New Job

I have so many things to complain about today, but none of them are Interwebz friendly, so BOO THAT.
Instead, you get the job post, even though I haven't been paid, and this is the proof of my love for you.


I got a job...it's the perfect kind of job, because it's writing and it's contract, so I am basically employed for about five hours and then I'm done. This is great because I hate being bossed, so after a few hours, I can just quit and it's no big deal at all.

Ok, so I also used the term "writing" a little loosely, because it's re-writing a script for a sales company...I'm really trying to do a good job here, so I hope I can get some feedback here. Let me know what you think I should change.

Hello,

Wait, don't hang up on me! AUGH! Ass.

(Call back)

Hello,

This is (unpronouncable name) from Our Company.

...

No, sir, I didn't call you an ass. There must have been a problem with the phone.



We are holding a flea class in your town to help people with their credit.



...

Free? Sir, I think I said exactly what you think I said. Who would hold a flea class? So I must have said free. Moving right along...we asked over five people and found that 95% of the population has inaccurate information on their credit report, and we can show you how to get that removed.

...

Well, sir, 95% is a lot, so I'm pretty sure that you fit in there, as well. Are you Bill Gates? I thought not, so what I'm trying to say is that you and your family are doomed if you don't let me finish a sentence.


The class is (date), or if you would like us to help you, we can set up an appointment and get started right away.


Which of these would work better for you?
1. If they say the class, take down their information. The class isn't actually real, so if we can get their address, we can stalk them at home until they pay us to go away.



2. If they say they want to get started with our program


• Let me tell you a few things you can change on your credit report with our program:


o We will dispute any inaccurate information on your credit report. No, you cannot write these emails yourself. It's against the law. You must have a trained professional or the IRS will send snipers to your house.
o We work on building the credit you already have. We do this by saying "Keep paying your bills."
o And we work on building new credit, enabling you to get better interest rates, or even purchase a home. We do this by also saying "Keep paying your bills."


• Similar companies just want your money, but not us!


o It is only $100 to get started, and we add an extra zero to the end of that and call our original bid a typo when you're writing your check.
o From there we will work on a payment plan depending on what you can budget and afford. Unless you can't afford us.
o (If, and ONLY if, they ask about specific costs, tell them that the best way we have found to help our customers is by not charging huge upfront fees. We charge $100 to get started, and the usual fee after that is $100 per month. If they continue to ask questions, warn them again about the snipers and tell them you have the IRS on speed dial.)


Thank you for your time. Again, my name is ... and feel free to give us a call at ####### with any questions. (Remember to never give them the entire number...we aren't paying anyone to answer the phones right now.)

My Hair is Still Stupid

Tomorrow is Party Day, and yes, I'll admit it, there is a bus involved. A bus full of awesomeness and fun. There will be friends and music and silliness and tequila, which is my favorite kind of fun.

My kids lucked out when their aunt married a guy who is willing to babysit them, along with staying home with his own four while I steal my sister to go party. The kids get to ride in the bus to my sister's house, so they think they are in for Big Partying, too. They only want to be sure they will be served snacks and get to play with the radio. It's So On.

One serious problem with this is that my hair still looks insane. I mean, seriously...I look like I should be...I don't know...sitting on the sidewalk selling crayon drawings or something. And I have school all day tomorrow, which leaves me no time to find anyone to fix the cut. So I'm hoping I don't get kicked off the Bus of Awesomeness or dropped off at a psych unit or beat up by the cool kids or whatever. Or maybe I'll do the unthinkable and skip class to get it fixed...I just don't know.

I'm very glad I don't care about looks, because for the most part, I walk around all day forgetting how stupid my hair is. But every once in awhile, I pass a mirror and I'm all "Oh yeah, that's some seriously bad hair. That sucks."

Or maybe I'll just slick it all sideways and go emo with some pajama pants and a black coat, because I'm totally not too old for that.

Or maybe I'll wear the combination of things the kids have made for me over the years, and people will just assume I let them cut my hair as well as make my clothes and jewelry.

Or maybe the Bus of Awesomeness is a time machine that will take us back to the 80's when I'll be the cool one and all the other people will have stupid hair.

But this is my last post about hair. I promise.

Where Did Y'all Put Greg?

Yesterday I had an hour to kill, and I've been meaning to get my hair cut, so I thought I would just knock that out real quick.

I go to one of those cheapy places because I don't really care and also because there is a guy named Greg who works there and I can say "I don't care, make it cute and easy" and he does. Only Greg was gone. This should have been my warning, but I had already unloaded the kids, so I was committed.

I also should have known better when the lady before me left with the worst haircut in the world, but I was too busy thinking "Who would get their hair done like that? She's an idiot!"

Then, the hair lady was obviously mad that I brought six kids in, even after I told her we were only there for one cut. They bugged her through the whole thing, and I should have left then, but I didn't realize she was out for revenge.

I wear glasses, and without them, I am blind. The problem with this and haircuts is that when they take your glasses to cut your hair, you can't see what they're doing to you.

I said "I want you to leave the length and add some layers, that's it." She said "OK". She lied.

She did leave the length, but only in the back, so I have a mullet. On the left side, I have a normal short haircut with a few cute layers. On the right side, I have bangs that are longer than the rest of my hair, and right behind those is a giant clump of frizz, and right behind that is a bald spot.

I look like a guy from the 80's who cuts his own hair with a chainsaw. I tried wearing a hat, but that just makes the mullet stand out even more. I asked her to put some stuff in it just so the cut wouldn't show until I could get home and look at it, so she did, and then she ratted it up and slicked the front part straight back over the tangles. So I left looking like one of The Outsiders with a really tall head.

