I Can't Haz Internetz

I got up far too early this morning and had time to browse through some of my old favorite blogs, but I was disappointed to find that most of them had quit publishing - ALL of them due to depression. I am not going to trivialize the true issues that people who deal with depression face, but this is a long story so I have to basically skip to the part where I became super self-absorbed.

See, after seeing all of this from some of the funniest women I know (of), it reminded me that brilliant and hilarious people are often faced with very tough issues, and many of them suffer from some sort of mental illness. So...obviously I started to get all OHNOI'MDEPRESSEDNOWIKNOWIT! Not because I'm brilliant or hilarious, but because I also have a blog. (Logic.)

Fast forward a few hours, I'm watching a movie on Netflix with my sons, and THE INTERNETZ BROKE. I realized a few days ago how web-addicted I am, but I quickly justified it with the fact that I literally have no job if I don't have you, Internetz. The fact that I do half my reading, all of my TV watching and news consumption, and about 90% of my socializing online is a job hazard. Right? Right.....?

So when the ZOMGINTERNETZBROKE of 2012 happened, I may have tweaked out. Only a little. I spent hours on the phone with the ISP. Again, this could be its own blog post (or its own entire blog) but this is a long story already. At the end of all this time, the man said that my modem was broken...surprise! It broke exactly one week To The Hour past my warranty. Coincidence? Maybe. But the same thing happened with my router a few months ago so I think not.

I decided to just go to bed. But then I remembered the whole depression thing and I thought "OH NOES! If I just go to bed, that's the first step to me waking up to no Internetz tomorrow, then I won't want any Internetz because it's Sunday, so I'll wake up on Monday with no Internetz and I'll get fired for not working and lose all my friends and I won't know what's going on in the world and never watch TV again and make drastically long run-on sentences....it's BEGINNING!

So about an hour past the time the boys should've been in bed, I load them up in the car and run to Walmart for a modem. (What? I hate Walmart? Why yes I do - but who else would have one tonight?) They had cable modems. Waaayyyy back on the shelf, all dusty and lonely, I found a dial-up modem. But I am apparently the last person on Earth using DSL.

After all of that, I wanted to get myself a little surprise for my trouble, so I walked around literally searching for one tiny thing in the entire store that I wanted. I found a red trashcan. And shampoo. Three dollars total, and I hated Walmart even more for not having stuff I wanted to waste money on. But they had one lane open and 20 people standing in it, so I shouted, "Let's go boys! We'll shop with people who know how to manage a store!" And my sons weren't embarrassed at all.

We went to Target. No DSL there, either. I didn't even bother wasting money there, because I already know Target has All The Things I Want.


I was already a little mad at the ISP guy on the phone, because from where he was in India, he could see my modem, and from where I was at my desk, I could see it. (By see it, I mean it was a "recognized" device.) So at what point was it "broken"?

See, internet is just exactly like plumbing. You get Internetz (water) through the cable running into your house. Then some more cables (just like pipes) take the Internetz to the modem, which is like a valve. If the valve were clogged, you wouldn't be able to see through it. But I could see right through the modem. Anyway, the modem sends Internetz on to a router, which is basically the sprinkler system, and the router showers Internetz all over your house. They are then collected in the "sinks" - your various devices, such as laptops and whatnot.

Incidentally, that's why it took us awhile to get cloud-computing...one day it got real hot and a bunch of Internetz evaporated and made a cloud we can put cool stuff in.

Anyway, because I could see through the valve, I should've had Internetz running freely to my router. But I didn't. You know how your water dude can shut off your water at the meter? That's a valve. (I think - I'm sorta making this up in case you couldn't tell.) When I came home from Target, Internetz were ALL OVER my floor because the modem had magically started working and was leaking everywhere because I hadn't bothered to plug it back into the router.

So what happened, ISP? Were you so interested in using this phone call to sell me a new modem that you didn't think to wait to turn the valve back on until AFTER I had actually bought one? I want to know.

The moral of the story is that I would've battled my make-believe depression much better if it weren't for my ISP and Walmart. Thanks a lot, guys.

And please keep my blogger friends in your prayers - if they don't bring the funny back, it's going to be left to people like me, and I don't want to be responsible for breaking the Internetz.

Meatball Eggs and Other Nonsense

Today was Walmart day. :::Queue scary dramatic music::: I didn't even have the kids with me and it was still ridiculous.

