Forget the Zombie Apocolypse Guys, We Got Wasps

During the hottest day of this year (and for this year, that's pretty dang hot), we were out for about five hours in the middle of the afternoon. When we got home, I noticed that the kids had left the door open.

After being in the hot truck, I figured this was something to care about, because my house doesn't stay very cool as it is, and a wide open door meant a very hot house. I was pretty upset when I saw that it was nearly 100 degrees in the house, and our little AC was just chugging non-stop.

Then I looked around and suddenly gave not a single shit that it was hot because it was the FREAKINGWASPOCOLYPSE in my house. Every ceiling of every room I could see was covered in wasps. While I will admit that I DID wonder how I could snap a picture for the Blog of Awesomeness, I did not want to take my eyes off those suckers for one second.

Instead, I held one hand toward the ceiling in the universal gesture of "STOP", did some ninja moves with the other hand in the universal gesture of "There are six little helpless kids RIGHT HERE, so nobody needs to bother with stinging ME!", and ducked. The wasps didn't really care to notice me because they were busy electing members of Congress for their new ceiling country.

I went outside, but they had left guards stationed out there. While I'm over my extreme fear of wasps, I still have a tiny one. And you know that buggy feeling you get like they're crawling all over you and you think "this is what a 'bad trip' must feel like?" I felt safer in the house where they were holding town hall debates instead of outside where they seemed more ready for combat.

I texted my brother and said "IT'S AN EMERGENCY! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIIE!"

I'm not sure what happened after that, but at some point my dad showed up with two giant black cans of Wasp Death. I took some time to fashion holsters out of pantyhose so I could feel all awesome with my dual cans, said "bring it on" (only because of my accent it sounded more like "ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap"), and started shooting.

The wasps said "thwumpthwumpthwump" and I screamed a lot and there were maybe a few tears of terror. But in the end, nobody got stung and I felt like a badass and my house smelled really bad. And so ended the Epic Wasp Annihilation of 2011. Songs were written and sung, feasts were prepared, and rejoicing was heard throughout the land in the form of six short people who never once looked up from their movie the entire time.

Laughter is the best medicine, but only if you're the patient

It's been so long since I've blogged that my site doesn't even recognize me anymore.

This week has been insane.  My grandmother had a heart attack Saturday, and has been in the hospital.  My sisters and I went up Monday and Tuesday evening to visit her.  Monday, as we were leaving, there was an elderly woman being carted to another room from the elevator.  As her bed wheeled past me, my two pregnant sisters, and the other sister carrying her newest baby, the woman got a somewhat terrified look on her face, turned around and asked the guy pushing her "Am I on the maternity ward???  Why am I on the maternity ward?"  Poor lady....we frightened her.  Then, we laughed so hard that the family on the elevator didn't want us with them and we had to wait for the next one.  Apparently, it's not polite to giggle insanely in a hospital.

Which turned out to be a bummer the next night when we were visiting my grandmother who had just finished a procedure and was coming off the sedatives.  She was hilarious, emphasis on the HI.  We were trying so hard not to laugh, because every time we did, she would suddenly become extremely aware and ask why we were laughing.

She asked for some "not cold" water, so when April tried to give it to her, my grandmother asked if it was cold.  April said "Well, it's a little chilly".  So my grandmother, forgetting her previous question, said "There's the thermostat right there."  She then proceeded to blow into the straw, at which Ashley suggested that maybe our grandma thought April was the respiratory therapist.  I had to hide behind the bed to laugh and told my sisters they were all grounded from talking.

We asked the nurse if we could perhaps have some of whatever they were giving my grandma (the meds, not the pudding), but she said no.  Which was too bad, because Marcy could have used it when she left her cell phone with my aunt right before her husband started sending naughty text messages.  (Which wasn't actually a true story, but it was really funny while we thought it was.)