It's bad, yo. I'm going to have to fix it, but I'm not going to have any hair left, especially after they even out that bald spot.

Moral: Don't take my kids with me anymore, leave the glasses on, and FIND GREG.

Ninja Truck Under Constant Threat From Pinky and the Brain

Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm gonna' celebrate by going to see my favorite doctor and see why my tonsils are strangling me.

He likes me because I always shock him with my smoking and my awesome diet plan, which consists of a coffee and a banana for breakfast, coffee and cigarettes for lunch, and whatever I can make out of popcorn and leftover Christmas candy for dinner because I hate getting groceries.

I may also celebrate by taking Ninja Truck on a little date to the mechanic. On my way to school today, I stopped to give him (I think Ninja Truck is a boy...) some oil because he just squanders the stuff, and I noticed that the air filter was askew, which doesn't mean awesome, even though askew is a pretty awesome word. So I tried to fix it and the whole thing just came out. I didn't pull it out, it was just not hooked to anything. And this truck has a GIANT air filter, so it's just sitting there, perched on some wires and engine-y things, not hooked up to anything.

I tried to put it back on, but I would like to say that you can all just be very proud that I even know what it was in the first place. I looked for a picture in the owner's manual, because I thought that if I could figure out which way it was supposed to go, then I could hook it to the right stuff. But the picture didn't show enough, so I had to call Mason.

Mason is brother number two, which means he's a dookie. Only not a total dookie, because he met me at the gas station and helped me put it back together. We had to take the case apart to put it back, so either the truck came with the air filter not hooked to anything (which can cause serious engine damage and also alter the course of the Earth), OR someone snuck into my driveway, got out their handy flat-head screwdriver and unhooked the whole thing, even though it's kind of a pain to reach the screwdriver in there.

Who would do that? I narrowed it down to three guesses...
1. Donovan, who is always doing things to be actively destructive.
2. Someone (Pinky and the Brain?) plotting total world domination.
3. Nazi Truck Lady

If you have any knowledge of this crime, please call the hotline at
1-800-SAVETHETRUCKS.

Got a job

I got a job. And I wrote an entire post making fun of it. Then I realized that I shouldn't make fun of a job until after they pay me, so I can't post it.

The good news is that the job only lasts a few hours, so once it's done, I'll come straight home and post it. And it's from home, anyway, nay, on my computer, even. So it won't be a long drive and you can all laugh at my new job.

On a different note, I think we are over the flu, but I am considering taking one more day off school, because I feel worse now than I did when I was sick. Things would have been fine if my kids got the flu like normal people, instead of turning into HULKSMASHTHEWHOLEHOUSE while I wanted to just lay in bed and try not to freeze to death.

Otherwise, tomorrow is Monday, so really, things aren't going to start getting better till about 5:00 on Friday, when I plan to be doing tequila shots and karaoke as long as the kids will agree to sit in the car and tell everyone that mommy just went in for the bathroom. If not, then maybe their dad will take them and I will stay home watch the house stay clean, which unlike karaoke, requires no tequila to be fun.

Letter to Walmart

Once upon a time, in the land of Walmart #***, in the Village of Pharmacy, there lived a young man named Chad. Chad worked without cease, making sure the people of Pharmacy were efficient and smart and always smiling.

Chad was magic, and he sold concoctions to aid the sick people from all over Walmart, and even other kingdoms.

The visitors to Pharmacy would be greeted with smiles and they would purchase their medicine from Chad and go home after only a few moments to begin getting well.

One day, the evil ruler of Walmart made Chad go work in the Village of Electronics or maybe he was a manager or something, but whatever it was, it meant that he no longer helped Pharmacy.

Pharmacy became a dark and devastating place, where the villagers were rude and hateful to the poor sick people, and would take a long time to get their medicine. Sometimes (many more than one time), it took the people an entire day to get their medicine, because the Pharmacy people would not even bother to find solutions to problems and would tell the sick to come back again and again, until the sick people finally started getting their medicine from the Land of CVS, where smiles abound and they aren’t made to sit there for hours at a time with strep or the flu.

The people wrote a request to the king to please bring Chad back to Pharmacy, or at least give him a raise for whatever it is he does now, because he is the rightful King of Walmart, and his absence has proven that the previous success of Pharmacy was due only to him.

The king ignored the request, because Chad was probably happier in his new job, but perhaps the King of Walmart would consider the following:

If the people have to sign three papers, have them sign them all at once instead of waiting between each one.

If the people have a problem with their insurance, try calling them instead of making the poor sick people drive back every hour for five hours.

Never yell at sick people, it is not their fault they’re sick, and they probably like being there even less than the employees do. As a matter of fact, the entire Village of Pharmacy needs a class in customer service.

If the employee leaves to get a spoon for a sick child’s medicine, it should take less than twenty minutes. If the pharmacist is busy flirting with the techs, perhaps he could make sure his job is done first.

The people were heard by the Kingdom of Walmart’s email service, and lived happily ever after.

The End

More Epic Plumbing

I was too sick this morning to take the kids to the free working potty school, so we all stayed in and I woke up late to … well, to the potty still broken.

So I made another snake out of another hanger and made up my mind that I was not calling a plumber no matter what happened. And it worked! I fixed it all by myself with the hanger-snake, and I was so proud of myself that, after I got done with a busy morning of doing nothing but Having the Flu, I decided to tackle the washing machine.