There were about eleventy billion people in there, and they were an awful sort. They seem to want to claim the aisle. If their cart is parked in the aisle, they are the only one allowed access to that aisle until they choose to move on. I asked one woman to please let me by, and she scoffed and moved her cart a quarter of an inch. For the record, this quarter of an inch did NOT let my cart through. So I said "Thanks, lady, that was just awesome of you" and bumper carted her cart out of the way. Seriously? Why can't I just get some darn toothpaste in peace?

Then I overheard this conversation between a woman and her little boy, about seven years old:

Mom: No, I'm not buying those eggs. They're not vegetarian.
Boy: :::literally breaking into a screaming wail::: But I don't caaaaaaaaaaaare! I'm NOT A VEGETARIAN! I don't care if the eggs are vegetarian!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mom: I'm not buying them...they're not the vegetarian ones.
Boy: But who cares? Why can't we just get them anyway?
Mom: :::voice dripping with horror and disgust::: Because! Who wants to eat eggs that come from chickens that are fed MEATBALLS? That's just disgusting.
Boy: ME! I want to eat them!

I'm not into all the organic blah, blah, blah, but are people really  feeding their chickens meatballs? I mean, is this woman trying to tell me that the chickens which produce the eggs at my local Walmart eat better than my kids? And this is a problem why? Clearly I am out of some loop I probably don't want to be in anyway.

I ran into them later in the cookie aisle. This made me giggle, because I rarely let my kids eat packaged cookies. Not because of meatballs or anything, but because they'd rather have a piece of fruit or something, and find any cookies not homemade to be below their tastes. The mother was screaming, "I'm going to buy cookies ONE MORE TIME. But if you eat them like you did last week, you NEVER GET COOKIES AGAIN!" I'm like, Woman! If you're so concerned about giving your kid meatball eggs, then why not monitor the cookies a little bit?

I mean seriously...if the kid has free access to eat as many cookies as he wants, is it really going to kill him to get a meatball egg every once in awhile? The funny thing was, the kid was throwing a much larger tantrum over the eggs than over the cookies.

I honestly don't understand people in this town. Or maybe people anywhere, but definitely not people from here. Poor kid...all he wants is a meatball omelet and instead he gets processed cookie rationing and a screaming mother in Walmart.

Mission Impossible

At this point in my life, I hate grocery shopping to the point that I don't even care if we eat; I only shop so that I can have something to write about.  Also?  Still not quite worth it.

Yesterday was the Big Day (as in we didn't have anything for dinner, requiring a trip to the store as soon as school got out).

When we walked in, we got all the normal stares and pretty much ignored them because I was really busy trying to keep a vague list of things we needed in my head.  Until one guy, who stopped and hollered "CAN I TAKE ONE HOME?" 

This is actually a common question.  Being in a cranky mood because of the whole Being at the Store thing, I told him he could just pick the noisiest one.  He grabbed Warrick by the arm and said he wanted that one.  That's where it gets less common, because people aren't normally too comfortable grabbing kids who don't belong to them in Walmart.  This guy had made a point to be extremely drunk so that his level of comfort was somewhat different than, say, mine.

Just to reiterate:
People asking to keep a kid = common.  People actually trying to take one = uncommon.
Drinking before grocery shopping = WIN.  Drinking and grabbing my kids = FAIL.

Dude reeked of alcohol, then proceeded to squat down and try to talk to each one of my kids, who were terrified.  I finally just grabbed them all and walked away.  As I left, he leaned down into the face of this little old lady in a wheelchair and told her she was the most beautiful girl he'd seen in a long time.  She hit the turbo on her chair and didn't stop until she got to the garden center.

After we lost Really Drunk Kidnapper, we happened into a guy with what seemed to be Cerebral Palsy, although I don't know for certain.  By "happened into" I mean that Donovan tripped him and they both fell into the paper towel display.  After the man yanked Donovan back to my side of the aisle, he decided to figure out what exactly was going on with me having all these short people at Walmart in the first place.

Dude:  Are these all yours?
Me: Yes
Dude:  No, I mean ALL of them.
Me:  Yes, all of them.
Dude:  And you brought them to Walmart?
Me:  Yes.
Dude:  Who helped you?
Me:  Um...I helped myself?
Dude:  No, I mean who helped you get all these kids?
Me:  Get them...into the store?
Dude:  No, just get them...it takes two people, right?
Me:  Oh....uh...he's not here.
Dude:  Well, he should be.  He should be right here pushing another cart and holding a couple kids!  How are you going to push the cart while you're holding that kid?
Me:  I've got lots of practice.
Dude:  I'll help you!

