Forcing your kids to perform for family, even though you are the only person in the world who wants to see this happen:
Step One:
Play Christmas carols constantly. In the car, in the house, put them on an iPod and send 'em to school. This way, your children are learning the words to every Christmas song subconsciously, and you can make them sing any song at your whim.
Step Two:
Teach them some moves. If you teach the youngest ones, they don't think it's dorky. Then, when they're singing, the older ones join in because they will be more nervous and will want something to do with their hands while they're singing. Do not involve facial expressions in your choreography...they need their face to shoot daggers at you for making them do this.
Step Three:
Wait till after dinner when everyone is sitting on the couch. This makes it less likely that your audience will get up and leave.
Step Four:
Say "Hey, (kid's name), I'll be you don't know (whatever song you want to hear)."
Kid: "Yes I do"
You: "No way...I don't believe it." :::begin singing the song but using the wrong words:::
Kid: "That's not how it goes!" :::starts to show you how to sing:::
Other Kids: :::can't be outdone and join in the singing:::
You: :::laugh merrily at your cute kids and ignore everyone else rolling their eyes:::
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 27, 2010
Christmas, Step One
If you took Martha Stewart, made her a brunette and put a feather boa on her, gave her six small children, took away one arrest and added about twenty near arrests, threw a few poptarts on the floor, got rid of the snotty attitude and replaced it with badass, and took all but one hundred of her dollars away, you would have me. I'm the almost Martha of Christmas. No, really.
And in an effort to give back, I will guide you step-by-step through this holiday season.
Step One: Decor
We have moved into a new home this year, and were quite thrilled to see how our Christmas decorations looked in our new living room. We went from nine foot ceilings and spacious living to doors that smack you in the forehead if you don't duck and a living room that barely fits our couch. It was fun trying to squeeze all the Christmas into our new little space.
We have a five foot tall dancing Santa who used to occupy a prominent place near the mantel. He is no longer allowed in the living room because every time he swings his arms, he knocks a kid out of the window. However, he is also not allowed in the sight of Donovan's bed, because Donovan pushed him over the first day and is pretty sure that Santa has been out to get him ever since. Santa goes out on the porch along with the talking moose wreath to give Shucks a generous dose of holiday terror. Santa, by the way, is on strike now, and refuses to dance or sing, and instead shouts "ho!" when I walk by. This was amusing exactly once. Now I'm starting to get a reputation.
My awesome cousin came over and helped me decorate this year, and arranged a beautiful vase filled with ornaments to set near the TV. Then, another friend pointed out how it's shaped like a mouse, and now I need to decide if I should rearrange it or notice its mousiness all season. There is usually one thing every year that drives me nuts, so I'm thinking I'll leave the mouse alone and hope it cancels out the crooked tree.
The tree, the center of most Christmas decor, needs a more thorough explanation, so I will go into more detail. Please read the first few instructions carefully if you use a fake tree and have moved since last December.
1. Before you do anything, be sure your old tree will fit in your new house. Most people would use a tape measure for this, and I am sure that is quite adequate. If you don't have one, and yes, this is why I'm the almost Martha of Christmas, you should use a person. Have them pretend to be the base of the tree and hold it up while you assemble it. You don't want to put the real base down, just in case it doesn't fit and that would be some wasted effort. Your friend will be poked in the eye with branches and end up so far under the tree that you probably don't need a tree skirt, so make sure it's a good friend who will still love you after this. I prefer cousins or siblings...they have to love you no matter what.
2. After you establish that it fits, you can take it all apart in order to assemble the base. If you had free movers, the base of your tree is no longer functional. You will need three bricks, a bungee cord and a diaper (preferably clean). Poke the "trunk" of the tree into the center hole of a brick. If it's still a little loose, wrap the trunk in the diaper before you insert it into the brick. Make sure your cousin is standing by to catch the tree if it tilts. Put the other two bricks on either side of the first one, and secure all three together with the bungee cord.
3. Don't let your cousin leave yet, because the tree is still not sure how straight it wants to be. While she holds the tree up, you get a chair, a nail, a hammer and a plant hook. Put the nail where you want the top of the tree to reach on your ceiling. Then take it out and replace with the hook. Twist the top branches of your tree around the hook until it seems secure. Allow your cousin to let go, and your tree should be standing mostly straight and probably safe from falling over. You will know for sure after the ornaments are on. Good luck with that.
4. Find a pretty tree skirt to cover the bricks and you're all set for lights and ornaments.
Those are the basics for Christmas decorating. By Monday, we will cover putting the ornaments on the tree and whether or not lighted garland can share a plug with your refrigerator.
And in an effort to give back, I will guide you step-by-step through this holiday season.
Step One: Decor
We have moved into a new home this year, and were quite thrilled to see how our Christmas decorations looked in our new living room. We went from nine foot ceilings and spacious living to doors that smack you in the forehead if you don't duck and a living room that barely fits our couch. It was fun trying to squeeze all the Christmas into our new little space.
We have a five foot tall dancing Santa who used to occupy a prominent place near the mantel. He is no longer allowed in the living room because every time he swings his arms, he knocks a kid out of the window. However, he is also not allowed in the sight of Donovan's bed, because Donovan pushed him over the first day and is pretty sure that Santa has been out to get him ever since. Santa goes out on the porch along with the talking moose wreath to give Shucks a generous dose of holiday terror. Santa, by the way, is on strike now, and refuses to dance or sing, and instead shouts "ho!" when I walk by. This was amusing exactly once. Now I'm starting to get a reputation.
My awesome cousin came over and helped me decorate this year, and arranged a beautiful vase filled with ornaments to set near the TV. Then, another friend pointed out how it's shaped like a mouse, and now I need to decide if I should rearrange it or notice its mousiness all season. There is usually one thing every year that drives me nuts, so I'm thinking I'll leave the mouse alone and hope it cancels out the crooked tree.
The tree, the center of most Christmas decor, needs a more thorough explanation, so I will go into more detail. Please read the first few instructions carefully if you use a fake tree and have moved since last December.
1. Before you do anything, be sure your old tree will fit in your new house. Most people would use a tape measure for this, and I am sure that is quite adequate. If you don't have one, and yes, this is why I'm the almost Martha of Christmas, you should use a person. Have them pretend to be the base of the tree and hold it up while you assemble it. You don't want to put the real base down, just in case it doesn't fit and that would be some wasted effort. Your friend will be poked in the eye with branches and end up so far under the tree that you probably don't need a tree skirt, so make sure it's a good friend who will still love you after this. I prefer cousins or siblings...they have to love you no matter what.
2. After you establish that it fits, you can take it all apart in order to assemble the base. If you had free movers, the base of your tree is no longer functional. You will need three bricks, a bungee cord and a diaper (preferably clean). Poke the "trunk" of the tree into the center hole of a brick. If it's still a little loose, wrap the trunk in the diaper before you insert it into the brick. Make sure your cousin is standing by to catch the tree if it tilts. Put the other two bricks on either side of the first one, and secure all three together with the bungee cord.
3. Don't let your cousin leave yet, because the tree is still not sure how straight it wants to be. While she holds the tree up, you get a chair, a nail, a hammer and a plant hook. Put the nail where you want the top of the tree to reach on your ceiling. Then take it out and replace with the hook. Twist the top branches of your tree around the hook until it seems secure. Allow your cousin to let go, and your tree should be standing mostly straight and probably safe from falling over. You will know for sure after the ornaments are on. Good luck with that.
4. Find a pretty tree skirt to cover the bricks and you're all set for lights and ornaments.
Those are the basics for Christmas decorating. By Monday, we will cover putting the ornaments on the tree and whether or not lighted garland can share a plug with your refrigerator.
Nov 25, 2010
Turkey Day
Happy Thanksgiving, Interwebz. I wonder how much turkey it takes to feed the Internet. Probably a lot.
Giant win today watching the parade with my kids. When the Rockettes came on, Donovan said "Look, Mama! That's you!" Yeah, Mama could so be a Rockette. This is why I don't post pictures of myself, I can convince you that I'm a Rockette. No, really.
We started dinner at my sister's house with the Cupid Shuffle. That is how cool my family is. And I told Donovan he was "totally lame" because he only wanted to hang out with his mommy all night, and now that's his new favorite phrase...you know how you spend all that time waiting for your kids to talk, then wish they would stop? Yeah.
This year, my kids went on a Thanksgiving strike and decided they didn't like turkey, dressing, or any type of casserole, and as we know, they are offended by mashed potatoes (because "they taste like mashed potatoes!), so they ate only bread and fruit. They just aren't American, my kids. Or maybe they were celebrating freedom from real food, I don't know. At any rate, I am no longer wasting half of Thanksgiving day in the line for food six different times. Instead, I'm bringing a loaf of bread and a bunch of bananas, setting them up a picnic table and I'll be all "lates, yo...I'ma go eat and I'll see y'all when it's time to go."
I'm hoping they feel the same about Christmas gifts. Santa broke this year, y'all...had to buy Mama a new Ninja Truck. I'm thinking of wrapping giant boxes...that's what they want to play with anyway. Maybe I'll be nice and throw in some bubble wrap. I think that covers all the bases...fun and noisy.
Well, Interwebz, time to move on to Advent, my house will literally be exploding with Christmas tomorrow. I'm going to attempt to put 2500 square feet worth of decorations into a 1300 square foot home. It'll be storming glitter in here.
Good night.
Giant win today watching the parade with my kids. When the Rockettes came on, Donovan said "Look, Mama! That's you!" Yeah, Mama could so be a Rockette. This is why I don't post pictures of myself, I can convince you that I'm a Rockette. No, really.
We started dinner at my sister's house with the Cupid Shuffle. That is how cool my family is. And I told Donovan he was "totally lame" because he only wanted to hang out with his mommy all night, and now that's his new favorite phrase...you know how you spend all that time waiting for your kids to talk, then wish they would stop? Yeah.
This year, my kids went on a Thanksgiving strike and decided they didn't like turkey, dressing, or any type of casserole, and as we know, they are offended by mashed potatoes (because "they taste like mashed potatoes!), so they ate only bread and fruit. They just aren't American, my kids. Or maybe they were celebrating freedom from real food, I don't know. At any rate, I am no longer wasting half of Thanksgiving day in the line for food six different times. Instead, I'm bringing a loaf of bread and a bunch of bananas, setting them up a picnic table and I'll be all "lates, yo...I'ma go eat and I'll see y'all when it's time to go."
I'm hoping they feel the same about Christmas gifts. Santa broke this year, y'all...had to buy Mama a new Ninja Truck. I'm thinking of wrapping giant boxes...that's what they want to play with anyway. Maybe I'll be nice and throw in some bubble wrap. I think that covers all the bases...fun and noisy.
Well, Interwebz, time to move on to Advent, my house will literally be exploding with Christmas tomorrow. I'm going to attempt to put 2500 square feet worth of decorations into a 1300 square foot home. It'll be storming glitter in here.
Good night.
Nov 24, 2010
Sidetracked
Well, Interwebz, I got seriously sidetracked by Glee and forgot to write tonight. Will Kurt ever be tolerated? Will Rachel ever grow up? Will Finn ever wipe that stupid look off his face? I have to know.
I just can't write until I know.
I just can't write until I know.
Nov 23, 2010
Bad Behavior
Today was Madilynn's kindergarten Thanksgiving program, which, if I could write it as cute as it was, I would be quite famous by now. The teacher let them all have a few seconds at the beginning to wave at their families in hopes that they wouldn't do it through the entire show. It worked, which makes me wonder if I should let Emma and Donovan go ahead and try to kill each other for five minutes before we get in the car each time, and maybe I won't want to drive off a cliff, which, luckily, is hard to do on the prairie.
I was hoping that Ninja Truck would solve this problem, what with all the seats and stuff, but apparently not.
Or maybe if I let the kids color on the walls and steal food and throw things at their siblings after dinner, they won't be inclined to do so until midnight every night.
On a completely unrelated note, sort of, my kids had Thanksgiving with my in-laws on Saturday. I was to drop them off and pick them up, which was fine with me, because I really needed a break. But when I got back to pick them up, I got questioned by my brother in law on what sort of table manners I was teaching my children. It seems that, right in the middle of dinner, my two girls and their cousin, who is right in between their ages, took off their shoes and started licking each other's feet.
Ok, here's the thing...I realize that my brother in law was probably kidding. But there have been so many times that I have picked my kids up to hear things like...
"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I told the kids that we don't talk about poop at the table...you're probably used to it, but I'm not..."
"I told them that the rules at my house are different and it's not ok to throw food when they're at my house..."
