny this week, and that's why I didn't get the required 31 posts in for October. But I'm going to see what happens tomorrow, and if nothing funny happens, I'll go find an adventure somewhere.

Comedy and Tragedy

Have you ever noticed that the funniest people are also the most tortured? Most great comedians have had pretty rough lives.

When I was about eight, I decided I wanted to do stand-up when I grew up. Right. It was after a glimpse of SNL in which Dana Carvey was George Bush making campaign promises. I wasn't really old enough to know why it was funny at the time, but it was enough to saddle my parents with countless evenings watching me try in vain to be "Dana-Carvey-doing-George-Bush".

Needless to say, the pity laughs were present and obvious, so I vowed that no matter what else I did, I would be funny some day.

Damn. Another dream bites the dust.

I have been tortured, world! Where is my funny??? I go out and do things on purpose that are going to cause me great harm, just so I can find the funny, but it never comes. Or actually, it's really funny but also completely inappropriate! What's up with that? When I do get the funny, I would get in trouble for sharing it.

I think this isn't fair. Do you realize what this means? I wasn't ever the little girl who dreamed of Prince Charming and what my wedding would look like. I never wanted to be a princess or the first woman president or anything sweet and charming like that. I wanted to be a tortured, drunk, cigarette smoking stand-up comedienne...it's all I wanted out of life. So instead, I'm learning how to use a calculator super-fast. Awesome, yo.

I guess I wouldn't really like life on the road, being all famous and dealing with expectations of constant funny. It would be hard. So I just smoke the cigarettes.

Smartasticness at WalMart

At the store:

Me: Guys, I need you all to behave so I can concentrate on shopping and not forget anything.

Huston: You didn't make a list?

Me: No, I didn't, but thank you so much for the judgement.

Warrick: (quietly to Huston) What's judgement?

Huston: Mommy was being sarcastic, because that's how she rolls.

Warrick: What's sarcastic?

Later, still at the store...

Donovan: I han dis hooooovieeeeee (I want this movie)

Me: No, we already got one.

Donovan: :::screams like Emma:::

Me: Aww...good, this'll be fun to listen to.

Very Tall Man Behind the Movies: HAHAHAHAHA!!!! Glad my kids are all grown! Whenever I hear a kid screaming like that now, I just laaaaugh. And when the grand kids do it, I send 'em home! HAHAHAHA

Me: Oops! Scuse me, mister, I didn't mean to ram your ankles with my cart! :::innocent face::: Kids! Let go of the cart, you just ran into that poor laughing gentleman! :::runs away and hopes the kids follow:::

An hour later, still at the store...

Donovan: :::screaming again:::

Me: What happened to him now?

Huston: I pinched him because he was going to pinch me.

Me: Really? So you're fighting with a three year old? And...you turn how old on Friday? Nine?

Dalton: Don't worry, Huston, Mommy's just be smartastic again.

Me: No, I am always smartastic. I was not, however, being sarcastic...I was serious.

Warrick: Yeah, Huston, she was making the Death Face.

Me: Death Face?

Warrick: Yeah, the one you make where you get real quiet and your eyes pop out and it says "You're going to pay"....my teacher has one, too, only hers says "I'm the teacher, you're the student, so SIT DOWN." Yours is way scarier.

Me: Mine is scarier? Mine doesn't even yell.

Warrick: It's the quiet ones you need to be scared of, though. Plus, you are there when we're sleeping.

Madilynn: When I grow up, I'm gonna' be smartastic like Mommy!

Dalton: When I grow up, I wanna' be just like Daddy and be bipolar!

Emma: Well, when I grow up, I wanna' live at Mommy's house still, only have my own kids!

Huston: When I grow up, I'm not having kids, because I don't want them playing my video games.

Me: WHOA! WTH, yo??? Doesn't even one of you want to be a productive member of society at all? I mean, seriously, Madi, sarcasm is an acceptable lifestyle, but it's not really a life goal. And Dalton, let's go ahead and aim for mentally-well-at-all-costs, mkay? And...omg, I'm speaking in acronyms now, you're all grounded from talking.

Madi: Are acronyms smartastic?

Ramblings

It sometimes amazes me that my kids know more than I about my own technology. I had to ask my seven year old how to use my iPhone when I got that. And he knew. Even though it's not like he had one.

All of the kids are very computer savvy, which is a good thing and a bad thing, I guess. They use computers a lot for school already. I was never required to use a computer even in college...which was like, a year ago, I think.

Most of my kids know what they're doing on the computer and can find and play the few games I allow them to play, and Boy Eldest is getting pretty good at editing papers in Word. They're a little spotty on the lingo...Madilynn uses the word "dotcom" in place of "website"...as in "Is this the only dotcom you have at your house?" to my sister. Or "I want one of those toys! What's the dotcom?" Cracks me up. Actually, I'm probably wrong, and nobody is even saying website anymore...who knows?

Donovan, who's only purpose in life is to be the baby of this family, loves the computer. He just scrolls all over the screen clicking away, never knowing what's going to happen. He likes to watch movies on Hulu while he messes with the settings on Adobe. He likes to write emails or Facebook statusii if I happen to leave them open..."alyhcnaoeiurabg;kajhtfa". His favorite thing is to flip the display upside down. This drives me nuts. If you press Ctrl Alt UP, it flips your display, but it's easy to fix. If you do it with the mouse, it's harder, because the mouse moves backwards when your display is the wrong way. I had to use the upside down Google today to remind myself how to fix it because I hadn't had coffee yet. It took about an hour. I would have used my phone, but Donovan was busy downloading apps and posting his Scrabble scores on Facebook.

He was sweet about it, though. When I asked for it back he said "Here, I'll put it on your game", and pressed the icon for texts.

Rainy Days and Mondays

I've decided to try to be more like my kids. They don't really let anything get to them.



Yesterday after church, I decided to ditch the housework and jump on the trampoline with them - play therapy or something. It kinda sucked, actually, so I told them to all get down because it was my turn. Then it was lots of fun until I realized I'm old and I had to give it up.



