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

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.

Kiss Off, OTA

Dear Turnpike Coin Machine,

As much as I have enjoyed our twice daily visits, I am afraid they must come to an end.  You are a liar and a cheat, and I will not be used by you anymore.

Many a time I have sat in line waiting while you hold up one car after another, flirting with them, asking them for more and more of their change while you tease them and make them think they're going to win your green light, but ever flashing only red while they search for more silver change under their floor mats, because you are too good for copper change, and they covet that green light so. 

So I wait, knowing that you save your green light only for me.  I smile at you as I pull up, knowing that I have the exact change you want, and that your green light will surely be mine forever.  I expertly toss my one quarter in your bucket, along with the dime that you began asking for last year.  I have to admit, I hate you a little for that dime, but I sacrifice for you, my darling, because I want to move forward, and this is the only path I know to take.  There is a part of me that despises you for knowing that I will give you whatever coins you ask of me, for knowing that you have all the control in our relationship and that, even if you asked me to drop diamonds in your bucket, I would do it, because I have to get to class on time. 

I drop in the coins, and wait for what I know will come -- your green light.  But you don't give it to me.  Instead, you mock me with red, just as you did all the cars before me.  You ask for more and more from me, but you're not getting it anymore, baby.  After all, you're only a little machine perched on the side of the road.  You can't hurt me.  You can't even talk.  I am through with your pitiful cries for more, more, more.  I am through with accidentally dropping my last quarter on the ground, and trying to decide if I want to search for it or just throw in pennies and hope you don't notice the difference.  It makes me sick every time I finally get the green light, only to be fooled by your non-stop "road construction", which consists not so much of constructing anything as it does orange cones, a lowered speed limit, one less lane and twenty men eating lunch.  If I had only known that you were nothing but a lunch stop for men who drive big un-nameable equipment, I would never have given you my love or my quarters or my dimes, even. 

So, I'm through with you, Turnpike.  You are dead to me.  I have seen what you are and it's not pretty.  You will never trap me into giving my coins to you again.  Until tomorrow when I have to get to class.

But for tonight, it's over.  Forever.  Till tomorrow.

Dear Interwebz

Ok, so in the last few days:

Salute the troops?  Check.
Bitch about the ex?  Check.  (and check, check, check.)
Talked about housework?  Check.
Mommy blogging?  Check.
Funny, inspiring, awe-inducing and interesting?  eh...four out of five isn't bad. 

Some day, I will get some sleep, and no drama will happen for an entire day, and I'll get to go outside and remember what the sun is, and my house will be clean, and my kids will behave, and then, oh Interwebz, I will be so funny that day.

In the meantime, you get this:

A Letter to You, Oh Internet

Dear Internet(s),

I never thought I would fall for a younger man (again).  )You are a man, right?  I'm just assuming because I found porn under your mattress, and also you have no manners.)  (If you're not a man, we need to talk...maybe not a deal breaker, because I think having a wife would kick ass, but still, there's the porn and all the match-making sites which make me wonder if you would be a faithful husband/wife/hermaphrodite/partner at all...) 

I am amazed at how much I care for you, in spite of your awful spelling and your incorrect usage of there, their and they're.  Many times, I have no idea what you are trying to say, and your lack of capitalization and punctuation make me vaguely sick, which may be the feeling I am confusing for love, because really, isn't it all the same?  Or maybe I'm pregnant.  Hold on....

Ok, not pregnant, so I think it's love.  Or the flu.  Or the grammar thing.

I'm glad you're always there for me with your hulu and your facebook and your trolls and your emails.  Also your news and your full-time honesty and your Google and Wikipedia...you have so much to offer for the people who never leave their mom's basement and sit there all day blogging and thinking up the best serial killer plans and taking over the world which is NOT ME (ahem) because I have a life, and also I have kids and I'm too busy because if I took over the world, my kids would break it and everyone would be mad at me.  But for those other people, yeah, you're pretty cool.