"I had to have a talk with them about not pouring their drinks on each other...I know you have your own set of rules, but I don't like messes."
Wow.
Because you see, my children never act that way at my house. And our rules, especially at the dinner table, are very strict. I don't like the implication that my children are using horrendous manners because I am teaching them that way...has it occurred to anyone that perhaps they are testing the boundaries when I am not around? I guess not....
Don't get me wrong, my children behave in a manner that drives me up the wall at least fifty percent of the time, but never at dinner! And never because I have encouraged them to act that way. Why would I ever send them over to my exes or his family's house with instructions to be on their worst behavior and show everyone else what I'm dealing with on a day to day basis? Would it benefit me at all to have them go over there and ruin dinner or a carpet or something? Would I get any pleasure out of knowing that nobody else can handle for one day what I deal with 24/7????
No, Interwebz, the answer is no. Stop shaking your head at me. Stop it.
I was hoping that Ninja Truck would solve this problem, what with all the seats and stuff, but apparently not.
Or maybe if I let the kids color on the walls and steal food and throw things at their siblings after dinner, they won't be inclined to do so until midnight every night.
On a completely unrelated note, sort of, my kids had Thanksgiving with my in-laws on Saturday. I was to drop them off and pick them up, which was fine with me, because I really needed a break. But when I got back to pick them up, I got questioned by my brother in law on what sort of table manners I was teaching my children. It seems that, right in the middle of dinner, my two girls and their cousin, who is right in between their ages, took off their shoes and started licking each other's feet.
Ok, here's the thing...I realize that my brother in law was probably kidding. But there have been so many times that I have picked my kids up to hear things like...
"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I told the kids that we don't talk about poop at the table...you're probably used to it, but I'm not..."
"I told them that the rules at my house are different and it's not ok to throw food when they're at my house..."
"I had to have a talk with them about not pouring their drinks on each other...I know you have your own set of rules, but I don't like messes."
Wow.
Because you see, my children never act that way at my house. And our rules, especially at the dinner table, are very strict. I don't like the implication that my children are using horrendous manners because I am teaching them that way...has it occurred to anyone that perhaps they are testing the boundaries when I am not around? I guess not....
Don't get me wrong, my children behave in a manner that drives me up the wall at least fifty percent of the time, but never at dinner! And never because I have encouraged them to act that way. Why would I ever send them over to my exes or his family's house with instructions to be on their worst behavior and show everyone else what I'm dealing with on a day to day basis? Would it benefit me at all to have them go over there and ruin dinner or a carpet or something? Would I get any pleasure out of knowing that nobody else can handle for one day what I deal with 24/7????
No, Interwebz, the answer is no. Stop shaking your head at me. Stop it.
Nov 22, 2010
Chats with Shucks 5, Nazi vs. Ninja
I have done everything I can to make sure that Ninja Truck wasn't stolen, but there is something fishy about it for sure. I got calls from both the man selling the truck (who is out of town) and his step-dad wondering if I was going to show up (an hour before I was supposed to be there) and making sure I had cash. Then another call ten minutes before I was supposed to be there wondering the same thing. So I purposely went to Starbucks and made myself ten minutes late just to make them sweat. I did that knowing they probably had some drug deal going down and that's why they needed the cash so fast, but I didn't care because I was annoyed.
Then Nazi Truck Lady yelled out the window at her husband the entire time I was there signing papers and letting her husband count the cash. She wanted to make sure he remembered how much I owed. And what person would remember to actually count the money if their wife wasn't screaming it at them? Because obviously not this guy! So she was just taking care of him, I guess. And she also wanted him to tell me one more time that I ought to pay the full amount her son asked for in the first place. I give this guy credit, I would have jumped off the nearest cliff if I lived with that woman, but apparently they have access to really good weed. Or at least he does and maybe he needs to share with her. And he didn't feel the need to remind me that I was taking advantage of his son, but that was probably more because I could plainly hear her saying it and it didn't need repeating.
So I finally got the title and hopefully everything else I need, and I made sure again that the truck wasn't stolen (but I'm still a little afraid that I'm going to find out differently when I try to tag it). I halfway wished I had gone for faster rather than bigger because I just wanted to get as far away from that place as I could. But luckily, I am still not soup, and neither is Brother, who was kind enough to go with me and make sure nobody got me.
All that being said, I came home to discover that I probably didn't need Ninja Truck after all, because Shucks was on the job...
Shucks: Look! Lookie Lookie Lookie!
Me: What, Shucks?
Shucks: Look what I got you!
Me: Um...that's Dustin's truck. It's been here for two weeks.
Shucks: I know! But I bought it! For you!
Me: You bought it?
Shucks: Yup, it's mine. But I want you to have it.
Me: Shucks, that isn't your truck. It's Dustin's.
Shucks: Nope, look... :::lifts leg...pees on truck::: See? Mine.
Me: Dude, that doesn't make it yours.
Shucks: :::melts to the ground and watches his entire belief system crumble around him::: Not mine...? But...I peed on it. How can this be?
Me: Ok, Shucks, I was kidding. Thank you for the truck, you're the best doggie in the whole world.
Sorry, Dustin, my dog marked your truck. I'm not sure on the legalities here, but I'm pretty sure you just got PWNED by my dog. Or your truck did. Whatevs.
Then Nazi Truck Lady yelled out the window at her husband the entire time I was there signing papers and letting her husband count the cash. She wanted to make sure he remembered how much I owed. And what person would remember to actually count the money if their wife wasn't screaming it at them? Because obviously not this guy! So she was just taking care of him, I guess. And she also wanted him to tell me one more time that I ought to pay the full amount her son asked for in the first place. I give this guy credit, I would have jumped off the nearest cliff if I lived with that woman, but apparently they have access to really good weed. Or at least he does and maybe he needs to share with her. And he didn't feel the need to remind me that I was taking advantage of his son, but that was probably more because I could plainly hear her saying it and it didn't need repeating.
So I finally got the title and hopefully everything else I need, and I made sure again that the truck wasn't stolen (but I'm still a little afraid that I'm going to find out differently when I try to tag it). I halfway wished I had gone for faster rather than bigger because I just wanted to get as far away from that place as I could. But luckily, I am still not soup, and neither is Brother, who was kind enough to go with me and make sure nobody got me.
All that being said, I came home to discover that I probably didn't need Ninja Truck after all, because Shucks was on the job...
Shucks: Look! Lookie Lookie Lookie!
Me: What, Shucks?
Shucks: Look what I got you!
Me: Um...that's Dustin's truck. It's been here for two weeks.
Shucks: I know! But I bought it! For you!
Me: You bought it?
Shucks: Yup, it's mine. But I want you to have it.
Me: Shucks, that isn't your truck. It's Dustin's.
Shucks: Nope, look... :::lifts leg...pees on truck::: See? Mine.
Me: Dude, that doesn't make it yours.
Shucks: :::melts to the ground and watches his entire belief system crumble around him::: Not mine...? But...I peed on it. How can this be?
Me: Ok, Shucks, I was kidding. Thank you for the truck, you're the best doggie in the whole world.
Sorry, Dustin, my dog marked your truck. I'm not sure on the legalities here, but I'm pretty sure you just got PWNED by my dog. Or your truck did. Whatevs.
Nov 21, 2010
Ninja Truck and Turkey, sans Nazi
I bought Ninja Truck. And I didn't get made into soup, but almost. I am very glad that the Nazi Truck Lady doesn't know where I live.
I'm going to have to have a little work done on it, so if anyone knows a good mechanic who charges about fifteen cents an hour and gets free parts, hook me up, yo. I'm pretty sure I got a good deal, because it wasn't until later that I realized the guy was actually asking $150, and he gave me the price of 100, then I tried to get him down to 75, and we settled on 90. Then he called me specifically to tell me a got a good deal (and why would he lie?) and also said that he was only doing it because I have kids. I knew those little short people would come in handy some time.
So, I am hoping I don't have to cram them into Dustin's truck anymore, and can cram them into my own truck which has more seating and enough space in the back for groceries and a baby elephant all at once.
And it gets great gas mileage, too.
Ok, that's a lie. But still...for seventy five dollars, who can complain?
Tomorrow is Monday, Interwebz. Can you do something about that, please? I get five days off for Thanksgiving (including the weekend), and yet I'm not satisfied...I want the entire week. Or maybe at least skip Monday.
I honestly have nothing to say today. Nobody made me mad all day. I got a truck but the Nazi didn't even come out to say hi or try to stab me or anything. I went to church but I didn't cry or inhale my gum. So I'm just not really all that funny.
Oh, and the ex isn't taking the kids over Thanksgiving break, but I'm glad because I know he can't. Unfortunately, Huston intercepted the text he sent me, so that's how they found out. Ex said he still felt "institutionalized", so the kids were all asking me where and why their daddy is "entrenched" because "institutionalized" is the one word Huston can't read, it seems. So, that was a fun explanation. They were disappointed, but I think it has more to do with the fact that they know I'll make them perform all the turkey songs they know if they have to spend it with me. Mwuahahahaha
The end.
I'm going to have to have a little work done on it, so if anyone knows a good mechanic who charges about fifteen cents an hour and gets free parts, hook me up, yo. I'm pretty sure I got a good deal, because it wasn't until later that I realized the guy was actually asking $150, and he gave me the price of 100, then I tried to get him down to 75, and we settled on 90. Then he called me specifically to tell me a got a good deal (and why would he lie?) and also said that he was only doing it because I have kids. I knew those little short people would come in handy some time.
So, I am hoping I don't have to cram them into Dustin's truck anymore, and can cram them into my own truck which has more seating and enough space in the back for groceries and a baby elephant all at once.
And it gets great gas mileage, too.
Ok, that's a lie. But still...for seventy five dollars, who can complain?
Tomorrow is Monday, Interwebz. Can you do something about that, please? I get five days off for Thanksgiving (including the weekend), and yet I'm not satisfied...I want the entire week. Or maybe at least skip Monday.
I honestly have nothing to say today. Nobody made me mad all day. I got a truck but the Nazi didn't even come out to say hi or try to stab me or anything. I went to church but I didn't cry or inhale my gum. So I'm just not really all that funny.
Oh, and the ex isn't taking the kids over Thanksgiving break, but I'm glad because I know he can't. Unfortunately, Huston intercepted the text he sent me, so that's how they found out. Ex said he still felt "institutionalized", so the kids were all asking me where and why their daddy is "entrenched" because "institutionalized" is the one word Huston can't read, it seems. So, that was a fun explanation. They were disappointed, but I think it has more to do with the fact that they know I'll make them perform all the turkey songs they know if they have to spend it with me. Mwuahahahaha
The end.
Nov 20, 2010
Nazi Truck Lady
I went to look at Ninja Truck today. It is being sold by a man who lives far away and has his parents showing it for him. I talked to his mother to make arrangements and I'm pretty sure she is a Nazi.
Is that wrong?
She yelled at me on the phone because I said that I could come any time this afternoon.
Nazi Truck Lady: What time?
Me: Any time after one.
NTL: It's Saturday! What time?
Me: As long as its after one, I can come any time that is good for you.
NTL: Well, you know, it's Saturday, we are very busy and HOW CAN I TELL YOU YES IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME AN EXACT TIME?????
Me: Ok, ummm...two?
NTL: No.
Me: Three?
NTL: No. Two thirty.
Me: Ok, I'll be there at two thirty.
NTL: NO, I CAN'T BE HERE AT TWO THIRTY! HOLD ON!
Me: ....
NTL: My husband will be here, come at two thirty.
Me: Ok, thanks! I'll see you then.
NTL: :::click:::
So I was very glad that I would be dealing with the husband and not the Nazi Lady, and I took my brother with me because I didn't want to be serially murdered by the husband, either.
The husband started to get in the back seat of the car to let us drive around a bit, and Nazi Lady came running outside. He rolled down the window and told her what he was doing and she just glared at him from the front porch. Maybe she thought we were the serial killers, but I think she was planning up a delicious MannyRee and Brother soup.
We rode around the block, and then did all that car-looking stuff like kick the tires, stare intently at the engine as if it will explode in a minute as a warning not to buy the car, and chat with the guy about mechanics and blah, blah, blah...
I told my brother I wanted the truck, but he told me it was leaking oil.
Here's the math. Say I have one hundred dollars to spend on a car, and I was willing to buy this car for that amount with only a couple needed repairs. Then I find out that it's leaking oil, which the owner failed to tell me about when he listed the other problems. So I offer seventy five dollars on the car, and plan to spend the other twenty five on repairing the car.
I called the Nazi Lady this evening...