The problem was that the water was just trickling into the washer so slowly that it took about three hours to run a load. My landlord informed me that we have hard water, and sometimes it clogs the screens. He said he just takes his out, so I may want to try that. After that, and after I asked a few intelligent questions, he also informed me that "screens" are something located in the hose that brings the water to the washer, which blew my mind because I thought the water was already in the washer and it just dispensed as needed. Either that or maybe the water fairies that live in that tank on top of the toilet. So guess what, y'all, the water fairies are only for toilets, apparently, and the washer is an entirely different process.

So I unhooked the hose, and I found the screen. There are actually two of them, on in the hose, and one in the washer. Neither of them was clogged at all. I took out both of them and made sure, and then I put the one back into the hose because it had rubber all around it, and when it comes to plumbing, you don't mess with the rubber stuff, because that's usually what's keeping the water where it belongs. I left the other one out in case of the hard water issue later. Then I put the hose back and turned the water.

Here is a picture of what I was dealing with and what the end result should be:

The water should flow into the washer just like the arrows show. But instead:

I texted Tracy, but I think I said something like "When you hook up a washer, do you have to out some goo in the hose to recent leaking or do you just screw it on right and it's supposed to work?" And she asked me to say it in English, but by the time I told her to change "out" to "put", and "recent" to "prevent", I was calling my mom to see if she knew the answer. Notice that not any time in this situation did I call someone who would actually know the answer. I need therapy.

My dad told my mom something about the rubber thing, but I was good on that, because I put that back on because you don't mess with the rubber stuff. Only then I remembered that I put it on backwards, so I took it all apart again, and just so you're keeping this in context, it's about three hours later and I still haven't even discovered the original problem the washer was having. I put it back the right way, put the hose back on, and it still leaked. I noticed it was on crooked, so I put it on very straight. Only every time I got it about halfway on, it would go crooked again.

Finally, I decided to just keep tightening it until the water stopped spraying everywhere. It worked. It's still crooked and a tad precarious and frankly, I left the washer about five feet from the wall where it blocks the dryer door because I was afraid of hose-movage if I put it back.

Then it was time to find out what was really wrong with the washer, so I turned it on to see exactly where the water fairies hoses brought the water. And it worked fantastically. I don't know what I did to fix it, but I'm good, yo.

Then I smelled something burning, only it wasn't the washer, it was the dinner. And that's why I don't believe in divorce, because one person should be breaking the washer while the other one burns dinner so they can be mad at each other instead of me just saying to myself "Why did you break the washer?" "I don't know, why did you burn dinner?" "You should have called the guy" "Well at least I can make Tuna Helper without burning it." "Shut up!" "You shut up." "Your mom." "Your face."

After it was all over, I told Emma, "I fixed the washer, I fixed the toilet, I faxed the papers, I got a job, I Had the Flu, I fed the kids, I cleaned the kitchen…" And Emma said "…but you still have to get me jammies." And so went the rest of the day.

Our Weekly Date with the Plumber

I live in an old house, and apparently, plumbing didn't come standard back in the '50's. It took one cold snap to put us without water for a couple days.

My washer hasn't worked ever since (which is killer in with so many kiddos in the house), and I'm pretty sure there is a missing or cracked pipe involved.

Today was another cold day. We were stuck in the house because of icy roads.

So the toilet quit working.

Why would the toilet work when four out of seven of us have the flu, and we can't leave the house?

I plunged it lots of times and every time I thought I had it working...well, I was wrong.

I am quite the handyman sometimes, but since I used to be married - only I was the woman in the relationship (sort of), I didn't get to keep the tools in the divorce. I only got to keep my drill, but he lost the battery when I was moving out. Long story short, sometimes we make our own tools around this house.

So I made a snake out of wire hangers. Don't tell anyone this, because I'm sure there is something fundamentally wrong with sticking wire hangers in the toilet, but what was I to do?

The problem with hangers is that they're a little too bendy. They just fold up as soon as they hit a bend in the pipes. And then, when you try to get them out, they get stuck. So you either have a toilet with a seriously long metal wire poking out of it, or you pull as hard as you can and land on your bootay with toilet water splashing everywhere when it finally comes out.

This may have happened once, or possibly three times. However many times it was, it worked for five minutes, so I put all the kids in diapers and told them to try to hold it until school tomorrow. This is why I am ok with public schools...free plumbing.

THIS is why you don't pretend to be sick

This morning was spent getting ready for the "prove my point" doctor's visit so that Warrick wouldn't cry wolf anymore when it's time for school.

Our appointment was at 9:45. I had to begin getting ready for this at 7. I showed up at the office ten minutes early, because as the person bringing the patient, that is my duty. My job: Show up ten minutes early. Doctor's job: Every damn other thing that goes on at a doctor's office. Simple, right?

We weren't seeing our usual doc because he doesn't see sickies in the morning. Instead, we got this tiny little woman with blond hair who was about eleven years old. Her name was Dr. Snail-Turtle-Slug. I sat with four children in the general waiting room, where I am sure we picked up every illness known to man.

We were called back to a room and saw a nurse. She said that the doctor would be just a minute. I assumed she was talking about how long until we saw the doctor, not that the doctor was literally the size of a minute. We did see the doctor ... at 10:45.

Now tell me....if you can't see a patient at 9:45, why in the hell would you schedule them in at 9:45? How hard is it? You see the patient, you leave the room before it's time to see the next one. No, seriously, that's it. I realize that it doesn't work this way, but why not? I never see them for longer than five minutes, and they charge at least $60 for that. Also, if I'm ten minutes late, they refuse to see me. So.....an hour? In a tiny little room with four children? For a fake illness? I was very angry.