I'm glad I wrote this, because I am starting to realize that I don't actually have anything good to say about you Internet.  I think you must not be the gender-neutral "one" for me after all.

It's ok, though.  So we won't get married, no big deal.  I'm too busy for that, and also?  I'm in love with someone else.  Yes, it just happened between the last paragraph and this one.  So peace out, Internets.

We'll always have the memories
MannyRee

Because my elevator advice was so kickin', or Dating after divorce

First, you need to make sure you're available.  If you aren't, you need to figure out why you want to date, and fix that situation right up.  If you can't, you need to get single.  Or if you can't do that, sorry, you're in a mess of trouble.
After establishing your singleness, you need to check your calendar to find out what year it is.  I've noticed that people tend to get stuck in the decade during which they got married/had kids/graduated high school.  So, if it's not 1980, you may want to tone down the bangs and the eyeshadow.  Also? Pants are much lower on the waist these days.  Once you discover the current decade, update your look.  DO NOT update in the junior section, unless you are a junior, or you are me (which you are not).  Do as I say, not as I do, yo.  Trust me.  You should learn any new slang, too, but don't use it (again, unless you are me) ('cuz dis biznitch knows what she's doing, oh foolish one.) (Shut up.)

After that, you have to go hunting trapping fishing for find someone nice.  This is the hard part.  Some things you should look out for are people who live with their parents, people who don't have a car, and people who are drunk.  The first two are obvious, and as for the second one, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but if they start liking you when they're drunk, they probably think you are a couple notches higher on the old rating scale than you really are, so neither one of you really wants to be there the next day when you both realize this fact. 

When you finally do meet that special someone, you need to do some checking.  Make sure they are available.  If they aren't, please do not believe them when they tell you they are leaving their "other life" to be with you.  C'mon, haven't you ever watched Springer?  Make sure you are not related in any way.  Even if you're fourth cousins and it's legal and everything, this will still make for some awkward conversations from time to time, and let's face it, awkwardness = something to avoid at all costs.  And again, Springer, and do you really want to be one of Those People?  (No.  The answer is no, you do not.)  (Again, unless you're me, which, again, you're not.  Sorry.)

The last thing you should do before getting serious about somebody is to check their medicine cabinet.  I'm just sayin'.  They may have something you don't want to catch/deal with/pass on to any future children/hear about in any way. 

Once you've followed all my advice (as well you should have, because I totally rock at this.) (<---never say "rock".), you are on your way to a healthy dating relationship, and you're ready to meet the parents.  Or the kids, or whatever.  If you are a woman, you should dress very provocatively, and wiggle a lot.  Also, have a glass a bottle of wine before you go.  This will help you relax, and you won't remember what anyone was saying about you the next day.  If you are a man, be sure to bring your ego.  You don't want her dad to think you're too into her, so you should make a point to check out all the other women, and also maybe be a little rude to your girl, too.  If her dad or her brothers or sons start cleaning their guns around you, they are trying to tell you something.  What they are trying to say is "Will you please tell me what I'm doing wrong, and also offer to show me how to use this thing?"  Help them...men have a hard time asking for help, and this is the best they can do.  If they are shy about accepting your advice, then try taking the gun away and showing them what you mean.  This will help them relax and know you are a Nice Guy.

Once you've passed this stage, it's on like Donkey Kong (no, no, hands off that one, too...I told you, leave the slang to the experts: teens, Payton Manning, and me), and you are officially a couple.  Next step, borrow someones baby, move in with your parents (both of you), and live without money for a month.  If both of you come out alive, you have completed my Dating Certification.  If one of you is dead, I have no advice for you, other than I suggest that the survivor try video games or blogging instead of dating next time, because you obviously have no business being in a relationship if you can't keep your homicidal tendencies to yourself.  We learned this in kindergarten, kids, did we not?