Today, during tell us one good thing that happened to you time, Huston didn't really have much to say. The rule is that there is always something positive to say and you have to think of something, so he said "Today, I'm happy that I didn't get eaten by a giant tarantula." So, the next time there's a Monday, at least you weren't consumed by overgrown arachnids, ya' know?



Which, basically is more than my sister can say for her Monday. She was ear-raped by a giant moth who laid eggs and also probably peed while fighting its way into her brain where he planned to build condos and move in all his mothy friends. That's a pretty bad day, if you ask me. However, giant tarantulas were nowhere in sight, so, silver lining, yo. (I put her on assignment to write a guest post...it was a pretty funny story for those of us who weren't in need of emergency moth extraction.)



So, clearly I got a little distracted by the moth thing. Understandable I think, no? Back to being a kid...

Ice cream fixes everything

When someone pisses you off, grab 'em by the hair and smash their face into something

Naps



Sounds good to me.

New Priorities

Due to the fact that the last six years have finally caught up with me, I took the weekend off and spent some time reorganizing my life.

I had to fix my priorities...
They are:

1. Don't die.
2. Don't kill anyone else.
3. Don't do stupid shit.

That's as far as I got, because so far, I haven't had time to get to number three since maybe 2004, so until I do, there is absolutely nothing else going on my priority list. Here is a list of things that will go on my list if and when I am ever not overwhelmed with numbers one through two:

Answering my cell phone.
Teaching my kids different things about manners or whatever, how to tie their shoes, and what their middle names are.
Fixing up my house too look all pretty instead of like the place where we live for two hours a day.
Cooking a real dinner.
Planning ahead for anything.
Worrying about who is pissed at me.
Worrying about why they are pissed at me.
Pretty much anything that people think I should be doing, and also I know I should be doing, will be going on the list just as soon as I can freakin handle it, mmkay?

Until then, please refrain from telling me what I should do, or even telling me what would help me get through this, because my schedule is literally crammed up for a long time with not dying.

Here are some rules I have given myself in order to reserve more time for surviving:

1. I will not answer my phone after ten pm. If you want to talk to me, please do it at a decent hour. If I want to talk to you, I will call you whenever it is convenient for me.
2. I will not care who gets mad that they see my post on Facebook after I don't answer my phone.
3. I will not explain past this blog that Facebook helps me fall asleep, but phone calls wake me up.
4. I will not say yes to any social event that I cannot handle.
5. I will learn to say no and not feel like I have to spend hours phrasing the perfect "here's why I can't."
6 . I will print out my daily schedule onto little cards that I can pass out to anyone who wants to bitch at me for anything.
7. I will quit saying everything I think out loud, and will try to keep it all on this very private blog where nobody will ever have to hear about it.

Front Porch Pickin'

Where I come from...

It's a lot of country songs all rolled into one..

Country Boys Can Survive

Where I'm From

Sitting on the porch tonight with old friends, remembering the good old days. I'm glad I'm from "loco", from the old St. Mike's crowd, and that group of cowboys like us.

And don't forget Jason F. Brown.

Sorry for the lack of inspirational Spuh-Puh-Puh tonight, y'all...I've been sitting on the front porch tonight.

I Didn't Mean It, Sorta'

I honestly didn't mean to rag on the rich folks yesterday. I don't hate money, or even the people who have it. I hate what it does to people.

I hate the assumption that someone with a "better job" is a better person. There is nothing that annoys me more than the realization that people look up to and are inspired by someone merely because of status.

There is a woman who has made a ton of money based on the fact that she is purty. So, I mean, she's rich and famous, that must equal smart, right? Let's give her a talk show. That way, she can share her brilliance for an hour a day, and the world will be a better place.

Except you know that "model look" that is supposed to be sensuous, with the eyes lidded and the lips slightly parted? Yeah, the one you make as you're staring at your computer screen? That is also a universal body language sign for "too damn dumb to shut my mouth all the way". And models have to perfect that look.

So, they gave her the talk show, and discovered afterward that the expression they once thought was sexy was, in fact, stupidity. Only "they" didn't really discover that -- I did. And when she does talk, she spews absolute nonsense and the idiotic audience just eats it up. Amazing. Maybe she's smart after all...who else gets to make money from being a mouth-breathing lunatic with a microphone? Not me, that's who. I get to do that on my blog for no pay at all.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can respect someone who made a lot of money because they were smart, and if they promptly forgot about the money and sat out on the front porch with a cold one. I don't respect the people who got smart because they had money, and then got a job drooling on the guests of their talk show. See? That's all I mean...harmless, really.

As for the money zoo? They must read my blog, because there were no keepers when I tried to take my kids to school this morning, so thank you, money zoo...maybe I was wrong about you.

Rich People and Their Traffic Jams

I have been trying very hard to not hate the money-town in which my children attend school. I mean, just because I'm so very typical doesn't mean that people who are super-typical (Better Than Most) are bad people. I try to remind myself of this a few times a week, and try not to frown at the other moms at school, but I screw it up on occasion.

During my son's fourth grade music program, I sat between two moms whom I immediately judged to be snobs, and had to have a little talk with myself about playing fair. Then, they noticed each other, and one hopped over the aisle to sit by the other and they literally talked through the entire program about how much they only cared about money and status, until someone read me the definition of "literally", and then they talked about Very Important Crap: going to the gym, going to the coffee shop (:::GASP!::: MY coffee shop!!! UGH!), going to lunch, and which corrective surgery to have first. That little list I did not make up.

Anyway, I find myself wondering if I will ever really fit in here, and the answer is no, and the other answer is thank goodness. And the other answer is, guess what? I'm the freakin snob, because I don't want to be their friend at all. I'm a bad bad mommy.

When I was a kid, a new neighborhood went in and it was like a zoo for money. They had a fence all around it to keep all the money in, and a nice golf course so that the money could graze and hit balls, and a little country club so the money could...do whatever you do at those, I guess.