So the doctor showed up, and she was just a little kid and I couldn't yell at her at all. Warrick told her all his lies about how his stomach feels weird and his throat hurts a little and he may have thrown up but he's not sure. I thought of big words to tell her that I didn't really believe him without his knowing what I was saying. She said she would run a strep test and a flu test just to be safe.

So we waited.

A little after 11, she opened the door and said, "Good news! He doesn't have strep! I'm so glad you waited!" I'm all, what? Why are we glad about waiting? Is there a hidden camera somewhere, cuz I'm fixin' to be that embarrassing person who gets super-pissed when everyone else is laughing.

"He has the FLU!!!" She was rejoicing. I think because, not only did she torture us with waiting, we would go home and be further tortured with flu-ness.

"If any of the other kids have a stuffy nose, cough, or fever...any symptoms at all...they need to be tested."

I told her that Donovan (who was sitting right there coughing up a lung) had that, and she said..."Ok, well, if he gets worse, get him tested...Buh-bye!!!!"

So, Warrick wasn't fake-sick, which meant I had to eat crow, which sucked because by the time I got home I also felt flu-ish, and crow is the opposite of comfort food. And since she wouldn't look at Donovan, we had to spend the afternoon negotiating Tamiflu for the rest of the family.

Now, we are medicated. We are hoping for a snow day tomorrow so our not-going-to-school won't get us in trouble. And guess what? Kids with the flu? Also don't sleep.

UFO's and Laura Ingalls Wilder

Once upon a time, I decided to get all organized, because our lack of on-timeness and homework-doneness and matching-clothingness was clearly due to my inability Do Enough Things.

I thought "Why can't we be on time? All we have to do is get All The Things done the night before, then just throw on clothes and leave! How hard can that be?"

So I drove to the kids' school planning how we would come home and get all the homework done first. Then, the kids could do their chores while I cooked dinner. And after that, we would read books on the couch while each child took their turn getting a bath. Then I would tuck them all into bed and they would sleep, and I would go to bed early and sleep, and we would wake up early and The Things would be done....and it would be blissful and timely and we would live happily ever after.

I got to school and picked up five normal kids, and one child who had convinced the school staff that he was dying. They had him laying on a cot in the "Health Room" (which, by the way, is a weird name for the room where they stash the sickies...I think it should be the "Puke Closet" or the "Fever Cabin", but they didn't ask me.) I asked if he had a fever. They said no. I rolled my eyes, because I knew he was faking. They judged me for not being sympathetic. He crept out moaning and limping and they gave me The Look that said "See? He's Super Sick". As soon as we got to the car, he drop kicked my six year old and beat the nine year old to a pulp for the front seat, all without a trace of that limp.

I made him a doctor's appointment, which means waking up even earlier tomorrow to get everyone there before school. But that was ok, because of my Awesome Plan of Timeliness and Function. (PS: He doesn't want to go to the doctor....apparently, he's not quite that sick.)

I got to the daycare to pick up Donovan. He had marker on his face. He looked like a geisha. Also ok, because of bathtime in the Awesome Plan of Timeliness and Function.

I dropped off my niece. It took twenty minutes, mostly because her leg got stuck in her backpack, and then Emma got all tangled in the seat belt and their hair was tangled together, but my niece finally somersaulted out, only getting a little of Emma's hair in the process. And what's twenty minutes to the Awesome Plan of Timeliness and Function? Nothing at all! HA!

I so got this.

So we come home, and everyone starts on their homework. Its 5:00, we're right on schedule. I start a fire in the wood stove because it was getting really cold. I make Easy Food for dinner. We sit down to eat....it's 9:00.

WHAT HAPPENED?

I honestly don't know. But the same thing happened the other day when I was meeting Tracy for coffee and I got in my truck at 2:30, then by the time I turned the key, it was 3:00. I'm either a heavy drinker or there is some alien abduction going on. Or maybe something to do with the kids...

So, Awesome Plan of Timeliness and Function, where did you go? It's an hour past the kids' bedtime and there is no homework done, no chores done, no baths taken or books read. Basically, it took us four hours to be warm and obtain nourishment. Like Little House on the Prairie, only not really because it's 2011 and we pretty much ate chips for dinner.

And this is why I can't fix the problem....Aliens.

Epic Slumber Party

Because my dad was sick last night, and my sister's kids had been sick, we had our Sunday dinner at my house yesterday. I was getting everything ready, and since we didn't have school today, I thought it would be a good idea to see if some of my nieces and nephews could stay the night and hang out with my kids.

I ended up with James and Nicole who are four, and Mae and Michelle who are three. It only took three and a half hours to get them to bed, with my brother's help.

The rest of the fun started when everyone was finally settling down, and Warrick informed me that I had put my nephew, who is very allergic to dogs, on the mattress that Shucks had been laying on. So after I cleaned him up, gave him some Benadryl and pulled a mattress off the top bunk for him, I put him back to bed.

Then I checked on him every thirty seconds until two in the morning.

Emma and Michelle got in trouble and I made them sit in the kitchen, hoping the rest of the girls would fall asleep. Michelle gave me voodoo looks and told me that she had to go potty at her house, and her mommy was coming to get her because Aunt Mandy was not her friend anymore.

Then I saw Nicole standing at the bedroom door, so I called her in.

Me: Nicole, why are you out of bed?
Nicole: Because I had to do something.
Me: What did you have to do?
Nicole: Turn on the light.
Me: Why were you doing that?
Nicole: :::thinks for a second::: I think I said the wrong thing. I meant I had to turn off the light.

When they were all asleep, and I felt pretty sure that James would survive without me shining lights in his eyes every few minutes, Mason went home and I went to bed around two.