So the followed me for three or four aisles, counting my kids over and over out loud, stopping every time to say "I can't believe you have three kids!"  I would say "There are six."  And then he would scream "SIX??  WHO HAS SIX KIDS???"  My kids were also afraid of this guy, either because of the way he walked or because of the experience with Drunk Dude, so they stayed right next to me for once.  And all the people  looked at me and wondered what the heck was up with that woman, and tried really hard not to be anywhere near me, which turned out to be pretty awesome.

Call Me Ishmael

I finally got my kids back from my other-mother-in-law yesterday, and I was so excited because my house is boring when I'm the only one in it. They weren't so excited to see me, but they were happy to get home and play with the neighbors. I didn't see them until bedtime.

So today, I decided to force them to spend time with me by trapping them in the car. We headed out for coffee with Tracy, where they made me question my desire to spend time with them because they became instantly high-maintenance.

We (read: I) decided to plan a garden, so we went in search of garden-y things. We got sidetracked by a tiny little used-book store tucked in the back corner of a giant strip mall. We ditched the garden-y stuff and went in search of literature. The store is run by a nice little old lady, who loved my kids. They spent an hour picking out the Perfect Book. This included three books with famous cartoon characters on the front cover, which discouraged me somewhat. I think that the notion of writing what kids will read over kids reading the good stuff that has been written is making our nation stupider. But I digress....they got "character books", full of crappy writing and political correctness. I allowed it because, hey, whatever gets them reading, right?

Dalton chose a book on tsunamis. It turned out to be quite frightening. "The last major tsunami killed over 500,000 people, and workers found at least 500 dead bodies every day for months! Stay tuned for a chapter on earthquakes and hurricanes! Here is the definition of 'disaster'!" I was hoping for some comforting words on how to stay safe and maybe a hopeful survival story or two, considering it was written for children, but no.

Huston was in search of "horror". I don't know how he even knew there was a genre for horror, but I told him absolutely not. He settled for an inspiration book about a person called Captain Underpants. Truly, he is my little genius. So proud of that boy, he finished the book before we got home. This child, around whom I have carefully planted the classics that inspired my own love of reading. He's been reading Mark Twain for two years, C.S. Lewis since he could read words instead of pictures, and here he is, in a quaint little book store full of forgotten treasure, purchasing "Captain Underpants." :::sigh:::

Warrick searched every shelf for "Moby Dick". I don't know why, but his search was intense enough to parallel the story itself. Sadly, there wasn't a copy to be found in the store, so he settled for something else, with a promise to obtain Moby after dinner. I was very impressed when he strolled in and asked "Where do you put the classics?"

After book shopping we met my mother-in-law for dinner, during which Huston quoted the underpants dude at least a thousand times.

We got halfway home and remembered about the garden, so we went to Wal-Mart. We sat on the patio furniture for about two hours, wondering how long it would take to save up enough to buy it, then, just as we were starting to fall asleep and get strange looks from the employees, I decided it was time to go home.

I love spring break. We don't have a garden or patio furniture or anything else we set out to see, but we had a great time, we got half price on the books because they were well-behaved, and I didn't have to cook dinner. All in all, a pretty good day.

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.

Smartasticness at WalMart

At the store:

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

Huston: You didn't make a list?

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

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

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

Warrick: What's sarcastic?

Later, still at the store...

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

Me: No, we already got one.

Donovan: :::screams like Emma:::

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

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

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

An hour later, still at the store...

Donovan: :::screaming again:::

Me: What happened to him now?

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

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

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

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

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

Me: Death Face?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Madi: Are acronyms smartastic?

For Sale

Household Dysfunction Going Out of Business Sale!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All items are first come, first serve. 

Happy Dysfunctioning!

*I didn't spill it, the dog did. ;) 

Women with Big Brains

I was shopping today and overheard a conversation between two women that made me want to rethink the entire Girl Power thing. 

First Woman:  Well, I don't know...he said if I get back together with him, he'll get me a boob job."

Second Woman:  Really?  Awwww...How swEEEeeeet!