I get to drive by that exact neighborhood twice a day because it's right next door to the kids' school. I'm ok with it. I'm even ok with the fact that I have to slow down in front of it, because the people who live there don't have to obey stop signs and they all bought the insurance against the laws of physics that surround car wrecks. What I am not ok with is their "staff". "Keepers" if you will.

You know how people who have money have a lot of stuff? And then, since they don't really have time for their stuff, they have to spend a bunch of money storing, keeping and updating that stuff? Keepers are the people who maintain the stuff. They tend to drive large vehicles, and guess what? They aren't allowed into the money zoo without passing through the guard at the gate. So every morning as I'm trying to get my kids to school, I have to stop at the money zoo because there is a huge pile of COM VEHs trying to get through the gate so they can mow the lawns, change the oil, clean the gutters, feed the pets, drop off the groceries, nanny the kids, and clean the pools.

And every morning, there is at least one of the people who lives at the zoo who thinks "Hey, I live here and my car doesn't have to follow the rules, so I'm just gonna' turn in and everyone will get out of my way", only there isn't anywhere for anyone to go, so nobody can get out of the way, and the zoo resident's car is blocking both lanes of traffic while he waits for his handlers to get access to the zoo. Poetic justice? Perhaps. Severely annoying to regular people? Absolutely.

So, zoo people, will you please install one of those rude "service entrances" so that your keepers can get in and the rest of us can use the public road that your tax dollars paid for?

Talks With the Kids

In the car:

Emma: We're going home and then we're going shopping.

Huston: You're wrong.

Emma: No, we're going home and then we're going shopping.

Huston: You're wrong.

Me: She's not wrong, that's exactly what I said we were supposed to do.

Emma: Yeah, so I'm right.

Huston: No, you're still wrong, because you forgot to say that we had to do our chores first.

Me: Ok, no semantics in my car.

Huston: What's "semantics"?

Me: That's picking some one's words apart.

Madilynn: Yeah, Huston, Mommy said no semantics!

Huston: MOMMMYYY!!! Madilynn's doing semantics on me!!!

***************************************************************

About the voting process:

Huston: Obama is stupid.

Me: Hey...even though we don't always agree with our president, we need to remember that our laws got him into office, and we need to be respectful of that.

Huston: Well, if we didn't want him to be the president, why don't we just fire him?

Me: :::Boring explanation about voting:::

Madilynn: Yeah, Huston, the only thing about Obama we need to worry about is that he's the first...um...brown? Yeah, the first brown person in... Oklahoma.

Me: Wait, what?

Madilynn: That's what my teacher said.

Me: I think you mean he's our first black president, which isn't something to "worry" about, it's...

Warrick: Yeah, that's a good thing.

Me: Well, it's not anything. It's like getting all excited about someone having blue eyes. It doesn't matter what color anything is. What matters is what kind of person they are and what they stand for. Dang, what are they teaching you guys at this school? How bout you ask your teachers to explain our government and how it works, because this has nothing to do with it. It may be better for you to know that the president doesn't live in Oklahoma than to know what color his various body parts happen to be.

Madilynn: Ohhh...I didn't know what she meant...she just said he was brown.

Me: :::scrambles up on my soapbox::: Ok...let me just...

Warrick: Mom, pleeeeease...we get it. President, lives at the White House, doesn't matter what color things are, respect. OK? It's fine.

Me: :::slinks off the soapbox::: :::considers emailing the teacher to ask why this education requires constant fund raisers::: :::decides not to email teacher since spellcheck hates me and I hate getting bad grades on my emails:::

Never Splat on Someone You Don't Know

It seems that some people don't get that Facebook isn't real life. I guess it's your real friends, or at least mostly people you've met before. And I get that there are some real topics being discussed(aside from "OMG! I woke up!" "OMG I brushed my teeth"...because, really, that's what Twitter is for). I find Facebook to be a continuous source of stuff at which to laugh.

A couple of days ago, a friend of mine posted something that one of his friends didn't understand. Then another friend chimed in and called this person a "Barbie" for not getting it. So the first girl responds with what was meant to be a scathing put-down, and ended up being proof that she was smart enough to know she was being insulted, but not one iota smarter than that.

As badly as I want to post her entire comment here, because I laughed harder and longer at it than any of you have ever laughed at this blog, I won't, because I don't know her and maybe she's a really nice person and I shouldn't be mean to her. Instead, I had to give her some cred for coming up with my new favorite verb: splat.

Her exact phrase was "...how can you splat that out to someone you don't know?" Right? C'mon people, if you're going to be splatting out your thoughts and opinions, you really should try not to get it on strangers. It's offensive at best, at worst, they could get some sort of disease and DIIIE, and then you get a free ticket to jail on a Manslaughter by Opinion charge. Is this what you want, Interwebz????

So, some rules:

1. Don't splat things out until the splatter makes sense.
2. Don't splat anything on your friends without their permission.
3. Clean up any splat that may have been left behind.
4. Forensic units can tell a lot from your splatter pattern, so be very careful that you don't splat near any murdered people.
5. NEVER EVER splat anything on people you don't know.

A Talk With The Lawn Mower

Me: doopty doo...la la la...lawn mowin' time

Lawn Mower: Nah.

Me: C'mon...I'll grab us some beers, we circle the lawn a few time...it'll be fun!

Lawn Mower: Let's don't and say we did.

Me: Or...let's do and make the neighborhood wonder if new people moved in.

Lawn Mower: OR I could sit here in the shed while you go make me a sandwich, woman!

Me: Um, no. My house, my rules. We're mowing the lawn, Lawn Mower. :::puts gas in the tank::: (yes, I did, thanks for asking, little brother) :::pulls the lever-y type thing::: (yup, did that, also.) :::pulls the...uh...stringy thing::: (Ok, I don't know what it's called, but I know what I'm supposed to do with it)

Lawn Mower: Nooooooooo!!!

Me: :::repeats process, remembering to prime it first:::

Lawn Mower: Gah! I can't resist...one little taste of gasoline and I must guzzle more!!! :::springs to life (or whatever you call "starting"):::

Me: :::starts the iPod, opens a beer, mows about two square feet of grass:::

Lawn Mower: Annnd...nevermind. I quit. :::dies:::

Me: Dude! You shook up my beer. And the yard is very big and very tall. We have a lot of work to do.