At about 2:30, Madilynn came in and told me Michelle was crying. I told her Michelle had stopped crying and to go to bed. But she got in my bed, and I was too tired to care. A few minutes later, Michelle was standing outside my door yelling that she needed to go potty. I called her in there and told her to go, but she woke up the dog. He came around the side of the bed to see what was going on and scared her to death. I finally convinced her that he wasn't going to attack her on the potty, and put him outside.

I got back in bed, but when she came out of the bathroom...
Michelle: Aunt Mandy? Aunt Mandy?
Me: What, honey?
Michelle: My mommy told me I can't go to bed. My grandma is coming over here to live at your house, and I need to wait for her. And my grandpa is coming to live here. And my mommy is coming to pick me up. And my grandma is my friend, and my grandpa is my friend, and Mima is my friend, and Grandawg is my friend, and James is my friend, and Emma is my friend, and Mae is my friend, and Mommy is my friend, and Daddy is my friend, and Aunt Ashley is my friend, and Shucks is my friend....and I don't like dogs I like cats. And you shouldn't have a dog and you shouldn't put him outside because I have a dog that's pink and he'll come eat your dog and I don't like dogs. But I like cats but I don't have a cat but do you have a cat? And my grandma is coming to live at your house....
Me: Wait...Michelle...it's three in the morning. It's time to sleep.
Michelle: My mommy is coming to pick me up.
Me: No, she's sleeping.
Michelle: It's not her bedtime. My grandma....
Me: HEY! How bout you come lay up here with Madilynn!
Michelle: Ok, but my grandma....
Me: Only you can't talk, ok?
Michelle: Ok

So we all go back to sleep, until Mae comes in to go potty, too.

Mae: Aunt Mandy?
Me: Yeah?
Mae: Can we have a tea party?
Me: :::checks the clock::: Honey? It's three thirty. It's still time to sleep.
Mae: Can I sleep with you?
Me: Sure. :::spends fifteen minutes arranging kids so Mae can fit up there, too:::

Then, in comes Nicole.

Nicole: Aunt Mandy? The other kids are gone.
Me: Yup. They're all up here.
Nicole: I'm scared by myself.
Me: Ok, hop up.
Nicole: :::steps on all three of the other girls and wakes them up:::
Other girls: :::kick anything that moves:::

:::huge fight:::

Me: :::grabs a corner of the bed and falls asleep:::

Thirty minutes later, I gave up and made coffee.

Big Words and Teachers

If I hear the word "amortization" one more time this week, my brain will explode.

I hate that word. It just sounds mean and mathly and sucky, doesn't it?

Also, "depreciation" and "depletion" and "intangible assets". I don't like those, either.

I want to do real work with tangible assets. As a writer, I can appreciate the value of some intangible assets, like copyrights. But seriously? The only thing I like about accounting is how things just work and there isn't any guessing and things fall into place and there is no chaos. But once you throw in "intangibles"....isn't that chaos? I know it is in real life.

And you'd think that I would be really good at chaos, but I have a letter from Warrick's teacher that claims otherwise. She wants to know "what can we do to help Warrick get to school on time?"

I made her a list:

1. Come over in the evening and find clothes and shoes for everyone.
2. Then put them to bed at a decent hour.
3. AFTER they've done six hours of homework, needed chores (skip making the bed, go look for firewood because it's cold in here), and whatever they have time for as far as eating, bathing and spending time with their family.
4. Come back in the morning and tell them to get out of bed.
5. Tell them again.
6. And again.
7. One more time, only really loud.
8. Smack them until they actually get out of bed.
9. Find their clothes and shoes because a ghost took them after you found them last night.
10. Find and sign the homework that their little brother scattered.
11. Physically carry the younger kids to the car one at a time, because I know you didn't find those shoes. Make sure you keep the gate shut or you'll have to chase the dog out of the neighbor's chicken coop.
12. Put seat belts on everyone.
13. Do it again about every half mile.
14. Make the line at the school go faster, because if you don't let the kids in until 8:30, and they are late at 9:00, it shouldn't take 45 minutes to get through the line. I'm no math teacher or anything, but that doesn't add up. (I can tell you all about amortization, though.)
15. If all else fails, you could talk the bus driver into not skipping our stop.

Thanks so much! :D

Ice Skating at My Place!

I live in an old house.

Today, I came home to my kitchen flooded because there was a small leak under the sink that had started while we were gone. I fixed it. Yeah, I'm the man. I totes fixed the sink, yo.

Except there was hardly any water pressure from the hot water side, which is also the side I fixed. Hmmm...

So I checked the hot water everywhere else. There was no hot water in the bathroom. But there was water somewhere, because I could hear it. Then I realized it was just the waterfall. Only we're not supposed to have a waterfall.

It was the line between the water heater and the bathroom, making a pool under the house, clearly not something that is supposed to happen.

Lucky me, my landlords live next door. Unlucky landlord's son, he got to swim under the house in twenty degree weather.

A few hours later, when it was very dark and very cold outside, he had it all fixed up. I was messing with the wood stove (making fire, yo!) and I heard the water come back on. Except I shouldn't have heard it, because nothing was running. So I went to see what was going on, and my kitchen was flooded again. The little leak I had fixed had turned into a giant, spewing, hot water geyser. Awesome.

I yelled out the door to tell him to turn the water back off, but he was already gone. I handed the phone to Huston and told him to call them back over, grabbed a towel and tried to stop the leak. It didn't stop, but I did get it to quit spraying all over the kitchen and just run downward like a normal leak.

Huston came in and said they weren't answering, and asked if I needed help. I was laughing because I couldn't let go and my clothes and hair and face were soaked, and I just didn't know what to do. Warrick decided to walk next door and find someone to turn off the water (there is no shut-off under the sink, by the way...I'm not that bad at plumbing.)