My cousin in at the same hospital, so we got to go visit her a little, too.  She wasn't high or anything but she's still kinda funny.  My family is inappropriately hilarious at hospitals, is my point, which is why we like to go visit sick people so much, but maybe also why sick people don't want us to.

Hospitality

Ha!  Gotcha!  Mwuahahahahahahahahaha!!!!  :::twirls evil-villain mustache:::  I just scared some people.  That was your early Halloween gift, Miss Lady Who Wouldn't Want to Read About Hospitality. 

I won't talk about hospitality at all.  Because one time, I was at a function, and I heard a woman claim that she was given the "gift" of hospitality.  The thing is, my husband was in the hospital that week, I had given birth to my sixth child a couple weeks before this event, and my husband was in charge of bringing some of the supplies for this event. (You can read about this time here.) I heard about these "supplies" about an hour before the event, and I was told to bring them.  I didn't even know what they were.  So I gathered up what I could and went. 

They were wrong.  So I took my baby and my other five kids to WalMart to get the right ones, only the thing was, those supplies don't even exist.  So I went back to the event, where the queen of hospitality yelled at me for not getting it right, told me I ruined the event and that I had wasted a lot of peoples' time, and made me cry.  I managed to get myself under control after half a Xanax and thirty minutes crying in my car, and went back inside just in time to hear all about her hospitality.  From her own mouth.  So, I don't really believe in hospitality, because my thought is that people who say they are hospitable probably see it as a chore, and that shows.  Truly hospitable people are naturally welcoming because they are just that way, and they don't think enough about it to call themselves hospitable. 

So I won't talk about that.  :)

Instead, I am going to spend the rest of my writing time on a special project that I may or may not link on this blog.  Maybe on the Catholic blog...I just don't know, ok? 

Please pray for a dear friend who is seriously ill in the hospital since yesterday, and for his wife, his children and grandkids, and all of the "kids" to whom he's been like a second dad. 

I'm too classy for this divorce...so classssy

Well, Interwebz, I hired me a lawyer today. 

After trying to explain to the sheriff's department that I wasn't one of Those People who get divorced all white trash style and have to call the sheriff's department, and he rolled his eyes at me, I decided to do whatever it takes to class this divorce up a little bit.  So, first I found me a fancy pants lawyer.  He has shiny hair and a big watch, so that'll do real well.  Then, I went to meet with him and sat at a loooong table with huuuge chairs, even though it was just me and him.  That was fancy, too, even though he didn't offer me a drink, which I think would have been absolutely appropriate, and also needed, but probably would have made him roll his eyes at me when I insisted I was a teetotaler.

I started telling him how classy of a client he just landed, and how I never do anything trashy at all, and therefore my kids would be better off in my custody, because I won't white-trash them up or anything, because we only have good clean fun and we aren't rednecks AT ALL.

See?

So, after I had him thoroughly convinced, I then had to explain to him why they should not go live with my ex, and I was trying really hard to not be mean about that, either, because I don't really have to be.  I think divorce is like politics.  Mostly, people fight based on "I don't suck as bad as the other guy", when in reality, it should just be "I am awesome enough that the other guy doesn't matter at all."  However, just in case, my lawyer wanted to know what's going on with my ex.

So I told him.  Only it kind of blew up in my face, because here's kind of how the conversation went:

Shiny-haired Lawyer:  So, your ex has had some unstable behavior patterns?

Me:  Yes

SHL:  Like what?

Me:  Well, he's been...:::insert three things here:::  (Sorry, still can't be too mean on the Internets.)

SHL:  Really?  How do you know this?

Me:  Well, my cousin told me.

SHL:  Your cousin?

Me:  Yeah, he hangs out with my cousin, but my cousin really likes me better, so I mean, I think we're good.

SHL:  Would your cousin testify?

Me:  Maybe if I buy him a beer.

SHL:  :::sighs:::  Nevermind, ..mutter mutter...subpoena

Me:  Well, if not, maybe we could ask my cousins girlfriend or my other cousin or I have two other cousins that know :::different stuff he did::: and we could ask them.