Lawn Mower: Nah. I'm out, yo. Not so big on the whole "working" thing today. Hey, would you mind giving me a push back into the shed?

Me: No way, buddy, I'm gonna' get this grass cut. :::Googles "how to fix the damn lawn mower::: :::finds all the answers:::

Sky: :::gets dark:::

Me: Ok, Lawn Mower, I've got you now, my pretty. And your little dog, too! Wait, what? Anyway, I Googled your ass, so even though it's too dark to work on you now, I'll be all over you tomorrow. :::laughs maniacally:::

Lawn Mower: Maniacal laughter is so over, yo. It's all about the quiet owning now. Dork.

Me: Doesn't matter, you'll get owned tomorrow, just as soon as I find out what the hell an air filter is and where it might be located on your person. So HA!

Personality Conferences

I only thought that the personality test was something to complain about until today when I discovered the follow-up personality "conference".  And because I know that everyone loves a complainer, you get to hear all about it.  You are welcome.

Half my class had been to the morning conference before I got there today, so I was bombarded with questions about my "color" as soon as I walked in the door.  When I said that I didn't have a predominant color, that I was equal in all four, everyone looked at me like I'm a freak, which, I guess people in accounting are used to having everything just so, and I should be forgiving of this.  Especially because, as soon as they realized how racist they were being against me, they told me that being equal in all colors meant that you fit into any group.  Also, in an effort to make me feel better, I was made aware that there was one other person (in the entire school) who scored equally in all colors. 

I know I talked about this last night, but this is why I don't like these tests.  I never have a group.  And that makes me feel very conflicted, because on one hand, I feel left out, but on the other hand, I abhor being labeled.  In all honesty, if someone said "I think you're an orange", I would immediately do whatever it took to prove that I am not, in fact, orange.  But the same goes for all colors.  I don't like being predicted.

Keeping that in mind, I quickly scanned the descriptions for each color, and chose green, because it had the word "non-conformist", and I figured that's as close as I could get to not really fitting in anywhere.  I sat with the green group at what was by far the smallest table in the room.  Every other color had two large tables.  Greens had nine people.  Then, one decided we suck and we were eight.

First order of business was making a list of our dislikes.  The only rule was that everyone at the table had to agree before it went on the list.  I have to be honest and say that I loved the green group.  We were hilarious.  We were smart, smart-alec and inventive.  We didn't dislike people, as much as things.  Our list included:

• being told what to do
• being put into groups
• illogical arguments

The group who went after us called us out a little by saying "we don't like people who think they're smarter than everyone else...not to color-bash, greens."  UPH!  We didn't say we were smarter!  The lady leading the group said that greens tend to be smart, like big words and have an answer for everything...we didn't say that.  The orange group also mentioned that they didn't like when people took 20 minutes to say something that could be said in 5 seconds.  So in the spirit of fun competition, we went a little smartass on our second list, which was Likes:

• being smarter than everyone else
• taking twenty minutes to say something that could be said in five seconds
• men and women who tame infernos, cope with natural disasters and rescue animals of a feline nature from plant forms, namely trees, in order to better the existence of mankind
• big words

I actually had to reign in my group a few times, because since I'm not ALL green, I care about hurting people and I thought they were being kind of mean.  Also, I pulled a "blue" and fetched back the girl who left and asked everyone to be nice to her.  This made the greens mad at me, because they don't typically care about the feelings of others.  I agree that my own feelings are BS, but I do honestly care a little too much about those around me.

So we read our second list and got hated on by pretty much everyone...the oranges were mad that we made fun of them, the blues were mad because they felt like we were too hard on the oranges, and the golds were mad because we aren't generally rule followers and we like to save money, and golds like to follow rules and spend money. 

Then, we got a break, during which one of my fellow classmates asked "So...I'm guessing greens are the nerds, right?"  We were all "Wha...???  US?  Pshhh"  So she said that her second color was green, but she was going to do her best to change that.  Um, rude much? 

Here's the problem...I agree that greens are obnoxious.  But they're also smart and funny, which is why I enjoyed the group.  I would also have enjoyed partying with the oranges, sympathizing with the blues, and making lists with the golds.  But, because I chose to sit with the greens, I got all their rudeness pinned on me, as well.  Not cool when every other member of my class was gold or blue, the two groups who most hated the greens.  And another problem that resulted was that, because greens don't have feelings, it's ok to be mean to them, only I'M BLUE, TOO, PEOPLE! 

We got back to our class, and immediately, everyone started saying that they only thing they took away from it was that they don't like greens.  Sweet.  They made me cry.  No, I'm serious, the nerdy accounting people actually made me cry.  But it's whatever, because I'm blue enough that I'll be ready for us all to just get along by tomorrow.

Personality Tests

Today at school I had to take one of those personality tests for some seminar on "How Not to Kill Your Coworkers" or something tomorrow.  I despise those tests!  For one thing, I'm at school for accounting, not for finding myself.  And not to learn how not to kill people, or whatever it is.  I just wanna get the piece of paper that says I know stuff and go get a damn job, that's it.  Obviously, I manage to not kill people every day, so I think 30 years experience speaks for itself.  Especially when I am my father's daughter and especially even more when I was my ex's wife and most especially when I am a ninja. 

However, this stuff is "required", which means you get suspended or something if you don't go, so I had to take the stupid test.

The other reason I hate those tests is because I am never anything.  I am usually 25% of each of the four personalities, which means I never belong anywhere.  I honestly don't know how people end up being just one color (this one labels us as colors).  I mean, look at the choices here:

Chose one of the following:  Fun, Being on Time, Friends, Hard-Working

I mean, really?  Why?  Why can't I be all of those?  And I'm not even sure what they meant by "friends"...do I like friends?  Do I have them?  Am I one myself?  I don't know, but the answer is YES!  The thing is, I like fun, and I also work hard.  And I absolutely heart being on time, but I did go ahead and give that the lowest rating because my kids make me late constantly. 

