Official Rules of Social Networking: Part2

photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

You know what I could write about, Internetz? Well, I could write about all the drama. But I'm not going to today. Know why? Because it's against The Rules. And I always follow the rules while I'm making them up.

The long-anticipated (hush, you know you were anticipating) "Part 2".

I am angry at (insert name), he/she doesn't read my blog, and I'd like to write a tell-all post about them so my followers will write me nice, supportive comments about what a wonderful person I am. Is that allowed?
No, Internetz. Please stop typing while angry. I beg of you, this has to end. Think of the object of your rage, and imagine reading your post to them in a room full of their friends and also the rest of the world. If you wouldn't do that, don't write it. You may think they don't read your blog, and perhaps they don't. But never rule out Kevin Bacon. Sometime, somewhere, somebody will read that post and know who you've scorned. Links are easy to share. The person you've roasted in your blog WILL eventually read it. If you think I'm lying, call the last person you complained about on the Internet. Was that call uncomfortable? They know.


I'd like to tell My Personal Story on my blog. Is that all right?
Of course you can tell your story. That's what blogs are, a one-sided spotlight on YOU and how WONDERFUL you are! (Not this one, though - THIS blog is saving the world.) Just remember the above rule. If you want to lash out at someone in the midst of your personal story, they will see it.

Is it all right to post to all of my social networking accounts at once?
Convenient as this may seem, you really should never do this. Especially if you are on LinkedIn. I have a LinkedIn connection who constantly updates on the #BestCheeseburger and #whateverhe'sdoinginthebathroom. Twitter may care about this. Facebook doesn't. And I'm sure future employers on LinkedIn are running the other direction. (Don't worry, guys, he doesn't read my blog.)

Does Facebook care about my privacy?
No. Nobody in the world but you cares about your privacy. You know those pesky Terms of Use nobody ever reads? Anything you put on a social network is public. Here's what I can see about people I don't know on Facebook:

• where they live
• where they work
• who they're "in a relationship" with and every listed family member
• all friends
• photos
• every group they belong to, who added them (or if they requested to join), and how long they've been a member
• the address to their (gasp!) blog 

I don't say this to frighten you. If you have nothing to hide, you're just fine. If you think you have a little secret on Facebook, you're wrong.

This is all I have left, the rest is common sense. (Grammar, though - for real.) (Also spelling.)

Train of Thought - the Panic Version

My babies all got home today, and also got enrolled in school -- a mere two days before it starts. Donovan lucked out and managed to crawl his way off the Pre-K waiting list, but I still have to convince him not to poop his pants between the hours of 12 and 4 to make this work. Otherwise, insanity begins anew on Friday.

I seriously considered quitting school this year. My household is already dysfunctional enough when I'm here alone -- the trauma of last school year is sure to be repeated this fall. But for now, I'll see how it goes. There is a chance that God is going to decide I've had enough at some point and things will slow down. There is a slightly better chance I just made Him laugh.

Ninja Truck is still un-fixed. I found him a doctor today, and from what I've heard, this new guy doesn't tell lies and such. Maybe things will start coming together.

The laundry is almost all the way caught up from when the washer and dryer broke. A few more days, and it'll be back to only holding up the walls in the laundry room instead of the entire house. And it's rained, so mowing will have to commence. And something needs to be done about the half a tree we lost in the front yard. Well, we didn't lose it so much as the tree lost it -- I found it on the birdbath amongst the lilies. And there are some major household projects that need to be started within a week. Basically, I am praying for an army of handymen to show up at my house and fix shit while I'm not looking because I still have kids and homework and meals and a dog and groceries and class and church and - most importantly - a blog. So really, I am short on time and long on things needing done.

Clearly, this pisses me off a little bit. But I can't remember a time we weren't running around crazy, so I'm guessing we will get through this, as well. You know what would be nice, though, would be some time to just raise my kids. Teach them things like "how to find your shoes" and "don't poop in your pants" and "coloring is only for paper". The urgent is always getting in the way of the important around here. I wonder how to make that stop?

I think a few beers, a good football game, and some mud to play in ought to fix everything. Maybe next month.

A Talk With The Lawn Mower

Me: doopty doo...la la la...lawn mowin' time

Lawn Mower: Nah.