SHL:  Really.  Sure.

Me:  Yip.

SHL:  Ok, know what?  Let's talk about you some more, ok?  Please don't say cousin anymore.  So, obviously you're working full time.

Me:  Nope

SHL:  Part time?

Me:  Nope...I'm in school

SHL:  Oh, you're a full-time student?

Me:  Not really...part-time.

SHL:  Ooook...so, um, how many credit hours?

Me:  Wellll....none?  But I mean, well, it's vo-tech, so like, uhhhh....everything's kind of different, so I don't really get credit hours this semester, but..

SHL:  Ok, wait, it's ok...let's move on.  Have you ever done drugs?

Me:  Let's move on.

SHL:  Can you pass a drug test?  Please tell me you can pass a drug test.

Me:  OH...chyeah!  Of course I can pass a drug test.  Dude...I told you, I'm classy. Pshhh

SHL:  Ok, well, are you shacking up?

Me:  Waaay too classy for that.

SHL:  Do you beat your kids?

Me:  I'm so classy, I have nannies that beat my kids for me, yo.

SHL:  uh...well, is your house clean?

Me:  Well, see?  The thing is...um...well, like, what do you mean by clean?  Because if you mean is it classy, then absolutely yes.  If you mean is there a big mess on top of all the class, then also yes.

SHL:  :::sighs:::  Ok, I'm going to see what I can do with this, and I'll get back to you tomorrow.  Can you at least pay me?

Me:  Hang on...lemme text my mama and see...

How to deal with awkward situations...

My advice on how to deal with awkward situations...because you didn't ask, but I know you wanted to.

#1.  TMI Chick.  The person who tells you something way too personal or awful within the first few minutes of meeting them.  This is one of my pet peeves.  I usually like people when I first meet them, and when I don't, I usually find something to like about them the second time I see them.  But when people do this to me, they get an automatic probation for at least six months before I will even consider liking them again.  Have you ever had this conversation:

Me:  Hi, I'm Mandy, nice to meet you.
TMI Chick:  Hi.  I'm TMI.  Aww...is this your dog?  What's his name?
Me:  Yes, his name is Shucks
TMI:  I love dogs.  My sister has two who live with me now. 
Me:  Oh, that's cool.  I love dogs, too.
TMI:  Yeah.  She died.  My sister, I mean, died last month and I have to watch her dogs.
Me:  Oh, no, I'm so sorry.
TMI:  It's ok.  My mom and Dad were killed last year, and I'm the last person in our family, and I had a hysterectomy so I guess it all ends with me.  *sigh* :::looks at me questioningly as if I might be able to fix this situation:::
Me: Oh, uh...that's too bad...
TMI:  ...
Me: ...so...well, I guess I better go...get some beer.  Really nice meeting you, though!

Not that this isn't a sad story, but c'mon!  This is less than one minute of conversation!  What are you supposed to say to this?

Solution:  Always carry a drink.  If someone you just met mentions death, surgery or AA, hurry and swallow a chunk of ice.  You need to choke a little so that your eyes water and you turn all red, then wave your hand like you'll be right back after you clear up your little "problem".  Avoid running into TMI from then on. 

#2.  The Trapper.  The person who catches you at a party and tries to hold you hostage.  I never sit in one place at a party.  I pretty much time my conversations, and if they last longer than five minutes, it's time to move on.  I don't do this to be rude, but mostly because I rarely go anywhere without my kids, and if I don't check on them every five minutes, they're bound to be doing something terrible. 

At every party, there are known "talkers", and most of us know who to avoid.  But sometimes, people just turn into Trappers out of the blue.  They are like predators, cutting you away from the rest of the crowd, trapping you in a corner, and standing directly in front of you, teeth bared, daring you to try to get away before they've finished talking your ears off.  No amount of subtle hinting or body language works on these people. 