Then I had to rate:  Impulsive, Good with Money, Loyal, Independent

Um...yes?  I mean what?  I'm impulsive, but I'm not impulsive with money...and since when are loyalty and independence mutually exclusive?  I don't get it!  So I rated independent lowest, because I am anything but that right now in reality, although my personality is waaayyyy too independent. 

Another one asked me to rate: Positive, Nature, Calm, Professional

There wasn't a box for "I am positive that it is my nature to be calm and professional.  I had to rate professional the lowest, because while I am very good at being professional, I completely hate it.  Then nature was second lowest, because I didn't know what that meant.  Do I have a nature?  Do I have nature?  Am I in nature?  Do I like nature?  Yes.  But still, what does it even mean???

So, I used this test to kill the last ten minutes of class, which was a bad idea, because it messed up my chill that came from two straight hours of typing random numbers for speed and accuracy, which is the most boring thing EVER, and calms me down.

What I discovered from the test is that I am equal in all four personalities, and when I have to go to the seminar tomorrow, I won't know which group to sit with, because they said that, while someone will very rarely have two personalities that are strong for them, they never have more.  Anyone who scored high in two is supposed to pick the one they think they identify with more.  Logically, I could do that and nobody would know the difference, but what if I pick the blues?  They are all no nonsense and follow the rules, which sounds safe but boring to me. The oranges are all fun and games and never get anything done, so I'd look like an idiot over there.  The greens are compassionate and caring, but I don't want to end up counseling the counselors...because it has nothing to do with why I'm there.  And the last group is gold, and they are respectful and like little cute puppy dogs only already trained.  I may choose this group, because my class is supposed to be either gold or blue, because those are the anal accounting types, but I don't really fit in with that type.  Accounting isn't exactly my passion, it's just something I happen to be able to do.

So...I hate personality tests, is my point, and now I feel all left out among people who actually do have a personality, and I either have none or I have multiple, which honestly, fits right in with my life theme anyway but is still kinda' depressing to think about buying enough cigarettes for four of me.

For Sale

Household Dysfunction Going Out of Business Sale!

Everything must go!  Hurry, these items will go fast!

1 - 6 pack of Natty Light, half-consumed.  Actually, half of three consumed, because who can drink a whole one?  Three times I thought the alcohol content would be worth it, three times it wasn't. 

18 - shoes, each missing its mate.  Various sizes.  Includes a free treasure map written by two-year-olds to help you locate the missing shoe.

1 - pr. of boxing gloves, useful for those drinking bones connected to the party bones connected to the staying out all night long nights.  Never used - decided it was fists or nothin.

4 - busted alarm clocks.  Perfect for those mornings when nobody wants to get anywhere when they belong there.

1 - giant couch.  Contains everything you need to discourage visitors in your living room, including knife punctures, childrens' names written in permanent marker, a small amount of snot and spit-up, dog hair, minimal amount of stuffing (including a portion hanging out at the top), *coffee stains and a very interesting smell. 

514 - psychotropic pills in a variety of strengths and brands.  Never tried them myself, but perhaps they would work on your own partner.  (Warning:  Apparently, they don't work if they stay in the bottle???)

1 million - pre-smoked ciggies.  All smoked at peak midnight hours during awesome emotional break-downs and hours long conversations with besties. 

6 - kids who NEVER EVER SLEEP!  Not for permanent sale, but you may come over and tell them to go to bed four thousand times each night.  (BONUS:  This one is FREE!)

17 - video games, various consoles.  Good for anyone who doesn't want to see their spouse for ten years or so.

1 - divorce attorney.  Doesn't return emails promptly.  Is very nice with shiny hair and watch.  Wears fancy shoes, and knows big words. 

1 - DHS social worker.  Comes free with a false charge.

BONUS BUY:  One dead something.  Free to first person who can get it out of the attic.  Extra smelly. 

All items are first come, first serve. 

Happy Dysfunctioning!

*I didn't spill it, the dog did. ;) 

An In Depth Look At The English Language

I want to know why "bad words" are bad. Why is it ok to say what those words mean, but not say the actual word? Who made up the words and how did they become profane? I wanna' know, seriously.

After three and a half minutes of highly focused research (which included some serious questioning of Google), I have learned:

1. The British like to talk about their swearing more than we Americans, and I can hardly blame them. They are actually quite witty when they swear, and we Americans just sound vulgar. Maybe it's the accent, however my personal belief is that they have better words than we. For instance, they can say "bloody" and it just ups the quotient of whatever comes after. They get to say b****r, and well, that's a really bad word, and I think we should use it here because it doesn't sound as bad as the one that we use, but it's actually a little worse.

2. As for the one that we use, Google legend has it that it was tattooed onto the foreheads of rapists, and stood for Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, which, awesome, because who wouldn't just make an acronym out of all those words? Did those guys even know what they meant when they were being charged with it? So, I'm not really sure how that made it from an acronym to a curse word, because, well, it doesn't make sense. Maybe that's the point.

3. I am glad that Google sat around and learned everything for us for a few million years, so that I don't have to ask real people questions or buy encyclopedias and stuff.

4. I'm declaring a few more words that are bad. I declared "shall" the other day. Well, actually, I guessed that it may already be a bad word, but if it's not, I am officially declaring it now. Also? Farfugnugen. It means the "S" word. (as in Shut Up) And "hereby". Hereby is a foul, foul word, and it would be lots of fun if, every time to have to read any legalese, you replace "hereby" with "hell" in your head..."...and hell, it is decided that blah blah blah, who reads that farfugnugen anyway?" Sounds better, right? So, hereby = BAD WORD. And wherein. That should be a bad word too.

You are welcome.

Lotsa Nothin

Yesterday, I couldn't write for two reasons.  One, my famous brother in law called me a dork on Facebook, in front of God and the world, so I had to quit writing so he would be un-famous.  Also?  Completely passed out at my desk, which, not really cool on a kid-free Saturday night.  *sigh* Being old = not awesome.