Just then, the water turned back off and I heard a knock at the door. I sloshed my way over to answer it, and there stood the landlord's son. He said "If you ever hear your name from under the house, and maybe a little banging on the floor, please come get me because it means I'm stuck under the house. I thought I was going to die." (He said it very nicely for someone who was stuck in one foot of crawlspace with probably six inches of standing water.)

OMG. I almost killed him, and I didn't hear him because I was too busy holding a towel around a pipe trying to save my kitchen floor from becoming a giant Slip 'n Slide for the kids! Can a renter get any more sucky than that?

So he got a wrench and did something with my repair job, turned the water back on and proved that he is a better plumber than I. And we made a deal that the kids and I would sit quietly and listen for distress signals next time he was under the house.

Job Interview Advice

1. Go with your gut on what to wear. Never go with mine, because it will tell you that ripped jeans and a giant sweater are awesome, and my gut lies.

2. If the person doing the interview is younger than you, it means that you are officially old. Don't let this get you down. Just remember how dumb you were at that age, and that should lend you enough confidence to get through it. Unless you are still dumb, and then it's best just to try not to talk a lot.

3. Do some research beforehand so you can use Big Words for the Weird Stuff You Know How to Do. I have a ton of experience in lots of things, but when I wrote them all out, they weren't too impressive. Here is a list of real-life skills, transformed into interview-speak:

• Getting out of bed = Scheduling maintenance and enforcement
• Making coffee = Percolation master
• Drinking coffee = Caffeine installer
• Blogging = Typation master, Forum diplomat, Wisdom expeller
• Changing diapers = Shit scooper (trust me, this'll get you any job)
• Getting dressed = Stylist

These are just a few, but you can take any skill and turn it into something professional sounding if you just put "ation" at the end of it (Put on shoesation, Limboation...etc), or if you add the word "specialist" (Texting specialist, sleep specialist...) These are sure-fire.

4. Back in the day, people learned how to meet people. For instance, how to shake hands and look someone in the eye. How to speak clearly and be positive. These things are a lost art, yo. If the person interviewing you is younger, you may scare them off with your fierce handshake and direct eye contact. Try patting them on the head instead. Or just stand awkwardly beside them for a few minutes until they get used to your presence, like you would a strange dog. Or merely ask for their cell number and text them from the next chair.

5. When the interview is over, a handshake depends on how the first one went. If you tried to shake their hand and they looked at you like you were asking for money, perhaps it's best not to try again. If the first handshake went as planned, by all means go for a second one. And try the eye contact thing again. It helps people remember you. Especially if you're super-scary. They'll be like "I don't know why, but that dude with the creepy eye-stare is haunting me...I'll just hire that one because he's the only one I can picture right now, and I already slipped him his first week's pay because of that weird begging thing he did with his hands when he walked in."

If these methods don't get you the job....well, I'm not really that shocked. I never said anything about good advice.

Being Single, sorta

I've decided I really enjoy being single. For a long time, I thought I didn't want to be alone. But recently, I started thinking seriously about what it would be like to be married again, and I realized that it will be a long time before I'm ready for that.

I really enjoy making my own plans and cooking whatever I want for dinner. And my bathroom looks like a drag queen stuck all his leftovers to the wall in a fit of rage, but I like it. I'm pretty sure a dude would make me change that.

I also think a husband might mind me spending all my time in the evening blogging and watching Glee and other random high school drama shows. And I'm not giving up Glee for anyone.

I don't want anyone else to make decisions. I am a control freak, and being alone this last year has not helped. Ninja Truck makes me so happy, and due to the fact that it's actually a pretty crappy truck, I can only assume that most of that happiness comes from deciding all by myself to buy that truck.

But I do miss some things. Like just now, I was all comfy on the couch but I wanted some coffee. I thought, maybe if I had a husband, he would have had to use the bathroom or something, and I could say "Hey, will you grab me some coffee on your way back?" And then he couldn't say no because he was standing already.

See, when you're part of a couple, the person standing is always the runner for both people. I have spent entire evenings really wanting to go to bed, but not wanting to be the first to stand up and have to run all the errands. It never failed, as soon as I got up, he would say "Babe, will you get me a glass of water before you go?" And when I brought it to him, he would also need me to get the remote that we had both been too lazy to grab off the top of the TV, and maybe a pillow, and put the clothes in the dryer and by the time I was done, it was an hour later and he would have snuck off to bed when I wasn't looking.

This afternoon, the dog got out and the fire needed to be tended at the same time. I looked around for someone to whom I could delegate one of those issues. There was me. And that was it. For the millionth time, I realized that, no matter how many awesome friends I have, and how much help I have had, I'm still the only adult here. It's all on me. And that's hard.

But then I was all "blogging and chick flicks, yo!" And I was happy again. I got my own coffee, lit a smoke, put on my ugly sweatpants and put my hair in frizzy pigtails and I'm chillin'.

There are definite advantages to being married, and if I can say that after all I've been through, you can surely believe it. But nothing beats being content. If getting my own coffee means I get to choose between bad karaoke and Greek marathons on Friday night, I'll take it.

Lie to Me

One thing that has been made clear to me is how little I trust myself.

When I was married, I remember a time my husband told me he went to Sonic. I was like "Oh, why did it take you four hours?" Because, clearly he was lying and who can argue with that logic? He said, "They messed up the order and I had to go back and it took forever and then my phone rang and it was some guy wanting to know about this...." And he talked for so long I forgot what we were talking about. Later, when I remembered that he was lying to me, I didn't really believe myself anymore because surely he said something in there that explained everything.