Me: C'mon...I'll grab us some beers, we circle the lawn a few time...it'll be fun!

Lawn Mower: Let's don't and say we did.

Me: Or...let's do and make the neighborhood wonder if new people moved in.

Lawn Mower: OR I could sit here in the shed while you go make me a sandwich, woman!

Me: Um, no. My house, my rules. We're mowing the lawn, Lawn Mower. :::puts gas in the tank::: (yes, I did, thanks for asking, little brother) :::pulls the lever-y type thing::: (yup, did that, also.) :::pulls the...uh...stringy thing::: (Ok, I don't know what it's called, but I know what I'm supposed to do with it)

Lawn Mower: Nooooooooo!!!

Me: :::repeats process, remembering to prime it first:::

Lawn Mower: Gah! I can't resist...one little taste of gasoline and I must guzzle more!!! :::springs to life (or whatever you call "starting"):::

Me: :::starts the iPod, opens a beer, mows about two square feet of grass:::

Lawn Mower: Annnd...nevermind. I quit. :::dies:::

Me: Dude! You shook up my beer. And the yard is very big and very tall. We have a lot of work to do.

Lawn Mower: Nah. I'm out, yo. Not so big on the whole "working" thing today. Hey, would you mind giving me a push back into the shed?

Me: No way, buddy, I'm gonna' get this grass cut. :::Googles "how to fix the damn lawn mower::: :::finds all the answers:::

Sky: :::gets dark:::

Me: Ok, Lawn Mower, I've got you now, my pretty. And your little dog, too! Wait, what? Anyway, I Googled your ass, so even though it's too dark to work on you now, I'll be all over you tomorrow. :::laughs maniacally:::

Lawn Mower: Maniacal laughter is so over, yo. It's all about the quiet owning now. Dork.

Me: Doesn't matter, you'll get owned tomorrow, just as soon as I find out what the hell an air filter is and where it might be located on your person. So HA!

:::yawns::: :::types words and falls asleep:::

Guys, I just can't write tonight.  I tried, I really did.  It was all about my enemies The Wasps, and it was sooo funny, but I'm too tired.  I can't think straight.

I am pretty sure now that looking at numbers all day long takes all the funny away.  Can numbers be funny?  I think not.  I screwed up my project this afternoon, trying to balance the books for this fake company.  They won't balance, and it's not freaking funny.  It was a little humorous when they almost balanced after one correction, only to go horribly in the other direction after the next correction.  Now I have to pull out all those receipts again and start over.  It's just not funny.

Also, my Taz screamed for over an hour in the car, and then got in some more time when she had to go to bed.

And Donovan wants his daddy, but his daddy is apparently asleep, and it's only me here.  And it's almost eleven and I can't convince him that he is old enough to just go. to. sleep.  Please.

The boys got in trouble for saying "bad words" at the neighbor's house, and got themselves grounded (I hear the "S" word and the "C" word were flying around.  Pretty bad.  Except that they obviously didn't learn it from me because it was "Shut up"  and "crap", which, I'm a little more expressive than that, thank you very much!)  Boys being grounded = boys being in my house all day with nothing to do and only one of them likes to read = mommy is really the one grounded.

We had chicken nuggets for dinner.  I used to be a good cook.  Now, I'm a good re-heater.  That's just wrong.  Chicken nuggets aren't dinner, right?  I can't wait for fall break, I'm making....dang it, I can't even remember what I know how to cook anymore.

Talked to an old friend on Sunday, which inspired yesterday's post.  That was good.  Then another old friend texted me an old pic of me with some guy who had his arms all around me, and I don't remember who in the world this guy is!  What is that about?  I was always in long relationships, so I never had some random guy I took pictures with.  I think it's this Polish guy I dated for like, one day.  He was so mannerly I couldn't stand it, and I love manners.  The thing is, I remember we went to the lake, and he tried to kiss me.  I moved away, and he said "It's rude for a man to make love to a woman without her permission, will you please take off your shirt?"  And I said "Take me home, buddy."  What's funny is he sent me a thank you card after he went home saying "...it was my the best evening in the states"...which means his trip must have sucked, because he was here for nearly a year, and I was kind of mean after the whole polite weirdness thing.  Maybe it was a translation thing, I don't know. 