Me: Hi, this is MannyRee, the one who looked at the car today.
NTL: Um, you looked at a car? So what?
Me: Well, I wanted to make an offer.
NTL: What? What do you....hold on. :::yells things at her husband:::
Me: ...
Then the husband gets on the phone.
Me: Hi. Ok, here's what I got for ya. There were a few things wrong with the truck that your son told me about, and also an oil leak that he didn't. I am not trying to low-ball you, but do you think he would take seventy-five dollars for the truck, because all I own in the world is one hundred, and if I spend all of it on the truck, I can't pay for repairs.
Nazi Husband: (he's not a Nazi, though, just married one) Oh, seventy-five?...
:::NTL screaming in the background:::: NOOOOOOOO!!!!! Those are NEW TIRES!!!!!
Husband: ...um..yeah, it's new tires..
NTL: NOOOOO!!!! VERY LOW! I'LL KILL YOU! HANG UP
Husband: Yes, well, you see, my son has put ...hold on
NTL: TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO!!!!! ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HER??? SHE'S TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU!!!! HANG UUUUUUUUUUP!!!!!
Husband: ...um, yes, as I was saying...new tires.
NTL: DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK HE'S PUT INTO THAT??? HANG UP! THAT'S VERY LOW! HE'S NOT TAKING SEVENTY FIVE!!!
Husband: ...yes, he's put a lot of work into that. How bout I give him a call and ask him, since it's his car (I think he was looking at his wife at this point, because he said it very pointedly and I was too busy Googling "how to not become Nazi Soup" to say anything).
NTL: NO! I SAID NO! YOU WON'T CALL...TELL HER NO.
Me: Ok, just let me know. Thanks so much and please don't let your wife kill me.
NTL: NOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Husband: :::click:::
I'm pretty sure that the husband is soup now, and nobody is going to be calling the son with my offer.
Is that wrong?
She yelled at me on the phone because I said that I could come any time this afternoon.
Nazi Truck Lady: What time?
Me: Any time after one.
NTL: It's Saturday! What time?
Me: As long as its after one, I can come any time that is good for you.
NTL: Well, you know, it's Saturday, we are very busy and HOW CAN I TELL YOU YES IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME AN EXACT TIME?????
Me: Ok, ummm...two?
NTL: No.
Me: Three?
NTL: No. Two thirty.
Me: Ok, I'll be there at two thirty.
NTL: NO, I CAN'T BE HERE AT TWO THIRTY! HOLD ON!
Me: ....
NTL: My husband will be here, come at two thirty.
Me: Ok, thanks! I'll see you then.
NTL: :::click:::
So I was very glad that I would be dealing with the husband and not the Nazi Lady, and I took my brother with me because I didn't want to be serially murdered by the husband, either.
The husband started to get in the back seat of the car to let us drive around a bit, and Nazi Lady came running outside. He rolled down the window and told her what he was doing and she just glared at him from the front porch. Maybe she thought we were the serial killers, but I think she was planning up a delicious MannyRee and Brother soup.
We rode around the block, and then did all that car-looking stuff like kick the tires, stare intently at the engine as if it will explode in a minute as a warning not to buy the car, and chat with the guy about mechanics and blah, blah, blah...
I told my brother I wanted the truck, but he told me it was leaking oil.
Here's the math. Say I have one hundred dollars to spend on a car, and I was willing to buy this car for that amount with only a couple needed repairs. Then I find out that it's leaking oil, which the owner failed to tell me about when he listed the other problems. So I offer seventy five dollars on the car, and plan to spend the other twenty five on repairing the car.
I called the Nazi Lady this evening...
Me: Hi, this is MannyRee, the one who looked at the car today.
NTL: Um, you looked at a car? So what?
Me: Well, I wanted to make an offer.
NTL: What? What do you....hold on. :::yells things at her husband:::
Me: ...
Then the husband gets on the phone.
Me: Hi. Ok, here's what I got for ya. There were a few things wrong with the truck that your son told me about, and also an oil leak that he didn't. I am not trying to low-ball you, but do you think he would take seventy-five dollars for the truck, because all I own in the world is one hundred, and if I spend all of it on the truck, I can't pay for repairs.
Nazi Husband: (he's not a Nazi, though, just married one) Oh, seventy-five?...
:::NTL screaming in the background:::: NOOOOOOOO!!!!! Those are NEW TIRES!!!!!
Husband: ...um..yeah, it's new tires..
NTL: NOOOOO!!!! VERY LOW! I'LL KILL YOU! HANG UP
Husband: Yes, well, you see, my son has put ...hold on
NTL: TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO!!!!! ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HER??? SHE'S TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU!!!! HANG UUUUUUUUUUP!!!!!
Husband: ...um, yes, as I was saying...new tires.
NTL: DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK HE'S PUT INTO THAT??? HANG UP! THAT'S VERY LOW! HE'S NOT TAKING SEVENTY FIVE!!!
Husband: ...yes, he's put a lot of work into that. How bout I give him a call and ask him, since it's his car (I think he was looking at his wife at this point, because he said it very pointedly and I was too busy Googling "how to not become Nazi Soup" to say anything).
NTL: NO! I SAID NO! YOU WON'T CALL...TELL HER NO.
Me: Ok, just let me know. Thanks so much and please don't let your wife kill me.
NTL: NOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Husband: :::click:::
I'm pretty sure that the husband is soup now, and nobody is going to be calling the son with my offer.
Nov 19, 2010
Responsed.
The ensuing correspondence, following yesterday's email:
Electric Company:
"If you would respond to this email with your account number and the last four digits of your social security number, we would be happy to look into this for you."
Me:
"Account number: ###########-#
Social Security: ####
I am fairly certain the words "non account specific" (which was the heading under which I sent my email, because it was the only one that didn't require my account number) mean that you don't need my account information to read my correspondence. Please don't cut off my power because I am a smartass...I'm pretty sure that smartasses get electricity, too. It's in the Constitution. I think."
Electric Company:
"Actually, 'non account specific' refers to inquiries that relate to general, non-electric service issues...to discuss your account information, such as deposits, we need to verify who we are speaking with...
The deposit held on your account is $635.00
:::An entire statement of my account history, followed with an explanation of different bill paying options:::
In any event, we do show a credit balance on the account, and would note that there is at this time no danger of disconnect whatsoever. (We would note that smartassery of any sort has no bearing on disconnect of service, for which more than a few of us around here, your humble correspondent included, are deeply grateful. We also understand that having service cut off for any reason is a highly stressful situation, and kept that in mind.)
With regards,
Electric Company
Me:
Thank you for the information. Perhaps it is Gas Company who has two thousand of my dollars.
I apologize for my incorrectness, I can assure you it doesn't happen often.
Thank you for not cutting me off due to smartassery, and also for my new favorite word, which is smartassery. It will be used often and well.
In humble apologies and sincere earnestness in paying my future bills on time,
MannyRee
Electric Company:
"If you would respond to this email with your account number and the last four digits of your social security number, we would be happy to look into this for you."
Me:
"Account number: ###########-#
Social Security: ####
I am fairly certain the words "non account specific" (which was the heading under which I sent my email, because it was the only one that didn't require my account number) mean that you don't need my account information to read my correspondence. Please don't cut off my power because I am a smartass...I'm pretty sure that smartasses get electricity, too. It's in the Constitution. I think."
Electric Company:
"Actually, 'non account specific' refers to inquiries that relate to general, non-electric service issues...to discuss your account information, such as deposits, we need to verify who we are speaking with...
The deposit held on your account is $635.00
:::An entire statement of my account history, followed with an explanation of different bill paying options:::
In any event, we do show a credit balance on the account, and would note that there is at this time no danger of disconnect whatsoever. (We would note that smartassery of any sort has no bearing on disconnect of service, for which more than a few of us around here, your humble correspondent included, are deeply grateful. We also understand that having service cut off for any reason is a highly stressful situation, and kept that in mind.)
With regards,
Electric Company
Me:
Thank you for the information. Perhaps it is Gas Company who has two thousand of my dollars.
I apologize for my incorrectness, I can assure you it doesn't happen often.
Thank you for not cutting me off due to smartassery, and also for my new favorite word, which is smartassery. It will be used often and well.
In humble apologies and sincere earnestness in paying my future bills on time,
MannyRee
Nov 18, 2010
Dear Electric Company
To Whom it May Concern (probably nobody):
I have been dealing with you for quite a few years, now. I believe the two of us have reached an impasse and should part ways. However, this is impossible until I am able to build my windmill and solar panels. Therefore, I am writing to you to address some of the issues we have had in the past. I realize that you do not care that I am unhappy with you as I have less of a chance of leaving this relationship than I do of remembering to pay my bill on time. But lets face it, neither one of those things is going to happen.
I realize that I forgot to pay you, even after you sent me the notice on the pretty colored paper. I had to put cash into my account so that I could call a payment in, but the problem lies in the fact that I also had to take all six of my children to the grocery store that same day. This lasted from the minute school got out that afternoon until after my kids' bedtime that evening, which meant that dinner and homework were done around midnight and the kids finally fell asleep just as our alarms were going off the next morning. Somehow, in all of this shuffle, I forgot to give you a call. I sincerely apologize.
When I came home yesterday ten minutes before your offices closed to find my power out, I was not impressed. I had just been listening to the weather man say that the temperatures would be in the twenties over night, and there was no way I could keep all the kids warm in that house with no power. Yet, still, I know I am to blame because I did forget to call you.
I just have one question. You see, over the last few years, due to my inability to pay you on time, you have cut off my power numerous times to demand more of a deposit. You are currently in possession of over two thousand of my dollars. Dollars that could buy me a truck so that I have something to drive every day, but instead, are sitting in your pocket earning me one dollar a month in interest. While I appreciate you storing my dollars for me, I would like them back before you cut off my power again, please. It doesn't make sense to me that you can cut the power when my bill is just over one hundred dollars. Essentially, you own me two thousand dollars, and I'm the one crammed into a hotel room with six screaming children. Somehow, this doesn't seem fair.
Does this have to do with the time I flipped you off for cutting my power and then telling me you were too far away (ten feet from my house) to turn it back on again? Because I thought we were over that after I sent you another five hundred dollars to add to my deposit. But if that is why you hate me, please tell me what I can do about it. Feel free to come to my house and I will point all my other fingers at you until the one finger is cancelled out. Maybe you would like to come over for Thanksgiving or Christmas? We could be like family. Only, half the time, I don't have electricity for those holidays, either, because hell, it's a stressful time and rife with opportunities for forgetting to pay you.
That brings me to my final issue, and frankly, the only fault I will admit to having where you are concerned. I just can't bring myself to pay you on time. I don't have a problem paying my other bills, it's only you, Electric Company. And it's because I don't like you. If I had a million dollars in my account and a check all written out in a stamped envelope sitting right in my lap as I went to the mailbox, I wouldn't put it in. Because I have a mental block when it comes to paying you and I'm pretty sure it's because of the things you have put me through over the years.
So in order to work toward a better relationship with you, because I just don't see a way to move on to greener pastures, I propose the following:
1. I will go to therapy and try to work past my electricity issues so that I can actually pay you on time.
2. You don't turn off my power until I am the one who owes you money and not the other way around. OR, you can just send me all but five hundred dollars of my deposit back and I can promise you I can find a good use for it.
Thank you, I look forward to a better future for both of us.
MannyRee
I have been dealing with you for quite a few years, now. I believe the two of us have reached an impasse and should part ways. However, this is impossible until I am able to build my windmill and solar panels. Therefore, I am writing to you to address some of the issues we have had in the past. I realize that you do not care that I am unhappy with you as I have less of a chance of leaving this relationship than I do of remembering to pay my bill on time. But lets face it, neither one of those things is going to happen.
I realize that I forgot to pay you, even after you sent me the notice on the pretty colored paper. I had to put cash into my account so that I could call a payment in, but the problem lies in the fact that I also had to take all six of my children to the grocery store that same day. This lasted from the minute school got out that afternoon until after my kids' bedtime that evening, which meant that dinner and homework were done around midnight and the kids finally fell asleep just as our alarms were going off the next morning. Somehow, in all of this shuffle, I forgot to give you a call. I sincerely apologize.
When I came home yesterday ten minutes before your offices closed to find my power out, I was not impressed. I had just been listening to the weather man say that the temperatures would be in the twenties over night, and there was no way I could keep all the kids warm in that house with no power. Yet, still, I know I am to blame because I did forget to call you.