Today, I'm not really full of funny.  Our friend is moving away, and I'm so sad when people leave. 

So, instead, a movie I made that isn't really funny, but it was kind of fun to make. 

Whoops, I Pissed Off The Corps

Today I was leaving hell the grocery store, and I saw a little black Mustang with my brother in law in it.  I was all "HAI!  What're you doin???  DUSTIN!  OMG!  When did you get rid of your truck?  And get home from California?  And where is my sister and why didn't I know y'all were here?  And....Oh." 'Cause it wasn't Dustin.  It just looked like him, and I almost killed the poor guy trying to wreck him so I could go all "where's my sister" on him.  And he looked at me like I was nuts. Which I was.  I had just taken all the kids shopping, and they were not willing participants, so nuts may be an understatement.

So then, I remembered a promise to blog about Dustin last night.  Oops. The thing is, Dustin is so controversial, I couldn't do it last night or there would have been a big ol' fight on my page, and Dustin would want to come home and get all Badass American Marine Watch Your Back on everyone, or more likely on me, and so I had to keep it on the DL, yo.

Which makes me wonder, what if he's all mad at me for not blogging about him last night?  Maybe he thought he'd be famous by this morning and he had a limo rented and everything, and then he had to pay for the limo even though he didn't have anywhere to take it because he wasn't famous yet, and doesn't even live in Hollywood, but in some deserty part of California...poor Dustin.  So I think I may have a pissed of Marine on my hands, and that is never good.  I am not sure how my sister lives with the stress.

However, because I am blogging about Dustin tonight, he'll surely be famous by tomorrow because an entire 95% of the world reads this blog.  Or probably my decimal is off a little and it's more like .0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000095%. Something close to that, anyway. 

So happy birthday, Dustin!  Or Merry Christmas!  Or Whatever Comes Next That I Should Get You A Present!  You'll be famous by tomorrow morning, only one day late, but hey, it's truly the gift that keeps on giving.  I love ya, little bro!

It Started out to be Completely inoffensive, but then got boring

Well, after yesterday, there is no way that I'm going to post anything about Facebook, rude people, people who aren't rude, cigarettes, beer, inappropriate behavior, skin color, babies, religion, or anything else.

This blog is HappyLand, and we don't try to piss anyone off upset anyone. 

So,

...


...
Crap.  I don't have anything to say.

Let's just take this in another direction, shall we?

I LOVE the word "shall".  We shall begin using it quite often, shall we not?  I think we shall.  I shall say it until it shall not make sense anymore.

Now I'm too scared to write.  Did the word "shall" offend you, make you angry, make you feel like you aren't part of the crowd or anything?  I hope not.  I won't write it anymore, ok?  It probably means something bad now, anyway.  Like I'll bet it means the eff word and every time I say "Shall we go?" all my friends are all "OMG!"  And they literally say it like that, too.  They're all "OMG" with just the letters, even when they aren't on the Interwebz.  Then, instead of laughing behind my back, they just sign the letters LOL to each other, but they aren't fooling me there, because I know sign language.  Honestly, friends, save the acronyms for the net, ok?  They're just rude, IMHO (which stands for I May Have Onion-breath) (which, honestly?  doesn't really mean anything, but people say it nonetheless).

My kids cuss ALL the time, which, when I am having one of those days when I decide to parent, I'm all "KIDS!  SHUT THE CRAP UP!" And they get all scared because I said the "S" word and the "C" word, and that means business, I May Have Onion-breath.  Also?  I May Have Onion-breath, it's pretty awesome that I'm such a bad mom, but my kids think that the "S" word is shut up and the "C" word is crap.  Because I have it on good authority (like, first-hand witnessing) that their mother has taught them worse words than that. But if luck holds out, they think that those other words mean either "I stubbed my toe" or "That car almost hit us", and will use them well and accordingly.

So, my dear, most loving and accepting Interwebz, I shall say goodnight.  Unfortunately, the Funny gets stuck in the Filter, and when the Filter is on, the Funny is all "Crap!  Lemme out!  I want out!  Shall." 

Maybe tomorrow, Funny.  Maybe tomorrow.

*Not* a Retraction

Ok, Interwebz...you and me are going to have a little chat.

I posted something earlier this evening that I wrote in about ten minutes, as I do all my posts.  I type them fast, I don't proof read, and I hit "publish".  I never even look at them again until the next day.

This is how I have to blog, because I am a perfectionist.  If I tried to evaluate everything I say, I would never publish anything at all.

Interwebz, I love you dearly.  I mean it. 

I poke fun at life, that is all.

I wrote my post tonight on the topic of people fighting on Facebook.  It was meant to be tongue in cheek and funny, it was not meant as some passive-agressive slam against the friends who happened to be "fighting" on Facebook that evening.  Interwebz, if you know me, you know that I am mostly passive, unless you hurt my kids or my friends.  Then, I am direct.

I wasn't calling ANYONE a bitch.  I used that word, yes, but by no means was I calling anyone that.

I am going to take that word out of the post, because after looking at the three fights that are taking place on my friends' pages, I can see how it would seem that I was trying to call names.

If you happened to read my post, and thought I meant to say anything bad about you, please forgive me.  I was not at all trying to do that.  I get a kick out of the Facebook fights, because people say things on the web that they wouldn't say in person.  That's it. 

IF I wanted to call names on my blog, I would.  You have all seen how small and ill-used my filter is.  However, I generally like people, and I am a sucker for getting along with them, so I don't really see myself ever wanting to call ANY of my readers anything bad.

Yes, there was one person who got slammed on this blog.  I think I also made it pretty clear who I was talking about.  I sincerely hope that my earlier post didn't hurt anybody's feelings.  If it did, I do apologize, and state now, for the record, that I was not in any way doing anything but poking fun at ALL of us. 

Hey There, Judgy Judgerson!

Once upon a time, a long time ago, the King of All the Land decreed that there should be a place for all the people to go and publish every little thought that might cometh into their heads, so his wise men consulted and his princes pondered and the Kingdom finally had a place known as Facebook.