Solution:  First rule, never sit down.  If you're sitting, you're very vulnerable, and you'll be eaten alive.  If you sit down and get Trapped, don't come crying to me, because I warned you already.  Second, if you are innocently standing and mingling, and you still get caught, you'll have to sacrifice a friend.  You wait until you make eye contact with someone (anyone), and call their name loudly and wave them over to you.  You have to be very aggressive about this, because if they can pretend they didn't hear you, they will, because they know exactly what you're doing.  Say "Hey, Buddy!  Have you met Trapper?  He was just telling about blah, blah, blah, and it reminded me of when you blah, blah, blah...hey, I'll be right back, I'm gonna' go get us some drinks!"  Then  run like the hell and don't come back.  (Don't sacrifice a buddy you really wanna' keep -- trust me on this.)

#3.  The Proximity Person.  These are people you don't know, yet are forced to chat with because of proximity, such as on the elevator, standing in line, or in a waiting room.  Elevators seem to cause the most anxiety, because you're all at eye level and in a few small square feet of space, and you have no control over when you may exit. 

I try to say hi when I get on an elevator, because I find it rude when I'm the first one, then someone else gets on and ignores me.  I was there first, so it's like it's my elevator, which pretty much means the same thing as my house, and you don't just walk into someones home without saying hi, right?  But after hi, there isn't really much else to say.  If I have my kids with me, I just look at them and smile, like "isn't this exciting???  We're on an ELEVATOR, kids!!!"  It worked for awhile, but now they're older, and they're all "Mom, shut up."  So, yeah, that kinda sucks.

Solution:  First, say hi, like I said.  If there are ten people on the elevator, look them in the eye and say hello to each of them individually.  If the mood seems right, go ahead and shake their hands or even hug them.  Occasionally, even a little kiss would be appropriate, but never any tongue unless you've been together for three or more floors.  At this point, clothing is optional and you should be throwing winks at the security camera, because you know the guys who watch that video all day have to be pretty bored.  If the people on the elevator are all people you don't want to be that friendly with, you should immediately push the button for every floor between the current one and your ultimate destination, so that you have a possible escape every few seconds in case anyone tries to make out with you or say anything besides hi.

These are tried and true methods of coping with awkward people, but they aren't fool-proof.  If you find yourself in a situation you simply cannot escape, then look to the experts for advice:

Old People:  Old people don't care what anyone thinks about them, and they have no problem just saying they are done and walking away.  If you aren't this bold, you could also try sudden incontinence.

Babies:  Babies use incontinence, as well.  Again, if that's not your thing, puking on someone is a sure-fire way to get rid of them.

My three year old niece:  When she feels awkward, she does one of two things, and I think we grownups should adopt both of these as a way to deal with these kinds of situations...
Hook the sides of your mouth with your fingers and pull.  You may stick your tongue out if it feels right to you. 
Also, raspberries.  Like, the kind with your mouth, not the kind you eat.  It works like magic for my niece.

Hello Again

I finally have my beloved computer back after six months of living at my grandparents' house.  Long story, but I'm sure some of my bitterness has seeped out into previous posts, so you probably know why.  If not, sorry...this is not the time or place.

So, over the last few months, I have learned a lot about myself.  For one thing, I turned thirty.  That means instant smart all by itself, so that was cool.  Well, it was cool after I got home from my party and sobered up three days later.  I also learned I'm too old to party.

I learned that I like hardwood floors and red dirt roads.  Lots and lots.

I have learned that, even though I'm a grown up, I still don't get what I want, and I still want to whine about it a little.

There are other things too...when more time has gone by, I can share them.  Mostly, my funny stories need some time to marinate so the people who star in them forget about it and aren't mad at me for writing it.

I have some really good friends.

I may be insta-smart thirty, but I still make stupid mistakes sometimes.  They are either more fun or more painful than the ones I made as a teen...I'm not sure which, but I have a suspicion that they're both.

So, that's what I know.  Night.