I just have one question. You see, over the last few years, due to my inability to pay you on time, you have cut off my power numerous times to demand more of a deposit. You are currently in possession of over two thousand of my dollars. Dollars that could buy me a truck so that I have something to drive every day, but instead, are sitting in your pocket earning me one dollar a month in interest. While I appreciate you storing my dollars for me, I would like them back before you cut off my power again, please. It doesn't make sense to me that you can cut the power when my bill is just over one hundred dollars. Essentially, you own me two thousand dollars, and I'm the one crammed into a hotel room with six screaming children. Somehow, this doesn't seem fair.
Does this have to do with the time I flipped you off for cutting my power and then telling me you were too far away (ten feet from my house) to turn it back on again? Because I thought we were over that after I sent you another five hundred dollars to add to my deposit. But if that is why you hate me, please tell me what I can do about it. Feel free to come to my house and I will point all my other fingers at you until the one finger is cancelled out. Maybe you would like to come over for Thanksgiving or Christmas? We could be like family. Only, half the time, I don't have electricity for those holidays, either, because hell, it's a stressful time and rife with opportunities for forgetting to pay you.
That brings me to my final issue, and frankly, the only fault I will admit to having where you are concerned. I just can't bring myself to pay you on time. I don't have a problem paying my other bills, it's only you, Electric Company. And it's because I don't like you. If I had a million dollars in my account and a check all written out in a stamped envelope sitting right in my lap as I went to the mailbox, I wouldn't put it in. Because I have a mental block when it comes to paying you and I'm pretty sure it's because of the things you have put me through over the years.
So in order to work toward a better relationship with you, because I just don't see a way to move on to greener pastures, I propose the following:
1. I will go to therapy and try to work past my electricity issues so that I can actually pay you on time.
2. You don't turn off my power until I am the one who owes you money and not the other way around. OR, you can just send me all but five hundred dollars of my deposit back and I can promise you I can find a good use for it.
Thank you, I look forward to a better future for both of us.
MannyRee
Nov 16, 2010
Doin all the Right Things Wrong
Today I learned that I completely suck at not being perfect. Yes, that is what I learned, and yes, it makes sense.
I got a Bad Grade. And the fact that I am telling you, Interwebz, just shows what leaps of character I have made in my life over the last six hours, because when the teacher talked to me about it, I was gonna' punch her.
Well, I was going to punch her after I figured out how I could blame it on somebody else. See, the last couple low grades I got I was able to blame on DHS and stuff. This time, I don't really have much going on as far as stress, so I couldn't blame it on anyone else. Which sucks. Ya' know, because that means it was just me. Me? Yup...I'm still coming to terms with it.
After I decided not to punch anyone, the teacher laughed at me because she knew I was pissed, which, is it ever smart to laugh at the pissed person? I don't think so, but she's the boss, so I didn't yell at her or anything. She said "I knew you'd hate this. Um...did you read the book?" I'm all "Yes, I read the book....ok, well, no I didn't read the book. Because it was boring. Also, I already know how to do this. And also, the book was really, really boring." She laughed some more. I'm not sure why my demise was so funny to her.
As it turns out, I made corrections too early. Yes, I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes and make all corrections later. So, since I made the corrections early, pretty much everything was off except for the final total. Which meant I only got about forty percent of it right. OR....I got a hundred percent of it right and the stupid book people messed it all up from the beginning...I'm not sure. Ok, well, had I read the book, I would have known that I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes, which makes it all my mistake. There, I'll admit it. Psh.
I need a beer.
Anyway, My grade was bad. Very, very bad. I hate that. Especially because it got averaged in with all of my non-sucky grades and muddied up the water. Rude grade. That grade was an a-hole.
Luckily, my teacher is the opposite of an a-hole, so she's letting me do it over the "right" way. Psh again. Also, I have to read the stupid boring book. Grrr....even though I got a hundred percent on the test without reading it, I still have to read it. Actually, I'm not going to read it. That'll show 'em. I don't know who "them" are, but they shall be shown.
I also missed more points on all that Excel BS because I didn't bold some things. Really? Here, lemme show you. Would you like your titles to look like this:
NOT BOLD
or like this:
BOLD
Here's the deal...I like the bolded better, too, but I was copying off of a sheet of paper (not cheating, that was the assignment) and it was hard to tell if it was bold or not. The teacher couldn't even tell and had to pull up my document on the computer to check the format and see if I pressed bold or not. Yet, I have to do it over, because no, I did not press the freakin bold button. Grrrrrrrr....
She said "If your boss gives you a spreadsheet to recreate, and you miss something like this, you would be chewed out for it." I'm all "Really? That is the kind of job I'm training for? Because in my world, if my boss gives me a spreadsheet to recreate, I am going to ask him why the hell he didn't hit the little save button instead of having a stroke over my not hitting the bold button. But whatever, I'll go back and hit bold if it's going to make everyone happy."
Summing up today, I hate being wrong, I hate reading the boring book, and I hate the bold button.
I got a Bad Grade. And the fact that I am telling you, Interwebz, just shows what leaps of character I have made in my life over the last six hours, because when the teacher talked to me about it, I was gonna' punch her.
Well, I was going to punch her after I figured out how I could blame it on somebody else. See, the last couple low grades I got I was able to blame on DHS and stuff. This time, I don't really have much going on as far as stress, so I couldn't blame it on anyone else. Which sucks. Ya' know, because that means it was just me. Me? Yup...I'm still coming to terms with it.
After I decided not to punch anyone, the teacher laughed at me because she knew I was pissed, which, is it ever smart to laugh at the pissed person? I don't think so, but she's the boss, so I didn't yell at her or anything. She said "I knew you'd hate this. Um...did you read the book?" I'm all "Yes, I read the book....ok, well, no I didn't read the book. Because it was boring. Also, I already know how to do this. And also, the book was really, really boring." She laughed some more. I'm not sure why my demise was so funny to her.
As it turns out, I made corrections too early. Yes, I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes and make all corrections later. So, since I made the corrections early, pretty much everything was off except for the final total. Which meant I only got about forty percent of it right. OR....I got a hundred percent of it right and the stupid book people messed it all up from the beginning...I'm not sure. Ok, well, had I read the book, I would have known that I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes, which makes it all my mistake. There, I'll admit it. Psh.
I need a beer.
Anyway, My grade was bad. Very, very bad. I hate that. Especially because it got averaged in with all of my non-sucky grades and muddied up the water. Rude grade. That grade was an a-hole.
Luckily, my teacher is the opposite of an a-hole, so she's letting me do it over the "right" way. Psh again. Also, I have to read the stupid boring book. Grrr....even though I got a hundred percent on the test without reading it, I still have to read it. Actually, I'm not going to read it. That'll show 'em. I don't know who "them" are, but they shall be shown.
I also missed more points on all that Excel BS because I didn't bold some things. Really? Here, lemme show you. Would you like your titles to look like this:
NOT BOLD
or like this:
BOLD
Here's the deal...I like the bolded better, too, but I was copying off of a sheet of paper (not cheating, that was the assignment) and it was hard to tell if it was bold or not. The teacher couldn't even tell and had to pull up my document on the computer to check the format and see if I pressed bold or not. Yet, I have to do it over, because no, I did not press the freakin bold button. Grrrrrrrr....
She said "If your boss gives you a spreadsheet to recreate, and you miss something like this, you would be chewed out for it." I'm all "Really? That is the kind of job I'm training for? Because in my world, if my boss gives me a spreadsheet to recreate, I am going to ask him why the hell he didn't hit the little save button instead of having a stroke over my not hitting the bold button. But whatever, I'll go back and hit bold if it's going to make everyone happy."
Summing up today, I hate being wrong, I hate reading the boring book, and I hate the bold button.
Nov 15, 2010
Life Goal #15
What's up with texting?
I personally love it, but still. Is it just me or does it seem rude just to call someone anymore? I don't ever get phone calls anymore unless the person has texted me first to ask if it's ok if they call me. Of course it's ok! Didn't you call me every frickin day until last year when I finally got text on my phone? What's changed?
I mean, I don't mind if people ask before they call me, it's just that it weirds me out. Do I strike you as the type of person who would end our friendship over a spontaneous phone call? Is there something dark in my eyes that warns of certain death if you catch me off guard with the phone ringing with no preceding text tone?
Cell phones have changed our etiquette more than I can keep up with. I just don't get it anymore. Now I text all my friends before I call them, too, just in case I missed a rule somewhere. I don't want to throw off any one's day with an unscheduled phone call, even though it also seems to be appropriate to answer your phone no matter what you are doing. You know how they have those computer classes to teach the older generation how to use Windows or whatever? I think they should have celly etiquette classes for....well, young people like me who don't know what the hell is going on anymore.
Enough of that, I just sound old and mean now, which, Life Goal #15? Check.
On the way home today...
Huston: You just aren't rough on the cars, which is why you got stuck in the snow that one time and had to have Uncle Robby help.
Me: That's because I'm a lady.
Huston: Well, sometimes you have to be rough to stay alive, so...good luck with your life, lady.
I personally love it, but still. Is it just me or does it seem rude just to call someone anymore? I don't ever get phone calls anymore unless the person has texted me first to ask if it's ok if they call me. Of course it's ok! Didn't you call me every frickin day until last year when I finally got text on my phone? What's changed?
I mean, I don't mind if people ask before they call me, it's just that it weirds me out. Do I strike you as the type of person who would end our friendship over a spontaneous phone call? Is there something dark in my eyes that warns of certain death if you catch me off guard with the phone ringing with no preceding text tone?
Cell phones have changed our etiquette more than I can keep up with. I just don't get it anymore. Now I text all my friends before I call them, too, just in case I missed a rule somewhere. I don't want to throw off any one's day with an unscheduled phone call, even though it also seems to be appropriate to answer your phone no matter what you are doing. You know how they have those computer classes to teach the older generation how to use Windows or whatever? I think they should have celly etiquette classes for....well, young people like me who don't know what the hell is going on anymore.
Enough of that, I just sound old and mean now, which, Life Goal #15? Check.
On the way home today...
Huston: You just aren't rough on the cars, which is why you got stuck in the snow that one time and had to have Uncle Robby help.
Me: That's because I'm a lady.
Huston: Well, sometimes you have to be rough to stay alive, so...good luck with your life, lady.
Nov 14, 2010
Trucks, Disorders and Naps
I think Badass Truck is completely out of the question, although I did find a similar one for less money...it may work. Who knows. It kinda sucks not having a car. I heart Dustin's trucks, but lets face it, it sucked bad enough driving around with the kids trying to kill each other in the van. It's way more crappy when they're all crammed into a pickup. But still, Dustin's truck kicks Momvan's bootay.
I took a nap today. It was awesome and I totally needed it because I have managed to not sleep all weekend until then. Oh, except for the part where single parents shouldn't take naps, because there isn't another adult around to watch the short people.
The thing with kids is that they can undo an entire week's worth of work in less than ten minutes. So yeah. They did that. And more. No more napping for mommy, which is really fine because I'm a little mean if I take a nap because it takes me too long to wake up and then I don't want to sleep at night, which is why it's after one in the morning and I'm still awake even though I know that tomorrow is inevitably going to be yet another Monday. Also? A Monday without a car, which means I have nowhere to put all the papers the school sends home on Mondays and I need to take at least a couple hours out of the day to search for Ninja truck.
Also...if I don't find a car really soon, I'm going to run out of names to call them. Or I guess I should just stop naming them until I actually own one. But really? That's not fun. I do get a little attached if I name them, but not as attached as I would get if I had to fuel them up a few times or take them home to meet the kids.
And the kids don't even want a new car, not because they like sitting so close together, but more because they find it a giant pain in the bootay that I am spending time car shopping. Can you say spoiled? If their dad had just managed to not be sick over the weekend, I could probably have had it all taken care of. But noooo.....figures.
And I know that sounds mean, I am admittedly bitchy tonight, and not really mad at their dad for being sick. Actually, if you're feeling helpful, he could probably use a few prayers. Bipolar disorder is a Nazi asshole SOB, and I'm sure he's pretty miserable right now.
But at least he doesn't have to try to explain it to the kids, which I obviously suck at, since Being Bipolar seems to have become a life goal for a few of them. Little rebels.
Since it's so late and this post is basically just a really long status update, I think I'll move on to Facebook and bed. Maybe tomorrow I need to focus outwardly and not use Interwebz as a therapists couch. But thanks for letting me, Interwebz, because you make up for inaccuracy by being free.
I took a nap today. It was awesome and I totally needed it because I have managed to not sleep all weekend until then. Oh, except for the part where single parents shouldn't take naps, because there isn't another adult around to watch the short people.