There was another time when I was with this other, completely different, not ever married to me guy, and I found this *ahem* video under his chair. He said "Huh. I've never seen that before." And I was all, "Huh. That's weird. Wonder how it got there." And it only took me about six months to realize that I shouldn't have believed him. I mean, luckiest dude in the world right there, and he doesn't even take advantage of it, right? haha Oh...I mean, yeah, I guess he did. Damn it! See what I mean?

I believe my kids over myself, too. My son has gotten out of going to school about twenty times this year because I think, what if he really is sick this time? And I send him to school anyway? That would be so sad! Poor little baby! And he stays home and I miss class and he plays video games and by about one in the afternoon, when he still doesn't have a fever, I realize what's going on.

I don't know why I don't believe myself when I know that I'm always right. I want to think it's because I believe the best about people, so when they tell me they aren't doing something screwed up, I want to be the one who is wrong. Honestly, though, I don't think that's the reason. It probably has something to do with my inability to pay attention to someone long enough to catch them lying. They're all "Yeah, well, I was..." And by "was", I'm already doing taxes in my head and planning my platform for my presidential campaign. And rather than admit to that, I'm all "cool, yo."

I am writing about this because I have no time or even really any inclination to change this about myself, so if you could all just spread the word that people shouldn't take advantage of this quirk, it would make things so much easier.

The Gate

When I was a kid, I had this amazing group of friends....y'all have heard about them before.

I hardly talk to any of them anymore, but it was worth it, yo.

There was this place called The Gate where we used to hang out. We called it The Gate because that's what it was. There was a road with nothing on it except for this field. And then a gate. It was the best bar around.

The parking lot was for one, made of gravel.
The bathroom was a cattle guard.
The music came from the stereo in the truck.
The chairs were a tailgate and the sides of the bed.
The beer ....*ahem*...soda was warm.

We laughed and sang and danced and then we went home.

The one night I remember best, there were three of us couples, only all of us had just broken up. We were trying to figure out if we should all just get back together because it sorta stunk not being part of a couple. So we did. If only relationships could be fixed so easily when we're older.

One night, we met on a dirt road (and I'm not sure if this was anywhere near The Gate) to shoot fireworks with my best friend's parents. Till my one cousin (you know, the one cousin...the one we all have???) shot someone in the pants with a roman candle and we all got in trouble.

There was another night when there were some major tornadoes. May 1999, to be exact. It was awesome. We were all "storm chasers" back then, so we loaded six of us up in my boyfriend's tiny little car and went out. We knew we were right near what they were calling an F4 (That stands for Really Frickin Big One), but we couldn't see it because there was this huge cloud covering the sky that was blocking our view. When the lightening lit up behind the cloud, we were all, "Uh....that's not a big cloud...." And we drove the other way.

Only by then, someone had to pee. I don't remember who this person was....at all. We were in the middle of nowhere and it was raining like crazy and we also still need to run from the Giant Tornado of Doom, so, without going into too much detail, it was decided that the person in question would lean against the back of the car and go potty while everyone else just stayed inside. Only this person's boyfriend thought it would be really funny to keep moving the car every few seconds so that she fell over and also almost got tornado-ized.

That's why she married someone else less than a year later. And that's a whole different story.
The End.

Dear Ninja Truck

Did you ever take a drink of something and then realize there was something in it, only its too late because you already swallowed it and then you aren't sure if you want to know what it was and you're grossed out for the rest of the day?

Yeah.


Dear Ninja Truck,


Thank you for starting every day and getting me to class, even though I should have changed your oil last week but still haven't gotten around to it.


I think you are the most beautiful truck in the world. I especially love your extra features that you just can't get "factory" on any vehicle, from your decade or the present one. Like the picture on the passenger door that only shows up in certain light so I can't take a photo, but looks something like this:

Also how the key doesn't go into the driver's door, which gives me lots of exercise when I forget and have to run around you. And the missing handle on the inside back door just shows me that you were ahead of your time in the child lock department.

And since someone already drew all over your interior with permanent marker, I don't have to holler at my kids for hardly anything at all.

The only thing I could ask of you is maybe that you don't drink so much gas? Please? Because dude, seriously. Don't drink and drive. But otherwise, you're awesome, except for that little noise in the belt area. Belts squeak sometimes, I know that...but...well, it's obnoxious. Also the brake thing. I just don't like that much attention, so if you could dial down the squeaks and squeals just a tad, that would be great.

Please don't ever change how you fold up your backseat when I have to stop quickly. I love that. When the kids act up in the car, I need only slam the brakes and WHAM! They can't make nearly enough noise when they're folded in half. Although I installed that seat myself, I think we can take equal credit for this...because I'm pretty sure you're the one who thought of it and I just made it happen.

I hope that we will be together forever, and I promise I will change your oil as soon as I can, and even flush your radiator and make the kids remove their junk from you. Because I wuvs you.

Love,
MannyRee

What really happened?

When I heard about all the black birds falling out of the sky in Arkansas, I had to do a little research to figure out what was going on.

I cannot stand eschatology conversations, and birds raining from the heavens on New Year's Eve sounded a little too close to that for me.

So I found this highly scientific chart:

Which seems to prove that the birds are truly angry, and that the little helmet wearing, egg stealing green pigs have got to go.

Chats with Shucks

Shucks: Dude. WTH?

Me: What?

Shucks: :::Super Death Bark:::

Me: Hey...it's the middle of the night. You're going to wake up the kids.

Shucks: Get in here.

Me: No, I'm chillin.