So, I am sorry for my bits of randomness tonight, I am off to bed so maybe I can remember the wasp story for you tomorrow. 

Teaching Children Proper Racism

I am the most un-judgemental person ever born.  Well, no I'm not, but I like to say that.  I am only racist against a few people, namely: men who drive pickups yet are still rude (I take offense to this, as I always expect them to be nice), people who are judgemental or racist against anything that I'm not racist against, people who don't like me, and people who call DHS on me.  See?  That's not too bad, right?  None of the usualy stereotypes, so I think I'm good. 

By virtue of heredity, my kids should be good in this area, as well, but here is the conversation I had with my almost ten year old son this evening:

Warrick:  Were any of our ancestors cowboys?

Me:  Not that I know of.

Warrick:  Really?  How is that possible?

Me:  Well, I don't know...I just don't think they were.

Warrick:  So we don't have any Indian blood and we're not cowboys....what are we?  Mexicans?

Me:  PAHAHAHAHA! 

Warrick:  What?  Are we part Mexican, part cowboy?  No.... that doesn't even make sense! 

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...

Then and Now

Driving to church this morning, I realized that my life has become completely out of control...there isn't one thing in my life that turned out the way I planned it when I was a teen and knew everything.

For one thing, I drive a van.  It's a mini-van, yo.  Yeah, it's not a '69 Stingray, or even a Corvette at all...or a pickup. 

Also, I'm heading for divorce.  And the cop told me the other night that divorce keeps them busy.  I was all "Oh, yeah, but I'm so not one of Those People!  hehe  You don't understand...." And then I looked around and realized, oh, yeah, I guess I am.  Damn it.

I do not live in a giant house with white everything, including the giant canopy bed and curtains fluttering in the slight spring breeze year-round, where I sit and play all day with my perpetually eight month old baby and my long perfectly styled hair in a silk robe waiting on Prince Charming to come home so we can eat the perfect meal that just shows up on the table every evening and then gets cleaned up by fairies.Pretty much every part of that went wrong.  Nothing in my house is white, because duh, I have a total of zero curtains, my bed is a mattress on a frame, my kids freakin' grew up, I have to cook and clean up dinner, and Prince Charming went out for a drink 12 years ago and never came back, and I can't say that I blame him.  Also, the hair thing never worked out, either, which frankly, is the biggest disappointment of all.

Wanna' know what I'm going to school for?  Accounting.  Yup.  I hate anything having to do with math, and also anything that is boring.  So yeah.  Weirdly?  I enjoy it, because I like the order and the black-and-whiteness of it.    But, no, I am not a famous author, nor a Broadway star, which was totally part of my plan.  I am still holding out for the welder/mechanic/event planner/comedienne/interior designer job, but just in case, I'll do the accounting thing, too.

The biggest difference between the Plan and the Reality is the fact that I am some one's mom.  Actually, six someone's's's's (someoneses?) mom.  Even though I always knew I would be a mom (to that eight month old), I kinda' figured that would happen when I was in my thirties.  I did not figure that I would turn thirty already a mother of six, my baby already three, my oldest almost ten, and no chance of having that perpetual eight month old because I don't have a (don't worry, dad, I won't say "uterus") (hahahahahahaha) husband. (LOL!)  (hehehehehe)  (I'm still laughing, because if I want to write a secret from my dad, now is the time to do it...don't worry, dad, those things don't really exist.)

So, my life hasn't turned out at all how I thought, but it's ok.  I kinda' like it better this way.  I mean, it would be soooo boring laying around looking at nothing but white.  And while eight month olds are cute, it's not like they're really that great of company 24/7.  And Prince Charming is a myth, and it sucks to live with myths, because they're all full of themselves because they live in fairy land and you live in reality, and they're always holding it over your head like they're better than you or something.  And I really like my kids a lot, even if they do grow and stuff, and even if they came earlier than I thought they would.  I'm glad they did, actually, because it's more like I'm a kid, too, and they're my buddies, which makes me the Awesomest Mom Ever.  (Don't ask them about this, because, well, they don't like to brag because not every kid gets a mom as awesome as me and they don't want the other kids to feel bad, so they always lie and say "Oh, my mom is the worst, she's so mean and makes us clean and do homework and she's not cool at all and she tries to be cool but it's just embarrassing"...just take my word for it, ok?...ok?)