If you decide to move from Dating to Marriage, don't.  Uh, I mean, congratulations!  :D  haha!  Silly typos!  heh Little slip of the fingers, there. 

So, all in all, it pretty much sucks for you that you're not me, is my point.

A Letter to the Guy Who Beat Gordita

Dear New Boyfriend,

You aren't really new, but it's taken me awhile to get to know you.  I'm glad I finally did.  You are my best friend, and the person I most like to spend time with.  You have always been there for me, and :::insert other cliches here:::.

I don't get to see you very often, and it's a little too embarrassing to date you in public, but you know that I would if I could, right?

Our relationship is so hard to explain, and I know it's a little damaging to both of us, but I don't want to end it.  You're amazing and wonderful and I love you.  You make me smile, and I love the nights we have together.  When the winter comes, I suppose you'll be leaving me, or I'll drown my sorrow in hot chocolate, because winter isn't really our time, is it?  I'll treasure the summer, though, baby, and I promise to always write corny and sentimental things about you in my journal forevermore. 

Love,
Me

A Letter to My New Boyfriend

Dear Gordita Supreme,

Where have you been all my life?  I know that's a pretty cheesy line, but I happen to know that you've been around for awhile, and never once has anyone told me how incredible you are.

Fate brought us together today because you were on the new $2 menu, and I had exactly $2....I wouldn't have even looked at you except that you came with a drink.  As luck would have it, I was parched, and didn't have enough cash for my typical Taco Bell choice, so the awesome drink won out.

Little did I know it was a match made in heaven.

I'm not sure what you're wrapped in, but it's all yummy and not a boring old tortilla at all (which probably disqualifies you as Mexican food).  Then you are all filled up like a taco, but so much better. I could have sat with you all day, but you were a little over-filled and tried to get to second base, and that was a little too much for out first meeting.  I'm just not that kind of girl, Gordita.

Now, Gordita, my love, do not be afraid.  I will not stalk you, nor will I stock you (I AM the interwebz, foo'), because even though I had $2 today, on most days, I do not.  And even if I had $2 on most days, I would, in all honesty, not spend it on you.

But there would be some days...maybe one per month?  Oh, then, Gordita, we could be together on those days, and it would be fantastic. 

I love you forever, and I'm so glad we've finally met.

Love,
MannyRee

Single Life

Here's what sucks about being "single" (I have to put that in quotes, because I'm not technically single, I am merely alone, but I don't really feel alone, because I do have awesome people who I LOVE in my life, but they don't live with me, and if I ever do get lonely, I have this sentence which is so long that it's now alive and could probably keep me company if I ever needed it to.)...

...now...let's see...um......

I don't remember why I was even going to talk about that.  Because, hello, people sometimes read this, and I'm sure I had a point, but if I go on now, I would clearly say something that I don't want people reading, or at least people who already don't like me and will pick it apart and make it something it's not....<---Oh, LOOK!  Another sentence boyfriend!  I should do this for a living because I obviously rock at it.

Making long sentences to move in with, that is.

Not writing about why it sucks to be fake-single.

Because I'm not really single...did I mention that?  And even if I were, I have no idea what single people do, so I prolly wouldn't do that anyway.  I'd probably move into my mom's basement and be a nerdy creepy blogger. 

...Oh.  Yeah.  Well, I don't live in the basement.  But I did come close.  But I'm in a real house.  So it's all good.  ...  Shut up.

Nerdy is the new hot, right?  Does that apply to girls?  Hmmm...I guess it doesn't matter if I'm hot or not, since I'm fake single, not real single, so who frikkin' cares?

So, that's what I have to say about that.  Good talk, yo.

Favorito Amigo

Te amo, mi solamente,
You are the sunlight in my day.

You cause me to write corny things that rhyme,
I think of you every moment in time.

I love waking up to see you there,
You're beautiful dressed up and when you are bare.

I want you to always be here with me,
mi amor, my one, my only...coffee.