First Woman:  I know, right? 

Second Woman:  So are you going to break up with the other one?

First Woman:  Well, yeah.

So, all you guys who are trying to win back your woman, think of something you've always wanted and offer to buy it for her.  She'll think your "swEEEeeeet", and come running back. 

Really, women?  Is it so sweet of this guy?  "Hey, if you dump the new guy and come back to me, I'll pay a few thou to fix your 'flaws'...maybe that would make you feel secure that I'm not going to cheat on you, so you'll stop snooping, and I can do whatever I want because you won't be able to see past your own chest!  Plus I'll get access to them whenever I want because I paid for them!  Win/win, right?  Right?"  What's not to love about this deal?  Seriously.  What?

Woman:  "Oh, goodie!  I get built in floating devices, nothing will ever fit me correctly, and nobody will ever take me seriously, because they don't realize I have a brain located roughly one foot above my feedy things!  What more could a girl ask for?!?!?!"

Sheesh...I was embarrassed for all of us.

Here's a list of some other things that may help win your girl back:

• lawn care equipment
• tickets to sporting events
• neckties
• golf clubs
• beer of the month, yo

Good luck!

Epic Shopping

Grocery shopping sucks.

I have been trying to get this budget under control for three months, and just this month, it all started to come together, but we hit a few snags.  This resulted in trips to the grocery store about every other day, and never having the right foods in the house.  You know when you have lots of hamburger meat, half a bag of tortillas and eight thousand popsicles, and you try to make a dinner out of it?  Yeah, that's what it's been like.

So, today I decided to fix it.  I planned a menu for two weeks.  I hate doing that.  Especially after I had to eat April's lunch today and I never want to see food again.  (Not the lunch she made, but the lunch she couldn't eat, and didn't want to hurt the cook's feelings.)  Ugh.  So I made up some meals we might eat and we might not.

Then I added a bunch of random stuff to the list.  This was mostly stuff that I remembered wishing I had in the house throughout the last few weeks, but I probably won't ever want it again.  Like buffalo wings.  I love wings, but I don't really eat them when they're around.  But it's covered, just in case. 

Then I went around the house and made sure we put everything on the list we might need in the next two weeks:  toothpaste, laundry detergent, dog food....beer.  (Ok, beer wasn't on the list, but I did regret this later.)

Then I loaded up the kids and went shopping.  For three hours.  This was our Epic Trip to Avoid Walmart for at Least Two Weeks.

I usually get a lot of looks when I take my kids shopping.  Mostly, it's either other worn out moms with sympathetic smiles, or older couple who ask my kids if they have girlfriends and stuff.  Today was the same until we got to filling the second cart.  Then I started getting looks that were clearly judgemental.  I think they said things like:

You're making an eight year old push that heavy cart? 
Do you really need those cookies?
That's a lot of bread.  (Someone actually said this to me once...I was like, hi, this is a lot of kids.)
Why is that second cart full of beer? (hahaha!  Just kidding!  But I still regretted this.)

THREE HOURS LATER, I was ready to check out.  The checker started crying when we started unloading the second cart.  My kids, who had been very good up to this point, started asking for every single impulse item near the register, and trying to hop on the moving carts of everyone walking by.  I was flustered and yelling at everyone.  This took another half hour.

We left, and on our way out, we ran into a Large Family!  They had five kids, long hair, skirts and two parents...my kind of people, right?  So I smiled all big at the mom.  She glared at me.  What?!?!?!  I'm like you, lady!  I home school!  I go to church!  I believe in marriage and kids!!!  (I realize that I sound all racist about home schooling here, but that's because I am a little racist about home schooling, because home schoolers tend to be racist against the whole world.)  But wait, I looked down.  I was wearing shorts, all sweaty and screamy, my kids were still half dressed because we just left the pool, and I didn't have husband in tow or a ring on my finger....so nope, prolly not their kind of people after all.  So, basically, I don't fit in with the DINK's (double income no kids) from my town that give me looks in the store, and I don't fit in with the crazy big family people, either???  Darn.

On the upside, our van was so full of food that the suspension was taxed, and we got to ride home like this:

...and I dont' have to shop for at least two weeks.  Oh, except to replace the things that melted in the 105 degree heat and the few gallons of milk that exploded when my kids helped carry them in.  Darn again...I need to go back tomorrow.  (PS, this is where the beer should come in.)