Shucks: :::Super Death Bark::::

Me: SHUTUP!

Shucks: Not unless you come in here right now.

Me: You come in here.

Shucks: I'm serious. There are aliens in the kitchen and if you don't get in here and help me, we're going to have a first-class invasion on our hands.

Me: Aliens?

Shucks: You're a mother. Don't you even care about your children? Their lives are at stake! Get in here now!

Me: :::sigh::: :::walks into the kitchen:::

Shucks: See?

Me: No.

Shucks: Look. Up on that table.

Me: This table? With a microwave and a coffee pot?

Shucks: Micro...what? That is an alien.

Me: Uh, no. That is a microwave.

Shucks: :::Super Death Bark:::

Me: STOP! It's a microwave, and you've never been bothered by it before. What is your problem?

Shucks: The eyes! The eyes! I can't look away! Run, save yourself....I'm a goner.

Me: Dude, snap out of it. It doesn't have eyes.

Shucks: Yes it does....don't you see? Those eyes.....so red.....We're all gonna DIIIIIIE!

Me: Those aren't eyes. Those are little lights because someone didn't clear the time left. :::hits the clear button:::

Shucks: Oh, ok. Sweet. :::runs into Dalton's room to bury a hamburger bun in the laundry basket::::

Yesterday, I forgot to hit "Publish"

Tomorrow is my night to host Bunco.


If you have never played Bunco, you are missing something. Basically, you put twelve women in a room with three tables. You feed them something. They walk around awkwardly carrying plates of food and drinks because either the table where they want to sit is full, or there is one empty opening but they are feeling obligated to sit by the person who is still alone. They eat some dinner. They talk for about an hour.


Finally, the person who actually has to pay for a sitter or who has already had twenty angry texts from her husband yells, "Can we play, please? I have to go home." Everyone rolls dice and switches chairs and yells and screams and rings a bell, then people win prizes. Then you eat dessert and go home.

It's lots of fun.

My mom watched the kids for me so I could go shopping, because the hostess is responsible for cooking dinner and stuff. I was wandering through the store and kept seeing this very tall man everywhere I went. Since I didn't have the kids and therefore had nothing to think about, I naturally made up a story about Tall Dude.

He's a fireman. And also some sort of lumberjack or something. Because he had this coat and it looked like a lumberjack coat. He lives in the woods and is a vegetarian, because everything in his cart was green. He saves children. I'm not sure from what, but he saves them all the time. He's like a super hero only not the fake kind. So I sorta had a crush on him by aisle three.

I had to go back a few aisles because I forgot something, and I saw him again. This was weird...did he forget something, too? He left his cart at the end of the aisle and followed right behind me.

I ignored him because I was pretty sure that if I looked at him, he would see I was in love with him and that would be embarrassing. So I pushed my cart allllllllll the way down to the other end. Only he was right behind me. Like, six inches away from me. And he didn't stop to grab any bread or anything, he just kept following me all close, whistling a tune. About halfway down, I started to get a little paranoid. Maybe he knew I had made up a story about him. Maybe he guessed that I had been crushing on him since the produce department.

But after halfway, he really should have found what he wanted or brought his cart with him. That's when I realized that he wasn't a super hero at all, and was in fact a serial killer, preying on women who were obviously mothers daring to run around Walmart late at night without their children. So I walked faster.

He followed faster, still whistling.

I still refused to look at him, and pushed my cart as fast as I could out of that aisle and to the checkout lanes.

He followed me.

O.M.G. I thought I was gonna die in Walmart. Not like I didn't know that was where I was going to die...I mean, if Walmart doesn't kill me, nothing will. But I just thought it would be from natural Walmart causes, not from being serially murdered by Tall Lumberjack Dude.

So I decided to face him and just see what happened. I turned around, and he stopped and stared at the coffee real hard. I said "Oh, right. Some hero you are, pretending like I'm not even here after everything we've been through. Jackass."

He grabbed a pound of coffee and left for his secret hideaway in the woods, and I left the store unmurdered.

The End.

New Year and Smartassery

Children are experts at backhanded compliments.

Emma loves to find reasons to come out of her room at bedtime, and most of the time, it's to tell me that I'm her best friend or how much she loves me and that way I can't get mad at her. Today during mass, I made her mad, so she leans over and says "You're the best mommy I've ever had....because you're the only mommy I've ever had; so you're also the worst."

Later, Dalton said something hilarious and I proceeded to write an entire blog post about it in my head, but I forgot it.

So anyway, happy new year, Interwebz. 2010 was my thirtieth year of being alive, and I loved being 30. The year itself was awful, but there is something cool about being 30.

One thing I learned last year was how in charge of our own destiny we are, even when life throws us a curve ball. I am done letting life happen to me, and this year is going to be all about becoming the woman I want to be.

Resolutions are boring, but since I can't remember what Dalton said, you get my list:
1. Quit smoking and don't kill anyone. Eventually, people. It just ain't happening this week. But it's on my list.

2. Join the new gym down the street and become HAWT. Not because I care about looks, but because I want to know I can.

3. After that, cook a ton of food all Paula Deen style and get back the back. Because "hot mamas" are scary, and nobody wants to eat stuff cooked by a skinny person.

4. Organize my house, beginning with a place to keep children where they are unable to touch anything.

5. Convince my kids that my cooking is truly superior to McDonald's.

6. .......

NEVERMIND...I remember what Dalton said!

The kids were being super loud in the car, and Dalton turned around and said, "You guys need to be quiet, you're being 'dickulous'." Oh, wow, I laughed so hard, because they were being ridiculous, but his way of putting it was just...better, for some reason.