The thing with kids is that they can undo an entire week's worth of work in less than ten minutes. So yeah. They did that. And more. No more napping for mommy, which is really fine because I'm a little mean if I take a nap because it takes me too long to wake up and then I don't want to sleep at night, which is why it's after one in the morning and I'm still awake even though I know that tomorrow is inevitably going to be yet another Monday. Also? A Monday without a car, which means I have nowhere to put all the papers the school sends home on Mondays and I need to take at least a couple hours out of the day to search for Ninja truck.
Also...if I don't find a car really soon, I'm going to run out of names to call them. Or I guess I should just stop naming them until I actually own one. But really? That's not fun. I do get a little attached if I name them, but not as attached as I would get if I had to fuel them up a few times or take them home to meet the kids.
And the kids don't even want a new car, not because they like sitting so close together, but more because they find it a giant pain in the bootay that I am spending time car shopping. Can you say spoiled? If their dad had just managed to not be sick over the weekend, I could probably have had it all taken care of. But noooo.....figures.
And I know that sounds mean, I am admittedly bitchy tonight, and not really mad at their dad for being sick. Actually, if you're feeling helpful, he could probably use a few prayers. Bipolar disorder is a Nazi asshole SOB, and I'm sure he's pretty miserable right now.
But at least he doesn't have to try to explain it to the kids, which I obviously suck at, since Being Bipolar seems to have become a life goal for a few of them. Little rebels.
Since it's so late and this post is basically just a really long status update, I think I'll move on to Facebook and bed. Maybe tomorrow I need to focus outwardly and not use Interwebz as a therapists couch. But thanks for letting me, Interwebz, because you make up for inaccuracy by being free.
Nov 13, 2010
Graceful Badass
In an effort to prove that I am still a ninja-mom, I attempted to walk down my sister's porch steps in the dark while simultaneously getting keys out of my pocket.
I busted my ass.
And it wasn't like I just tripped a little or anything. It was more like the earth beneath my feet went away, causing both of my feet to do this ballerina pointy toe thing, then the earth reappeared just in time to make my toes curl under my feet, both of my legs to bend the wrong way, and force me into an awesome yoga pose that nobody should ever do, especially if you're me and you hate yoga when you do it on purpose, let alone on accident, and also when six of your kids are watching you with a mixture of concern and laughter, obviously storing this up for future ridicule. (Although, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I made falling down the stairs look amazing.)
I sprained both wrists, which is awesome for typing and 10-key...which are my life. And I twisted both ankles (no right or left discrimination for me!), the exact type of injury you want to have when all the kids fall asleep on the way home and you have to carry them in. I did something to each knee, so instead of bending at the front of my legs, they kind of go in a little when I walk.
Also, I did something to my quads, which I thought was just a pulled muscle, but then I noticed that every time I point my toes, my eyes close. I don't understand it, but some wires must have crossed somewhere. It's not a huge deal, except when I'm driving a truck that's just a tad too big for me and I have to point my toe to go a little faster, then it's a little hard to see where I'm going so fast, and try explaining that to a police officer when you are driving around with seven people squeezed into a pickup that's not registered to you and it's midnight and you haven't slept for two days so it looks like you've been drinking when really you're just up all night worrying about people who don't really need you to be their mom and you don't really need to be their mom because you have six kids of your own who are currently very busy trying to convince the officer that they don't belong to you and will he please take them back to their old life when they had a bigger car? Yeah, not so easy, is it?
And I found a truck today. Her name is Badass, but she costs just a little too much. She had room for kids and groceries -- at the same time. I was a little too excited about that, so maybe that's why the guy didn't believe that I couldn't pay him more than I offered. But I gosta pay for the gas after I buy a vehicle, yo, so I can't just be buying trucks all willy-nilly and then not having the means to keep them on the road. Oh well, I think I can get a job with the circus now that I have this awesome toe-point-eye-close trick.
I busted my ass.
And it wasn't like I just tripped a little or anything. It was more like the earth beneath my feet went away, causing both of my feet to do this ballerina pointy toe thing, then the earth reappeared just in time to make my toes curl under my feet, both of my legs to bend the wrong way, and force me into an awesome yoga pose that nobody should ever do, especially if you're me and you hate yoga when you do it on purpose, let alone on accident, and also when six of your kids are watching you with a mixture of concern and laughter, obviously storing this up for future ridicule. (Although, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I made falling down the stairs look amazing.)
I sprained both wrists, which is awesome for typing and 10-key...which are my life. And I twisted both ankles (no right or left discrimination for me!), the exact type of injury you want to have when all the kids fall asleep on the way home and you have to carry them in. I did something to each knee, so instead of bending at the front of my legs, they kind of go in a little when I walk.
Also, I did something to my quads, which I thought was just a pulled muscle, but then I noticed that every time I point my toes, my eyes close. I don't understand it, but some wires must have crossed somewhere. It's not a huge deal, except when I'm driving a truck that's just a tad too big for me and I have to point my toe to go a little faster, then it's a little hard to see where I'm going so fast, and try explaining that to a police officer when you are driving around with seven people squeezed into a pickup that's not registered to you and it's midnight and you haven't slept for two days so it looks like you've been drinking when really you're just up all night worrying about people who don't really need you to be their mom and you don't really need to be their mom because you have six kids of your own who are currently very busy trying to convince the officer that they don't belong to you and will he please take them back to their old life when they had a bigger car? Yeah, not so easy, is it?
And I found a truck today. Her name is Badass, but she costs just a little too much. She had room for kids and groceries -- at the same time. I was a little too excited about that, so maybe that's why the guy didn't believe that I couldn't pay him more than I offered. But I gosta pay for the gas after I buy a vehicle, yo, so I can't just be buying trucks all willy-nilly and then not having the means to keep them on the road. Oh well, I think I can get a job with the circus now that I have this awesome toe-point-eye-close trick.
Nov 12, 2010
WANTED:
Position open for Backup Baby-Daddy.
Duties include:
Watching the kids when the ex is unable to do so.
Um, that's pretty much it.
Requirements:
Know stuff about kids
Don't suck
Be on call every weekend
Ability to handle six young people for a day and a half without calling me
Third row seating
Compensation:
My undying gratitude
Other Information:
I don't want another "ex", so there will be no wedding or anything...you just take the kids when he can't. You don't even have to be a dude. Actually, I'd prefer you not be, because not a lot of dudes can't handle this. And there won't be any of the other "ex" duties, such as paying child support or random phone calls where you get to try out all your favorite curse words. Unfortunately, the stalker position has been phased out, and all positions in lawyer-calling, text message-saving, and phone call-recording have been filled. As I said, I just need ya' to watch the kids every once in awhile, because mama gets a little crazy when she doesn't have her alone time.
If you are interested in this position, please fax your resume.
There will be a background check and random drug testing. We have a zero-tolerance drug policy. If, at any time during your employment, you test positive for drugs, we reserve the right to confiscate anything we deem appropriate and not disclose what we have done with it.
Duties include:
Watching the kids when the ex is unable to do so.
Um, that's pretty much it.
Requirements:
Know stuff about kids
Don't suck
Be on call every weekend
Ability to handle six young people for a day and a half without calling me
Third row seating
Compensation:
My undying gratitude
Other Information:
I don't want another "ex", so there will be no wedding or anything...you just take the kids when he can't. You don't even have to be a dude. Actually, I'd prefer you not be, because not a lot of dudes can't handle this. And there won't be any of the other "ex" duties, such as paying child support or random phone calls where you get to try out all your favorite curse words. Unfortunately, the stalker position has been phased out, and all positions in lawyer-calling, text message-saving, and phone call-recording have been filled. As I said, I just need ya' to watch the kids every once in awhile, because mama gets a little crazy when she doesn't have her alone time.
If you are interested in this position, please fax your resume.
There will be a background check and random drug testing. We have a zero-tolerance drug policy. If, at any time during your employment, you test positive for drugs, we reserve the right to confiscate anything we deem appropriate and not disclose what we have done with it.
Nov 11, 2010
Brothers
I witnessed my boys being true brothers to their little sister today as they gave her advice about boys...
Madi: Some of the boys in my class scream and run away when I try to play with them.
Warrick: Oh, that means they like you.
Madi: What? Why?
Dalton: That's just how boys are.
Warrick: Yeah, if they like a girl, they're mean to them. Let me ask you, are you famous in your class?
Madi: What does famous mean?
Dalton: Do you have a lot of friends? I'm friends with everyone in my class, plus I have twelve girlfriends.
Madi: Well, I have lots of friends.
Warrick: Then you're famous, so the boys like you.
Dalton: Do you have lots of boyfriends?
Madi: Ummm....what's a lot?
Dalton: Well, do you have twelve? Because nobody has twelve...well, I have twelve girlfriends, but I'm pretty famous. You don't have twelve, do you?
Madi: ...
Warrick: It doesn't matter, it goes like this: If the boys say that they like you, then they want to be friends. If they say "I don't listen to girls", that means they like you like you. If they run and scream, that means they love you. But that's gross...I don't like girls at all.
Madi: But I heard you say that you don't listen to girls.
Warrick: Oh, yeah, well I don't. I meant it, though...I'm a boy, so I know when boys are saying what they really mean or when they're just pretending, and I was meaning it. I don't like girls. But those boys in your class just like you.
Madi: :::giggles:::
___________________________________________
I still haven't found my Mystery Machine, so if anyone knows of one that is for sale for $22, please buy it for me and I'll getcha' back. Or I'll make you Interwebz famous.
Madi: Some of the boys in my class scream and run away when I try to play with them.
Warrick: Oh, that means they like you.
Madi: What? Why?
Dalton: That's just how boys are.
Warrick: Yeah, if they like a girl, they're mean to them. Let me ask you, are you famous in your class?
Madi: What does famous mean?
Dalton: Do you have a lot of friends? I'm friends with everyone in my class, plus I have twelve girlfriends.
Madi: Well, I have lots of friends.
Warrick: Then you're famous, so the boys like you.
Dalton: Do you have lots of boyfriends?
Madi: Ummm....what's a lot?
Dalton: Well, do you have twelve? Because nobody has twelve...well, I have twelve girlfriends, but I'm pretty famous. You don't have twelve, do you?
Madi: ...
Warrick: It doesn't matter, it goes like this: If the boys say that they like you, then they want to be friends. If they say "I don't listen to girls", that means they like you like you. If they run and scream, that means they love you. But that's gross...I don't like girls at all.
Madi: But I heard you say that you don't listen to girls.
Warrick: Oh, yeah, well I don't. I meant it, though...I'm a boy, so I know when boys are saying what they really mean or when they're just pretending, and I was meaning it. I don't like girls. But those boys in your class just like you.
Madi: :::giggles:::
___________________________________________
I still haven't found my Mystery Machine, so if anyone knows of one that is for sale for $22, please buy it for me and I'll getcha' back. Or I'll make you Interwebz famous.
Nov 10, 2010
Kids
Sometimes I wonder what in the world my kids think about all day.
Second day of riding the bus for my oldest three, and the bus just didn't show up. I have no idea where it was, it didn't even drive past the stop. I was a little angry, because the kids are being picked up far enough away that I can't see them from my house, and they were standing at the stop on a main road for thirty minutes. Luckily, I'm a freaked out nervous mom and I was with them, but there wasn't any way for the bus driver to know that, so I wasn't very impressed that my boys were left standing there for so long. And no, yuk it up all you want, but we weren't late, we were ten minutes early. Do expect this to change in the near future. Yesterday, on their first day to ride, a mom pulled up right behind the bus, jumped out of her car, grabbed her kid and threw him on. She had obviously been late for their own stop. This will be me in the near future.
So I had to take the boys to school. No big deal. We had plenty of time to get there. Since we are still borrowing the truck, the kids are all squished together in the back, so I told the youngest two to stay away from the door while the other kids tried to squeeze their way out. The youngest two don't listen, so they threw off their seat belts and crowded against the door to see out the window right as Dalton was opening it. Donovan fell out. Yup...prime parenting moment right there...sitting in front of Snob School with all the yuppies lined up behind me and all the teachers standing in a row and my three year old just falls right out of the car into the drop off loop. I was a proud mommy right then. Then, in case nobody actually saw it, he screamed as if I had also run him over after I got done pushing him to his doom.
I was a little taken aback, because the teachers are supposed to help the kids out of the car, but were ignoring mine for some reason, and just sat there and stared at my son as he rolled around screaming. I did actually get out of the truck and go get him, but it just took me a minute, because I got all tangled up in my seat belt and then forgot that I wasn't driving a van and I may or may not have misjudged how big of a step it was and fallen down for just a second. Maybe. So that was our morning. Not exactly a great start, but mostly the worst thing that happened all day, so it wasn't too bad.