In the Land of Facebook, villagers would come and scribe messages to their friends.  The friends would show these messages to other friends, and soon, the entire kingdom could read every message.

The people of Facebook began to cry out saying that they should be allowed to respond to the messages scribed by their friends, so the King made it so.

Then, the people of Facebook began to think that their power to respond granted them the power of thinking just as well as one of the King's consultants, perhaps even the King himself.  With this new power to respond, and their imagined powers of thought, the people of Facebook began their super-public-pontification-process (SPPP, or "spuh-puh-puh").

After the structuring of the SPPP, the people of Facebook started to notice that they were not getting as many messages scribed from their friends.  When they asked their friends about it, they were blocked from even speaking with them, and found out that they had been put on a blacklist known as "Defriend".  The people cried out yet again.  Why were they being defriended?  Why?

Hearing of this, the King spoke to his people and said, "Many lands are under my rule.  Many people travel on these roads and live together in this kingdom.  The ancient men will tell you that you should never give unasked for advice.  They will tell you that you should never give asked for advice.  And they will certainly tell you that when someone says 'I heart coffee', you do not respond with 'OMG!!!  Caffeine is BAD...you're gonna DIE'.  When someone says 'Can't decide what to wear today', you do not respond with 'GASP! nekkid!  You're going to HELL!'  When someone says 'my, its a beeyootiful day', you do not respond with 'Learn how to spell or we'll throw you in the dungeon with the other village idiots until you rot, and we'll let the rats eat your bones and your family will be sold into SLAVERY!' 

"People of Facebook, if you wouldn't say something in the Land of Church, the Land of PTA Meetings, the Land of Lunch with a Friend, or anywhere else in this kingdom, don't say it in the Land of Facebook!"

At this, the people did what any people in this day and age would do.  They each one thought to himself "Yeah, I'm glad he told them!"

Dinner Talks

Tonight I had the brilliant idea that we should start learning to be nice to each other and less bitchy by telling one thing each day that we are thankful for, and one nice thing about the person to our right at dinner. 

This was a fabulous idea.

Because kids love this stuff.

Really.

Like, when I was a kid and we got into a fight, we had to hold hands for an extended period of time with the sibling with whom we were fighting.  That was really awesome of my mom and dad.  It was.  The thing is, it worked.

So I made the kids tell one thing they were thankful for today.

Warrick:  My birthday dinner with Mimi and Pawpaw.
Huston:  I'm glad that we can go play with Daniel.  (Hmmm...nobody was thankful for mommy yet.)
Dalton:  I want to be thankful for something that happened a long time ago.  I am thankful for Cameron (best friend from preschool) for showing me what it means to be a good friend.  (AWWWWW!)
Madilynn:  um.  School!
Emma:  Yeah, school!
Donovan:  I go to school and play with blocks.  NO!  (Because, of course, "no" has to be in there somewhere)

Then, they had to say something nice about the person sitting to their right.

Warrick:  Huston is always there for me and helps me when I need it.
Huston:  Mommy is nice because she breastfed us.  (O.M.G. seriously???  :::mommy looks for therapists:::)
Mommy:  Huston, really...can you please be serious?
Huston:  I am!  If you hadn't, we all would have died, and that wouldn't have been nice.  So it was nice for you to feed us from your belly.
Mommy:  :::dies:::
Huston:  You asked us to say something nice, and I think that was nice, so...
Mommy:  OK!  Yes, haha, I did.  Ok...moving along...I like Donovan's smile.  Donovan, can you show us your smile?
Donovan:  NO!
Mommy:  Ok, can you say something nice about Madi? 
Donovan:  Um, school.  Play blocks.
Madilynn:  Yeah, I helped you with your blocks at Mimi's house.
Donovan:  Nooooo. 
Mommy:  Ok, moving along...Madi?
Madilynn:  Dalton is a very good brother, and he helps me when I get stuck.
Dalton:  I do?  :::plots to quit making life so easy on Madilynn:::  Ummm....there's got to be something good about Warrick....
Mommy:  Dalton, this isn't the time. 
Dalton:  Ok, Warrick is a good brother and he helps me when I need it. (When in doubt, just copy everyone else)

Warrick:  Mommy, what are you thankful for today?
Mommy:  I'm thankful that we could sit here all through dinner and have a nice talk without any fighting or complaining.
Huston:  I'm still thankful for the feeding thing...
Mommy:  AHEM!  Let's just go back to the fighting, shall we?

Tell me, Interwebz, do I get him "help"???

:::yawns::: :::types words and falls asleep:::

Guys, I just can't write tonight.  I tried, I really did.  It was all about my enemies The Wasps, and it was sooo funny, but I'm too tired.  I can't think straight.

I am pretty sure now that looking at numbers all day long takes all the funny away.  Can numbers be funny?  I think not.  I screwed up my project this afternoon, trying to balance the books for this fake company.  They won't balance, and it's not freaking funny.  It was a little humorous when they almost balanced after one correction, only to go horribly in the other direction after the next correction.  Now I have to pull out all those receipts again and start over.  It's just not funny.

Also, my Taz screamed for over an hour in the car, and then got in some more time when she had to go to bed.

And Donovan wants his daddy, but his daddy is apparently asleep, and it's only me here.  And it's almost eleven and I can't convince him that he is old enough to just go. to. sleep.  Please.

The boys got in trouble for saying "bad words" at the neighbor's house, and got themselves grounded (I hear the "S" word and the "C" word were flying around.  Pretty bad.  Except that they obviously didn't learn it from me because it was "Shut up"  and "crap", which, I'm a little more expressive than that, thank you very much!)  Boys being grounded = boys being in my house all day with nothing to do and only one of them likes to read = mommy is really the one grounded.

We had chicken nuggets for dinner.  I used to be a good cook.  Now, I'm a good re-heater.  That's just wrong.  Chicken nuggets aren't dinner, right?  I can't wait for fall break, I'm making....dang it, I can't even remember what I know how to cook anymore.