Donovan didn't break any bones or get run over or anything, so it ended up better than the incident yesterday when he slipped and busted his entire face...and that didn't involve moving vehicles or parking lots or anything -- only an innocent wood floor and a sock.
After school, we were all crowded back into the truck, and Huston started lecturing me on how to drive, because he's a boy and it's a truck and I'm only a girl, so I probably don't know what I'm doing. And I know I shouldn't go all "HA! You're WRONG!" on my own kids, but sometimes I get tired of my boys thinking that I don't know anything because I'm a girl, so I couldn't help but be a little snarky in my head when he pointed out this button:
Second day of riding the bus for my oldest three, and the bus just didn't show up. I have no idea where it was, it didn't even drive past the stop. I was a little angry, because the kids are being picked up far enough away that I can't see them from my house, and they were standing at the stop on a main road for thirty minutes. Luckily, I'm a freaked out nervous mom and I was with them, but there wasn't any way for the bus driver to know that, so I wasn't very impressed that my boys were left standing there for so long. And no, yuk it up all you want, but we weren't late, we were ten minutes early. Do expect this to change in the near future. Yesterday, on their first day to ride, a mom pulled up right behind the bus, jumped out of her car, grabbed her kid and threw him on. She had obviously been late for their own stop. This will be me in the near future.
So I had to take the boys to school. No big deal. We had plenty of time to get there. Since we are still borrowing the truck, the kids are all squished together in the back, so I told the youngest two to stay away from the door while the other kids tried to squeeze their way out. The youngest two don't listen, so they threw off their seat belts and crowded against the door to see out the window right as Dalton was opening it. Donovan fell out. Yup...prime parenting moment right there...sitting in front of Snob School with all the yuppies lined up behind me and all the teachers standing in a row and my three year old just falls right out of the car into the drop off loop. I was a proud mommy right then. Then, in case nobody actually saw it, he screamed as if I had also run him over after I got done pushing him to his doom.
I was a little taken aback, because the teachers are supposed to help the kids out of the car, but were ignoring mine for some reason, and just sat there and stared at my son as he rolled around screaming. I did actually get out of the truck and go get him, but it just took me a minute, because I got all tangled up in my seat belt and then forgot that I wasn't driving a van and I may or may not have misjudged how big of a step it was and fallen down for just a second. Maybe. So that was our morning. Not exactly a great start, but mostly the worst thing that happened all day, so it wasn't too bad.
Donovan didn't break any bones or get run over or anything, so it ended up better than the incident yesterday when he slipped and busted his entire face...and that didn't involve moving vehicles or parking lots or anything -- only an innocent wood floor and a sock.
After school, we were all crowded back into the truck, and Huston started lecturing me on how to drive, because he's a boy and it's a truck and I'm only a girl, so I probably don't know what I'm doing. And I know I shouldn't go all "HA! You're WRONG!" on my own kids, but sometimes I get tired of my boys thinking that I don't know anything because I'm a girl, so I couldn't help but be a little snarky in my head when he pointed out this button:
And then proceeded to tell me that it's the button you press if you would like Indians to shoot arrows into your car for any reason. Yeah, girls are so dumb.
Nov 9, 2010
Death of the Mystery Machine
My Mystery Machine was already sold by the time I got out of the house this morning. If you are the person who bought it, please bring it back, but you can go ahead and paint it green first if you want.
In other news, I HATE Excel. It's all "OMG, write me formulas that don't make frickin sense and I'll make exclamation points and ask if you want help and then not help at all until you DIIIIE" Stupid Excel. I'm pretty sure I could just fill in the blanks easier myself without writing formulas and stuff. It's way too close to algebra for this nerd.
So I came home to see what I was doing wrong, and it turns out I was doing it right. So dang it. I screwed up the test even after I had everything right. This is why I hate algebra...things should make sense.
If I want to know how much I will be paying for a purchase after all payments and interest, I can just do it up on a calculator, no problem. But if I have to write a formula for it, forget it...I don't know how I know the answer, I just know that I know it.
Mystery Machine buyer and Excel, I'm gonna' send the rednecks after you.
In other news, I HATE Excel. It's all "OMG, write me formulas that don't make frickin sense and I'll make exclamation points and ask if you want help and then not help at all until you DIIIIE" Stupid Excel. I'm pretty sure I could just fill in the blanks easier myself without writing formulas and stuff. It's way too close to algebra for this nerd.
So I came home to see what I was doing wrong, and it turns out I was doing it right. So dang it. I screwed up the test even after I had everything right. This is why I hate algebra...things should make sense.
If I want to know how much I will be paying for a purchase after all payments and interest, I can just do it up on a calculator, no problem. But if I have to write a formula for it, forget it...I don't know how I know the answer, I just know that I know it.
Mystery Machine buyer and Excel, I'm gonna' send the rednecks after you.
Nov 8, 2010
Death of Momvan
It's official. Momvan has decided to move on to greener pastures which, for momvans is pretty much being sold for your weight and scrapped for parts...kinda like being a mom, actually. Unless you can find some awesome sugar-daddy who wants to buy the parts to put on you, but you have to have a prettier face than momvan for that stuff, so she's the part-giver, not the part-getter.
Now, I have to find something that fits seven people and costs less than twenty dollars, and then get financing for the twenty dollars over just a year or so...until I can get a frickin job. It's all good, yo. I found a van today on the side of the road for just over twenty dollars. I wonder if they would come down a little? It said "Runs and Drives good" on the window, which, judging from the grammar, means it would be the Best Van Ever. The other window claimed "CLASSIC", and who doesn't want a classic van for just over twenty bucks? I know I do, and not just because I wanna' rename my kids to Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Velma, Scooby, and the last one would just be Dooby-Doo. And I'm sure that the cloud of smoke that was hanging around it would help the kids chill in the car instead of trying to kill each other. I think we really can't go wrong with the Mystery Machine.
And it's not the real Mystery Machine, guys, so don't go all I wanna come over and get your car's autograph on me, ok? Because my Mystery Machine is white, and needs to be painted, and is also not a cartoon. But if you come over anyway, bring beer and something we can smoke in the van. Also some Scooby Snacks, and by Scooby Snacks I mean boneless buffalo wings. And a babysitter.
It's already a fiasco to pick the kids up from school...the teachers all know the momvan, and I'm the only one picking up six kids from one school, so I am thinking it would just give the kids some extra thing to talk about when they're grown up and in therapy if I bought a Mystery Machine and I've pretty much just sold myself the van as I was writing this post. I hope it's still there in the morning.
Now, I have to find something that fits seven people and costs less than twenty dollars, and then get financing for the twenty dollars over just a year or so...until I can get a frickin job. It's all good, yo. I found a van today on the side of the road for just over twenty dollars. I wonder if they would come down a little? It said "Runs and Drives good" on the window, which, judging from the grammar, means it would be the Best Van Ever. The other window claimed "CLASSIC", and who doesn't want a classic van for just over twenty bucks? I know I do, and not just because I wanna' rename my kids to Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Velma, Scooby, and the last one would just be Dooby-Doo. And I'm sure that the cloud of smoke that was hanging around it would help the kids chill in the car instead of trying to kill each other. I think we really can't go wrong with the Mystery Machine.
And it's not the real Mystery Machine, guys, so don't go all I wanna come over and get your car's autograph on me, ok? Because my Mystery Machine is white, and needs to be painted, and is also not a cartoon. But if you come over anyway, bring beer and something we can smoke in the van. Also some Scooby Snacks, and by Scooby Snacks I mean boneless buffalo wings. And a babysitter.
It's already a fiasco to pick the kids up from school...the teachers all know the momvan, and I'm the only one picking up six kids from one school, so I am thinking it would just give the kids some extra thing to talk about when they're grown up and in therapy if I bought a Mystery Machine and I've pretty much just sold myself the van as I was writing this post. I hope it's still there in the morning.
Nov 7, 2010
Chats with Shucks 4
Me: Shucks, where did you get this newspaper?
Shucks: I didn't get it, it was just here.
Me: No, I don't think so. We don't get the paper. Where did you get it? Did you steal the neighbor's paper?
Shucks: Who, me? Just because I eat a couple chickens, you think I'm low enough to steal their paper? Psh
Me: Yes, but I can't figure out how you got to the end of the drive when you've been tied up all day.
Shucks: Exactly...I didn't get the paper.
Me: Who did?
Shucks: It was just here, and it was already shredded like this, too...I had nothing to do with it.
Me: Really? I think you have a sugar-mama.
Shucks: Excuse me? What is that?
Me: I think the neighbor's dog is "keeping you", Shucks.
Shucks: What are you talking about??? All these accusations over a paper?
Me: No, but you had a chicken the other day, and I'm pretty sure it didn't get to your spot in answer to your constant calling of "GET OVER HERE, CHICKEN, LET ME EAT YOU!!!" I've seen the chickens laugh at you for that -- they're not coming anywhere near you.
Shucks: Wellll...maybe she did bring me the chicken.
Me: And the possum? Which, disgusting, by the way.
Shucks: Which possum? The one by your car, on the sidewalk, or over in the grass?
Me: Any of them?
Shucks: Ummm....she brought me all three of them.
Me: And the paper?
Shucks: Well, it's our first anniversary, which is paper, as you know...and see? She was being romantic and then we had so much fun shredding it up...and it was such a good memory.
Me: Is that why it's buried in the yard? Because I thought you were feeling guilty over the holes in the yard, and you filled them in. Turns out, they're all full of shredded up paper under a little bit of dirt.
Shucks: I just wanted to remind myself of how much fun it was. Also, I'm part cat, part fox, part dog, and just a little bit bird, so those are nests...
Me: Nests.
Shucks: ...
Me: Are you planning on laying eggs?
Shucks: Well, about that....
Me: No, you don't get to lay eggs and also chase chickens. I think there is something wrong with you.
Shucks: Oh, something wrong with me??? Who made their son get rid of the chicken and the possums? Wasn't that you, Little Miss Has it All Together? Yeah. It was. So get off my case.
Me: I'm not discussing this further. No more nests in the yard, people are starting to think you're not really a dog. Also? It would be awesome if you could quit using the Death Bark on the chickens, and start using it on people who are in our driveway at two in the morning.
Shucks: But I looove chicken. And the people were your brothers.
Me: This time it was my brothers, but I check the windows every time you bark and see nothing...the one time it's actual people, you just let them come on in.
Shucks: I'll bark at the people in exchange for building nests and a chicken per week.
Me: No.
Shucks: Nobody loves me like the neighbor's dog does.
Shucks: I didn't get it, it was just here.
Me: No, I don't think so. We don't get the paper. Where did you get it? Did you steal the neighbor's paper?
Shucks: Who, me? Just because I eat a couple chickens, you think I'm low enough to steal their paper? Psh
Me: Yes, but I can't figure out how you got to the end of the drive when you've been tied up all day.
Shucks: Exactly...I didn't get the paper.
Me: Who did?
Shucks: It was just here, and it was already shredded like this, too...I had nothing to do with it.
Me: Really? I think you have a sugar-mama.
Shucks: Excuse me? What is that?
Me: I think the neighbor's dog is "keeping you", Shucks.
Shucks: What are you talking about??? All these accusations over a paper?
Me: No, but you had a chicken the other day, and I'm pretty sure it didn't get to your spot in answer to your constant calling of "GET OVER HERE, CHICKEN, LET ME EAT YOU!!!" I've seen the chickens laugh at you for that -- they're not coming anywhere near you.
Shucks: Wellll...maybe she did bring me the chicken.
Me: And the possum? Which, disgusting, by the way.
Shucks: Which possum? The one by your car, on the sidewalk, or over in the grass?
Me: Any of them?
Shucks: Ummm....she brought me all three of them.
Me: And the paper?
Shucks: Well, it's our first anniversary, which is paper, as you know...and see? She was being romantic and then we had so much fun shredding it up...and it was such a good memory.
Me: Is that why it's buried in the yard? Because I thought you were feeling guilty over the holes in the yard, and you filled them in. Turns out, they're all full of shredded up paper under a little bit of dirt.
Shucks: I just wanted to remind myself of how much fun it was. Also, I'm part cat, part fox, part dog, and just a little bit bird, so those are nests...
Me: Nests.
Shucks: ...
Me: Are you planning on laying eggs?
Shucks: Well, about that....
Me: No, you don't get to lay eggs and also chase chickens. I think there is something wrong with you.
Shucks: Oh, something wrong with me??? Who made their son get rid of the chicken and the possums? Wasn't that you, Little Miss Has it All Together? Yeah. It was. So get off my case.
Me: I'm not discussing this further. No more nests in the yard, people are starting to think you're not really a dog. Also? It would be awesome if you could quit using the Death Bark on the chickens, and start using it on people who are in our driveway at two in the morning.
Shucks: But I looove chicken. And the people were your brothers.
Me: This time it was my brothers, but I check the windows every time you bark and see nothing...the one time it's actual people, you just let them come on in.
Shucks: I'll bark at the people in exchange for building nests and a chicken per week.
Me: No.
Shucks: Nobody loves me like the neighbor's dog does.
Nov 6, 2010
Letters
Dear Kids,
Next time you go to your dad's and I have to have company that day, please get your crap off the floor before you go. My back hurts.
Love,
Mom
Dear Spider,
You're a jerk. I was trying to scrub my kitchen floor, and it's not easy for an old lady like me to jump up off the floor. I'm pretty sure you knew that, because you were probably sitting on that light fixture stalking me for a few days to make sure I was crippled enough for you to take advantage of me.
I have to give you props...you patiently waited while I scrubbed the entire floor, and timed your launch into my hair just perfectly. I guess you didn't realize that, while I can't get off the floor very quickly, I am a ninja with a bucket of water and a rag.
Nice move, by the way, trying to climb up your little string and await my return to the spot under the light. Too bad I got you with my trusty Windex bottle. What Mr. Clean can't fix, Windex can, yo...And your trashcan grave was more than you deserved for your schemes.
With all my love,
MannyRee
Dear House,
I love you truly. Maybe I am the only person who "gets you"...maybe not. But I love you. I know I was hard on you today. I had to be, though, because you've become such a slob, and that won't work for me. You really should take better care of yourself. I hope we won't have to discuss this in the future.
Love,
Me
Dear Momvan,
Please come home and start working again. I didn't realize how much you meant to us...
And really, can you be a momvan without the mom? No, you can't. Without me, you're just a van....which, not going to get you any cool points, you know? Not like "momvan" does. Everyone knows how cool those are. So come back, yo. Just till I can find my one and only truck.
xoxoxo
Mom
Next time you go to your dad's and I have to have company that day, please get your crap off the floor before you go. My back hurts.
Love,
Mom
Dear Spider,
You're a jerk. I was trying to scrub my kitchen floor, and it's not easy for an old lady like me to jump up off the floor. I'm pretty sure you knew that, because you were probably sitting on that light fixture stalking me for a few days to make sure I was crippled enough for you to take advantage of me.
I have to give you props...you patiently waited while I scrubbed the entire floor, and timed your launch into my hair just perfectly. I guess you didn't realize that, while I can't get off the floor very quickly, I am a ninja with a bucket of water and a rag.
Nice move, by the way, trying to climb up your little string and await my return to the spot under the light. Too bad I got you with my trusty Windex bottle. What Mr. Clean can't fix, Windex can, yo...And your trashcan grave was more than you deserved for your schemes.
With all my love,
MannyRee
Dear House,
I love you truly. Maybe I am the only person who "gets you"...maybe not. But I love you. I know I was hard on you today. I had to be, though, because you've become such a slob, and that won't work for me. You really should take better care of yourself. I hope we won't have to discuss this in the future.
Love,
Me
Dear Momvan,
Please come home and start working again. I didn't realize how much you meant to us...
And really, can you be a momvan without the mom? No, you can't. Without me, you're just a van....which, not going to get you any cool points, you know? Not like "momvan" does. Everyone knows how cool those are. So come back, yo. Just till I can find my one and only truck.
xoxoxo
Mom
Nov 5, 2010
Crack, Weed and Xanax
When the momvan 'sploded yesterday, I made an instant decision that I wasn't going to let it stress me out. Yes, I realize that I don't have a job, and that I have to get seven people where they belong every day, and that there is absolutely no way that I can fix this situation, but being all pissy about it won't help anything, right?
I was very proud of myself, I didn't yell or cry or anything. And I was actually in a good mood. There is a certain freedom that comes with realizing that you can't fix something and you just have to see what happens...it's an adventure, yo. Also, my brother in law (the one that is famous) is letting me use his truck for a few days (well, my sister is letting me use his truck, and I'm not sure if she told him or not), and I kind of like it better than ANY van, so I don't mind "needing" to drive the truck around. *sigh* how I miss my truck.
Whatever, anyway...When I decide not to stress, I usually find that I have some physical reaction. When I was a kid and got nervous or excited, I would be sick for two weeks at a time and lose 15 pounds. I wish I still had that problem. Then, it turned into migraines, then I held my breath without noticing until I got all dizzy or woke up dead (which, pretty bad start to any day, ya know?). That changed to clenching my jaw to the point that my face hurt so bad I once went to my doc and told him I was having a stroke but he laughed at me. For the last few months, I've really been working on not doing that, because it does hurt and I don't like it.
When I left my momvan on the side of the road, my neck started itching, but I wasn't throwing up, I didn't have a headache, I was breathing and my teeth weren't clenched, so it's all good, right? Nope. Now, I have this awesome itchy neck and face thing, which made for a good impression during class today when I looked like I was addicted to crack.
I want to know where you're supposed to store stress? It's going to come out, I think. Either you freak out and yell or cry, or your body starts falling apart. Did you know that zombies are really people who are just having stress reactions? Neither did I until I woke up as a zombie this morning, with my skin falling off and a strange craving for flesh...but now I know. In case of the zombie apocalypse, just hit 'em with some Xanax, and while you're at it, light a joint and save yourself, yo.
And I'm a little angry at you, Interwebz, because I get lots of readers but few followers. This isn't a problem, really, other than the fact that I don't know who is reading, and what if I need to ask a question but I don't know if any of you can answer it? For instance, if I wanted to know how trustworthy an old Chevy 6.5L turbo diesel may be, would you know? I don't know if you would know! This is a problem, Interwebz. A serious problem. Interwebz, I don't want to have to Google you, so will you just be honest with me about this issue? Otherwise I may have to turn this into a diesel blog, and I'm pretty sure that you don't want that. Also? Diesel is awesome, but not funny, so I don't want that, either.
I was very proud of myself, I didn't yell or cry or anything. And I was actually in a good mood. There is a certain freedom that comes with realizing that you can't fix something and you just have to see what happens...it's an adventure, yo. Also, my brother in law (the one that is famous) is letting me use his truck for a few days (well, my sister is letting me use his truck, and I'm not sure if she told him or not), and I kind of like it better than ANY van, so I don't mind "needing" to drive the truck around. *sigh* how I miss my truck.
Whatever, anyway...When I decide not to stress, I usually find that I have some physical reaction. When I was a kid and got nervous or excited, I would be sick for two weeks at a time and lose 15 pounds. I wish I still had that problem. Then, it turned into migraines, then I held my breath without noticing until I got all dizzy or woke up dead (which, pretty bad start to any day, ya know?). That changed to clenching my jaw to the point that my face hurt so bad I once went to my doc and told him I was having a stroke but he laughed at me. For the last few months, I've really been working on not doing that, because it does hurt and I don't like it.
When I left my momvan on the side of the road, my neck started itching, but I wasn't throwing up, I didn't have a headache, I was breathing and my teeth weren't clenched, so it's all good, right? Nope. Now, I have this awesome itchy neck and face thing, which made for a good impression during class today when I looked like I was addicted to crack.
I want to know where you're supposed to store stress? It's going to come out, I think. Either you freak out and yell or cry, or your body starts falling apart. Did you know that zombies are really people who are just having stress reactions? Neither did I until I woke up as a zombie this morning, with my skin falling off and a strange craving for flesh...but now I know. In case of the zombie apocalypse, just hit 'em with some Xanax, and while you're at it, light a joint and save yourself, yo.
And I'm a little angry at you, Interwebz, because I get lots of readers but few followers. This isn't a problem, really, other than the fact that I don't know who is reading, and what if I need to ask a question but I don't know if any of you can answer it? For instance, if I wanted to know how trustworthy an old Chevy 6.5L turbo diesel may be, would you know? I don't know if you would know! This is a problem, Interwebz. A serious problem. Interwebz, I don't want to have to Google you, so will you just be honest with me about this issue? Otherwise I may have to turn this into a diesel blog, and I'm pretty sure that you don't want that. Also? Diesel is awesome, but not funny, so I don't want that, either.
Nov 4, 2010
Today
I shouldn't write today. I just need to button up and move on. But then, what would the Interwebz do at bedtime? Probably something less Awesome than reading about my day, so I kind of owe it to Interwebz, right?
So, my dearest Webbie (can I call you Webbie? No? Not there yet, huh?)...Interwebz...
Today just sucked.
It should have been great, as the ex was awesome and took the kids earlier and earlier and then my mother in law took them even earlier so that I could do the eight million things that I needed to do between this morning and Sunday.
I had parent/teacher conferences. That was nice. Luckily I am that special parent who gets to hear only nice things about her kids, and it just so happens that each of my kids is "a joy to have in class" and "super-smart"...etc. I always feel bad for all the rest of the parents that my kids are hogging up all the compliments. I'm sure teachers wouldn't just say those things to anyone, right? Right.
Then, I let the ex use the car to cart the kids around, only he blew it up.
It probably wasn't his fault. Okay, it wasn't his fault at all. But still. It didn't blow up when I was driving...just sayin.
So I took him some water, while he sat on the side of the road with the kids for at least an hour. The water got it started, and now it sounds like Chitty-chitty-bang-bang, which, awesome, unless you let off the gas and then it DIIIIIIIES. So that's sorta' sucky if you need to stop ever. So now my momvan is on the highway all alooooone. And I'm at home all alooooone....
And while we waited on the grandparents to arrive to haul the kids, we had a couple hours just sitting there with the kids. Dalton was awesome with that situation, being the Kid Who Can't Stop Talking. He managed to make it sound like the only thing we ever discuss in our house is how awful his dad is and the proper terminology for...uh...body parts. It was quite possibly the most awkward conversation I have ever been a part of, so THANKS, DALTON! Gotta' love that kid...he's a walking example of the fact that if you say enough words, you're eventually going to say something that someone will regret. He didn't seem too bothered by it, though. I have a feeling I may be getting some phone calls from his dad later.
So that's my day, Interwebz. Enjoy
So, my dearest Webbie (can I call you Webbie? No? Not there yet, huh?)...Interwebz...
Today just sucked.
It should have been great, as the ex was awesome and took the kids earlier and earlier and then my mother in law took them even earlier so that I could do the eight million things that I needed to do between this morning and Sunday.
I had parent/teacher conferences. That was nice. Luckily I am that special parent who gets to hear only nice things about her kids, and it just so happens that each of my kids is "a joy to have in class" and "super-smart"...etc. I always feel bad for all the rest of the parents that my kids are hogging up all the compliments. I'm sure teachers wouldn't just say those things to anyone, right? Right.
Then, I let the ex use the car to cart the kids around, only he blew it up.
It probably wasn't his fault. Okay, it wasn't his fault at all. But still. It didn't blow up when I was driving...just sayin.
So I took him some water, while he sat on the side of the road with the kids for at least an hour. The water got it started, and now it sounds like Chitty-chitty-bang-bang, which, awesome, unless you let off the gas and then it DIIIIIIIES. So that's sorta' sucky if you need to stop ever. So now my momvan is on the highway all alooooone. And I'm at home all alooooone....
And while we waited on the grandparents to arrive to haul the kids, we had a couple hours just sitting there with the kids. Dalton was awesome with that situation, being the Kid Who Can't Stop Talking. He managed to make it sound like the only thing we ever discuss in our house is how awful his dad is and the proper terminology for...uh...body parts. It was quite possibly the most awkward conversation I have ever been a part of, so THANKS, DALTON! Gotta' love that kid...he's a walking example of the fact that if you say enough words, you're eventually going to say something that someone will regret. He didn't seem too bothered by it, though. I have a feeling I may be getting some phone calls from his dad later.
So that's my day, Interwebz. Enjoy
Nov 3, 2010
Ramen, Puzzles and Gangstas
Today was another Epic Trip to Walmart, and even though my sister kept five of my kids for me, it was still a little nuts.
It took forever, but I didn't forget anything (I hope), so that's a win.
I had the cart completely organized so I could fit everything, and even then things were falling out of it. So, I went to check out and people always look at me weird and I don't really know why. I think they are trying to decide if they can beat me to the spot in line and not have to wait on me.