Talked to an old friend on Sunday, which inspired yesterday's post.  That was good.  Then another old friend texted me an old pic of me with some guy who had his arms all around me, and I don't remember who in the world this guy is!  What is that about?  I was always in long relationships, so I never had some random guy I took pictures with.  I think it's this Polish guy I dated for like, one day.  He was so mannerly I couldn't stand it, and I love manners.  The thing is, I remember we went to the lake, and he tried to kiss me.  I moved away, and he said "It's rude for a man to make love to a woman without her permission, will you please take off your shirt?"  And I said "Take me home, buddy."  What's funny is he sent me a thank you card after he went home saying "...it was my the best evening in the states"...which means his trip must have sucked, because he was here for nearly a year, and I was kind of mean after the whole polite weirdness thing.  Maybe it was a translation thing, I don't know. 

So, I am sorry for my bits of randomness tonight, I am off to bed so maybe I can remember the wasp story for you tomorrow. 

The Other's Gold

Let me just take a minute to tell you all to back the hell up.

This post is not directed at you, so if you're thinking it is, please examine why.  This post is for my friends, the ones who I grew up with, the ones who held me up when I needed it and who helped form my character and beliefs.  My new friends would rock your face off, and I should talk about them sometime, but for tonight, I want to talk about my old friends.

These are people who I knew when I was a child, who were still around through high school and our first years of becoming adults.  This group of friends was inseparable.  We were Fourth of July parties as little kids, sneaking extra pops and starting fires in my grandparents' field.  We were ear twists from my uncle and running down to jump the creek and get away from everyone older and younger than us. 

We were sneaking cigarettes behind Pancho's after church and thinking our parents didn't know.  We were driving too fast with the windows down, singing our favorite song at the top of our lungs.  We were our first beer, our first :::um, other substances...or not::::, first cigarette.  We were parties on the weekends and watching TV during the week.  We were sharing secrets and planning our futures.  We were debating Important Things, and righting the world's wrongs.  We were hanging out at "the gate" and slipping through the cattle guard.

They were there for my driver's test, for fights with my parents when I was a kid and knew everything, for my first kiss, for every single break-up I ever had, for every new boy I decided to marry, for every crazy outfit, for my first apartment and for moving out of it later, for fishing trips and movies.  They were there when I saw both lines on that test, and for all the decisions that came after, and for the day my son was born.  They were there for my wedding day, and you know what?  After everything we've been through, and the gap that is between most of us....they are here for me now, too.

I have been through hell with these guys.  I've even been through hell because of these guys.  I'm sure they could say the same about me.  Over the last ten years, we have grown apart.  Our lives weren't as parallel as they had been when we were growing up.  We fought, we cried, we made up and fought again.  Some of us have no contact at all, some of us are merely polite.  A few of them I can see and it's just like the old days, but only with one at a time, it's been years since our little group has reunited and been entirely comfortable with each other.

Here is what I want you to know.  There are many things that can break up a friendship.  Sometimes, it's a stupid fight over something petty.  Sometimes, we just lose touch and don't really know how to get it back.  Sometimes, it's bigger than that.  Maybe they were dishonest, rude, or did something else you find completely wrong and you felt that you should end the friendship, or maybe you did something wrong and they ended things.

Let me just tell you that nothing is worth losing these friends.  If I could go back in time, knowing then what I do now, I would let nothing my friends did (aside from things like murder or harming children, but I tried to weed those types out in kindergarten) stand in the way of keeping them in my life.  When things are just really shitty, I need those friends.  I miss them.  They helped me decide who I wanted to be, and sometimes, I need them to remind me of that person.  Sometimes, I want to know how they think I've turned out.  Sometimes, I want to say "remember that time...", and have them say "yes" and laugh with me.

Don't be too proud to call.  Don't be so angry that you pick your friends apart.  Don't be so grown up that you can't deal with a little childishness from the kids you grew up with.  Don't go through the hardest parts of your life without these people.  As my friend Sarah said, have a "to be continued attitude" toward these friends.  Cherish them, nurture these relationships.  They are very important.  Who else would sit in the back of your cousins pickup and light farts with you now?  Nobody, that's who.  Who else would dress in disguise and help you stake out your what-a-woo?  Not your grown-up friends.  Who else would sit in the garage with you and have a serious discussion about how not to grow up?  Only those people who saw you through growing up remember the path you took.  Who else can make you laugh with your entire being?  Only the people who grew into your same sense of humor.  Who else can see you after ten years and know exactly what's on your mind? 

Don't let this go.  I hope you have the kind of friends who will hold on, and I hope you're the kind of friend who will hold on.  It gets worse, and you're going to need someone to hold on to.  And then, it gets better. 

As Chuckie said when he got his trike stuck, "When you're stuck in the mud up to your shiny parts, you find out who your friends really are."  Be the friend who will dig your buddy's trike out of the mud, even if they ditched you for the big kids.  You'll be glad you did when it's your trike that's stuck.

Emma, Queen of Everything

I think my daughter is part Tasmanian Devil.  I don't really know what those act like, except for Taz, but that's who she is.  She's all fine and sweet and loving until you make her mad, then she starts spinning and screaming and destroys anyone in her path. 

This happens every day on the way home from school, at least once at bedtime, and then usually another three or four times throughout the day. 

I'm not sure why she lets everyone get to her so bad.  Honestly, she's a lot like me, but people just don't piss me off like they do her.  I keep trying to get her to chill, but the doctor says she's too young for Xanax, and apparently, you get arrested if you give children alcohol, so I'm at a loss.

When she's not angry, she is full of hugs and kisses and conversation.  But all it takes is someone making a weird noise at her or looking at her wrong, and she's off.  So naturally, her brothers do these things as often as possible. 

I'm thinking cage match.  Every time they want to get her going, just lock 'em in a cage and let her go off.  But Google says that's illegal, too.  Damn Google, so judgemental.

I love that kid, though.  I always have a bond with the rotten kids, because they remind me of myself when I was a kid, and also myself now.  Watch out for this one, Interwebz.  She's going to kick ass, take names, and still be devastatingly beautiful when she's done.  If only she would knock it off when I'm trying to drive.