I try not to stand in line with "manly men" most of the time, because they seem to feel obligated to either let me go first (which makes me feel bad), or look at me like I'm nuts and tell me how they're glad they don't have kids or something, which, rude! But there were two "manly men" in one line who only had a couple things and it was the shortest line, so I had to go stand behind them.
They were younger and I didn't think there was too much of a chance they would talk to me at all, which was exactly what I wanted. I waited for them to find the little divider stick so I could start trying to fit all the stuff on the belt, and noticed that they were buying two single packs of Ramen noodles..you know the kind that you just add water in the little bowl and heat it up? So I kind of laughed a little because seriously? Walmart has all kinds of easy food and that's about two bucks worth of dinner that just seemed kind of weird. And also, do guys usually go to Walmart for a quick dinner like that and then get the same thing? I don't know, it was weird, you'll just have to trust me.
In front of the Ramen, there was a box of something. I desperately wanted to know what these two men were buying to go along with their Ramen. I had to know. I tried to see the box from behind my cart, but the Ramen bowls were covering it...I had to do a little undercover recon, so I got a couple things out of my cart and tried to put them as close to the box as I could and get a good look at it.
It didn't work.
So I gave up on being covert and just stared at the box until the cashier lifted it up. It was a multi-pack of Thomas Kinkade puzzles. I kid you not. That's what the dudes were buying, the dudes I didn't want to be in line with in case they were too macho or something. Tiny bowls of Ramen and a giant box of puzzles. Yep.
What's really sad about this is that I was jealous. I wanna go to Walmart just to get two bites of food and puzzles with my...um...friend. Only if it were me, there would be chocolate somewhere and we'd just skip dinner and drink wine instead, and rather than puzzles, it would be Something Awesome And Way More Fun Than Puzzles. But still...I was coveting their shopping cart...or rather their lack of need of a cart, and their simple plan of Ramen and Puzzles. I came home to two hours of putting groceries away, a very late dinner, six people to bathe, eight loads of laundry and an hour per kid of homework...and not a manly man in sight, yo.
After the guys went to play puzzles and I spent forever trying to put all of my stuff back into my cart, I was just getting ready to put everything in my car when I was attacked. By a gang. Of teens. They were girls. Two of them came up behind me and scared me, then five more jumped out of the car and surrounded me. They took all the groceries out of my cart, threw paper at me, then jumped back in their car and sped off.
Only not really, because they actually put all my groceries into my van, gave me a card that said "You've just been hit with a random act of kindness", and then sped away. But I really thought they were going to hurt me at first. Or at least steal my pizza rolls, and then it would have been on. Isn't that nice? It made me want to go help someone else with their groceries...or possibly kidnap the youth group and make them work at my house. Either helping others or kidnapping, though, for sure...sorta like the Christmas spirit only it's November.
Moral of the story? There isn't one. Don't kidnap youth groups, DO let them put your groceries away. And if you have a special someone, don't take puzzles and Ramen for granted.
It took forever, but I didn't forget anything (I hope), so that's a win.
I had the cart completely organized so I could fit everything, and even then things were falling out of it. So, I went to check out and people always look at me weird and I don't really know why. I think they are trying to decide if they can beat me to the spot in line and not have to wait on me.
I try not to stand in line with "manly men" most of the time, because they seem to feel obligated to either let me go first (which makes me feel bad), or look at me like I'm nuts and tell me how they're glad they don't have kids or something, which, rude! But there were two "manly men" in one line who only had a couple things and it was the shortest line, so I had to go stand behind them.
They were younger and I didn't think there was too much of a chance they would talk to me at all, which was exactly what I wanted. I waited for them to find the little divider stick so I could start trying to fit all the stuff on the belt, and noticed that they were buying two single packs of Ramen noodles..you know the kind that you just add water in the little bowl and heat it up? So I kind of laughed a little because seriously? Walmart has all kinds of easy food and that's about two bucks worth of dinner that just seemed kind of weird. And also, do guys usually go to Walmart for a quick dinner like that and then get the same thing? I don't know, it was weird, you'll just have to trust me.
In front of the Ramen, there was a box of something. I desperately wanted to know what these two men were buying to go along with their Ramen. I had to know. I tried to see the box from behind my cart, but the Ramen bowls were covering it...I had to do a little undercover recon, so I got a couple things out of my cart and tried to put them as close to the box as I could and get a good look at it.
It didn't work.
So I gave up on being covert and just stared at the box until the cashier lifted it up. It was a multi-pack of Thomas Kinkade puzzles. I kid you not. That's what the dudes were buying, the dudes I didn't want to be in line with in case they were too macho or something. Tiny bowls of Ramen and a giant box of puzzles. Yep.
What's really sad about this is that I was jealous. I wanna go to Walmart just to get two bites of food and puzzles with my...um...friend. Only if it were me, there would be chocolate somewhere and we'd just skip dinner and drink wine instead, and rather than puzzles, it would be Something Awesome And Way More Fun Than Puzzles. But still...I was coveting their shopping cart...or rather their lack of need of a cart, and their simple plan of Ramen and Puzzles. I came home to two hours of putting groceries away, a very late dinner, six people to bathe, eight loads of laundry and an hour per kid of homework...and not a manly man in sight, yo.
After the guys went to play puzzles and I spent forever trying to put all of my stuff back into my cart, I was just getting ready to put everything in my car when I was attacked. By a gang. Of teens. They were girls. Two of them came up behind me and scared me, then five more jumped out of the car and surrounded me. They took all the groceries out of my cart, threw paper at me, then jumped back in their car and sped off.
Only not really, because they actually put all my groceries into my van, gave me a card that said "You've just been hit with a random act of kindness", and then sped away. But I really thought they were going to hurt me at first. Or at least steal my pizza rolls, and then it would have been on. Isn't that nice? It made me want to go help someone else with their groceries...or possibly kidnap the youth group and make them work at my house. Either helping others or kidnapping, though, for sure...sorta like the Christmas spirit only it's November.
Moral of the story? There isn't one. Don't kidnap youth groups, DO let them put your groceries away. And if you have a special someone, don't take puzzles and Ramen for granted.
Still Working on It!
The last couple of weeks have been a little difficult.
I was actually doing much better when the ex was being an ass, because I can laugh when I'm mad...being a smartass is funny when you really mean it. But now, he's decided to be nice, so that leaves me no target.
I tried making fun of myself, but that hurt my feelings and then I kept myself up all night bitching at me, which meant I didn't get enough sleep, which meant that I've really been hell to live with today. Completely counter-productive.
My kids say funny stuff, but the thing is, I can't remember it by the time I get them to bed. At that point, I've heard "I have to go potty" and "I need a drink" and "Mommy, why are you pulling your hair out" so many times that the funny stuff just got lost in the shuffle.
Shucks is talking all the time, but I'm rarely home to hear him. We did have a chicken wander into our yard, strutting around just out of his reach. Shucks said "GET IN MY BELLY, YOU DAMN CHICKEN!!!" about four million times, but either the chicken didn't feel like it or doesn't speak dog.
So I don't really have much to say, is my point.
Oh yeah, totally re-obsessed with the Goo Goo Dolls right now...Pandora plays this song every time I pull in to pick up my kids...I need to know how Pandora knows where I am and why it feels like Iris is the appropriate song at that particular point...not that Pandora is wrong, just...well, it creeps me out.
I was actually doing much better when the ex was being an ass, because I can laugh when I'm mad...being a smartass is funny when you really mean it. But now, he's decided to be nice, so that leaves me no target.
I tried making fun of myself, but that hurt my feelings and then I kept myself up all night bitching at me, which meant I didn't get enough sleep, which meant that I've really been hell to live with today. Completely counter-productive.
My kids say funny stuff, but the thing is, I can't remember it by the time I get them to bed. At that point, I've heard "I have to go potty" and "I need a drink" and "Mommy, why are you pulling your hair out" so many times that the funny stuff just got lost in the shuffle.
Shucks is talking all the time, but I'm rarely home to hear him. We did have a chicken wander into our yard, strutting around just out of his reach. Shucks said "GET IN MY BELLY, YOU DAMN CHICKEN!!!" about four million times, but either the chicken didn't feel like it or doesn't speak dog.
So I don't really have much to say, is my point.
Oh yeah, totally re-obsessed with the Goo Goo Dolls right now...Pandora plays this song every time I pull in to pick up my kids...I need to know how Pandora knows where I am and why it feels like Iris is the appropriate song at that particular point...not that Pandora is wrong, just...well, it creeps me out.
Nov 1, 2010
Feeeeeeeeeeeelings.....
My inner girlie girl found me today. That happens when I sit still, she catches up to me. I was at church, and she gets me there a lot...that's one full hour she knows I'm not going anywhere.
I was trying very hard to ignore her and it was taking all of my focus, but my very nice baby brother (who probably saw that the girl was bothering me) offered to take Donovan, who was being a giant pain in the bootay, and it distracted me just enough that she caught me.
Yep, you guessed it...she made me cry. And it wasn't the nice pretty tearing up kind of crying, either, like the movie stars do. It was the sobbing, gasping, messy kind of crying.
So, I did the Right Thing and ran out of the church to find a less conspicuous place to banish the girl. On the way, I tried not to look at anyone and I knocked over some guy...since I wasn't looking, I'm not sure who it was. I hope he and the baby he was carrying were ok, but I never figured out who it was.
He's lucky though, because all I could see of him was a crisp white dress shirt, and it was a tad tempting to use it as a tear sopper, but since I was refusing to look at anyone and therefore didn't know if he was a serial killer or not, I didn't do it.
I was trying really hard not to lose it on the way down the hall, but I didn't quite make it, and did that omg-I-SUCK-at-trying-not-to-cry snort, and inhaled my gum. This, my friends, is why you're not allowed to chew gum at church. Something was telling me to spit it out, but Donovan was being so bad that I forgot. So that's what I get. Now, if I breathe too deep, I feel bubbles in my lungs. I'm sure that's nothing to worry about...totally fine, lung bubbles. They're awesome.
I went to the bathroom and tried to chill a little, and noticed that my face was the same color as the bright red sweatshirt I had on, which, at this point, can you tell that I wasn't at all ready to go to church today? Well, I wasn't, which means I wasn't wearing makeup either, and that's a bonus if your emotions decide to explode on you with no warning.
And now people are asking me what's wrong, and I have the best story of all for them: Uh...I don't really know. I just lost it a little. Ok, a lot. But I'm not sure why. Because I try to deny the fact that sometimes feelings don't just go away...I don't know.
Moral of the story, folks:
1. Don't chew gum in church
2. Remember to get dressed for church
3. Lung bubbles are full of the Awesome
4. Never wear makeup
5. Emotions are assholes, yo
I was trying very hard to ignore her and it was taking all of my focus, but my very nice baby brother (who probably saw that the girl was bothering me) offered to take Donovan, who was being a giant pain in the bootay, and it distracted me just enough that she caught me.
Yep, you guessed it...she made me cry. And it wasn't the nice pretty tearing up kind of crying, either, like the movie stars do. It was the sobbing, gasping, messy kind of crying.
So, I did the Right Thing and ran out of the church to find a less conspicuous place to banish the girl. On the way, I tried not to look at anyone and I knocked over some guy...since I wasn't looking, I'm not sure who it was. I hope he and the baby he was carrying were ok, but I never figured out who it was.
He's lucky though, because all I could see of him was a crisp white dress shirt, and it was a tad tempting to use it as a tear sopper, but since I was refusing to look at anyone and therefore didn't know if he was a serial killer or not, I didn't do it.
I was trying really hard not to lose it on the way down the hall, but I didn't quite make it, and did that omg-I-SUCK-at-trying-not-to-cry snort, and inhaled my gum. This, my friends, is why you're not allowed to chew gum at church. Something was telling me to spit it out, but Donovan was being so bad that I forgot. So that's what I get. Now, if I breathe too deep, I feel bubbles in my lungs. I'm sure that's nothing to worry about...totally fine, lung bubbles. They're awesome.
I went to the bathroom and tried to chill a little, and noticed that my face was the same color as the bright red sweatshirt I had on, which, at this point, can you tell that I wasn't at all ready to go to church today? Well, I wasn't, which means I wasn't wearing makeup either, and that's a bonus if your emotions decide to explode on you with no warning.
And now people are asking me what's wrong, and I have the best story of all for them: Uh...I don't really know. I just lost it a little. Ok, a lot. But I'm not sure why. Because I try to deny the fact that sometimes feelings don't just go away...I don't know.
Moral of the story, folks:
1. Don't chew gum in church
2. Remember to get dressed for church
3. Lung bubbles are full of the Awesome
4. Never wear makeup
5. Emotions are assholes, yo
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