I forgot to tell in my last post:
I have had a response from two agencies for my writing. I am researching them to see which I like. Plus, I have several others I'm waiting on. Two in one week, a few days after submitting, not too bad.
Now, I'm also working on essays for some literary magazines.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Can't Think of a Catchy Title For This One
Okay, so I have had horrible back and neck problems for a few years. I was told it was progressive and not really treatable because of the proximity of the problem to my spinal cord. Pretty much it's agony. I get a spinal block every couple of months, and that is just slapping a band aid on it, and it eventually becomes ineffective. Well, it became ineffective. Out of desperation, I made an appointment with a chiropractor. My Mom always told me they were "quacks" and couldn't do anything. Well, that's a load of crap. (Sorry, Mom.)
They xrayed the hell out of me and did nothing much else the first visit except have me do things the neurologist had me do a million times. (by the way, the x ray machine has something called a "gonad" cover. Tee hee...) I went in to my follow up appointment, and I had an "adjustment", it felt good. I got put on a machine that pulled on my skull, it felt FABULOUS, and I had electrical impulses on my back muscles and shouler muscles. Felt like nothing. I do have to tell you though, my pain is almost entirely GONE after ONE visit. I will be going 3 times a week, and I am looking forward to every single visit. There is my glowing testimonial. It works. That's all I know.
Okay, the weird thing about my first visit: the staff was very nice, very solicitous and professional. After I saw the chiropractor, one of the staff had to xray me. She also had to have me walk with my eyes shut(fell over almost..how embarrassing), I had to close my eyes and march in place with my arms stretched out in front of me. Terribly humiliating. Try doing that in flip flops sometime. I don't care who you are. But then, when it came time to xray me, the lady got all strange. She was telling me what to take off and what to leave on. I'm pretty modest about you know running around naked, but in a doctor's office or massage place, I sorta expect I'm going to have to get naked or partially naked, right? The girl was telling me to remove all clothing from the waist down. I said, "Okay." She said, "You can leave on your shirt and bra." I said, "Okay." She said, "You have to take off your bra, though. You can leave on your shirt." I said, "Wait, what? Leave on or take off the bra?" she said, "Yes." Uhhhh...Okay. I tried again. "So, I basically need to undress completely?" She said, "Well, it depends on what you are comfortable with." I said, "I'm good with whatever...just tell me what I need to do..." She said, "Here you have to put these on.." and she handed me a pair of like athletic stretchy shorts. I said, "so, put these on?" She said, "Yes. If you're comfortable with that." I said, "I'm comfortable with whatever is needed, just tell me." She said, "Okay, take off everything but put these shorts on." I said, "So, naked except for these shorts and my flip flops? I don't really care, but that will look stupid." I said, "Tell ya what, I'll just figure it out and be in there in a minute." She said, "Okay." and left. I took off the bra because of the hooks, I figured the metal was bad in an xray, I don't know. I took off everything from the waist down and put on those horrid shorts, and now that I'm thinking about it....who else's privates have been in those shorts without the benefit of underwear? Jesus! Oh God! Now I'm really scared. What if I get some disease or critter??? I need to talk to them on Monday. Dammit. Shit. Deep breath...okay.
So, my xrays were great. I evidently stripped to the precise degree and now probably have a zoo in my crotch. DAMMIT!
Summary: Horrible back pain that was on it's way to having my vertebrae fusing together...almost entirely gone. Drugs used: none. Needles used: none. Massage and trigger points massaged and triggered, many. Blissful. Skulls put in a machine and pulled up and away from the spine: one. chiropractors work. I couldn't be upright for more than a few minutes before that visit. I skipped my spinal block shot yesterday. I don't have to lay flat on my back with a heating pad now. I do have to take it easy until everything is finished healing, though. Today, the left side (the side I have almost all my problems on) of my face was sore. Like I'd been punched. Weird. Very strange. I speculated that the chiropractor moved bones or something. It's sore like it's healing or something. From right above my left eye, down my left temple, and under the left eye. I've heard that the skull bones can be manipulated because they are fused together not terribly tightly, to allow for movement...I don't know how true that it, but I find it interesting. If you know, let me know.
Currently Reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Some Girls: My Life in a Harem by Jillian Lauren
Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
Secrets of the Zohar by Michael Berg
They xrayed the hell out of me and did nothing much else the first visit except have me do things the neurologist had me do a million times. (by the way, the x ray machine has something called a "gonad" cover. Tee hee...) I went in to my follow up appointment, and I had an "adjustment", it felt good. I got put on a machine that pulled on my skull, it felt FABULOUS, and I had electrical impulses on my back muscles and shouler muscles. Felt like nothing. I do have to tell you though, my pain is almost entirely GONE after ONE visit. I will be going 3 times a week, and I am looking forward to every single visit. There is my glowing testimonial. It works. That's all I know.
Okay, the weird thing about my first visit: the staff was very nice, very solicitous and professional. After I saw the chiropractor, one of the staff had to xray me. She also had to have me walk with my eyes shut(fell over almost..how embarrassing), I had to close my eyes and march in place with my arms stretched out in front of me. Terribly humiliating. Try doing that in flip flops sometime. I don't care who you are. But then, when it came time to xray me, the lady got all strange. She was telling me what to take off and what to leave on. I'm pretty modest about you know running around naked, but in a doctor's office or massage place, I sorta expect I'm going to have to get naked or partially naked, right? The girl was telling me to remove all clothing from the waist down. I said, "Okay." She said, "You can leave on your shirt and bra." I said, "Okay." She said, "You have to take off your bra, though. You can leave on your shirt." I said, "Wait, what? Leave on or take off the bra?" she said, "Yes." Uhhhh...Okay. I tried again. "So, I basically need to undress completely?" She said, "Well, it depends on what you are comfortable with." I said, "I'm good with whatever...just tell me what I need to do..." She said, "Here you have to put these on.." and she handed me a pair of like athletic stretchy shorts. I said, "so, put these on?" She said, "Yes. If you're comfortable with that." I said, "I'm comfortable with whatever is needed, just tell me." She said, "Okay, take off everything but put these shorts on." I said, "So, naked except for these shorts and my flip flops? I don't really care, but that will look stupid." I said, "Tell ya what, I'll just figure it out and be in there in a minute." She said, "Okay." and left. I took off the bra because of the hooks, I figured the metal was bad in an xray, I don't know. I took off everything from the waist down and put on those horrid shorts, and now that I'm thinking about it....who else's privates have been in those shorts without the benefit of underwear? Jesus! Oh God! Now I'm really scared. What if I get some disease or critter??? I need to talk to them on Monday. Dammit. Shit. Deep breath...okay.
So, my xrays were great. I evidently stripped to the precise degree and now probably have a zoo in my crotch. DAMMIT!
Summary: Horrible back pain that was on it's way to having my vertebrae fusing together...almost entirely gone. Drugs used: none. Needles used: none. Massage and trigger points massaged and triggered, many. Blissful. Skulls put in a machine and pulled up and away from the spine: one. chiropractors work. I couldn't be upright for more than a few minutes before that visit. I skipped my spinal block shot yesterday. I don't have to lay flat on my back with a heating pad now. I do have to take it easy until everything is finished healing, though. Today, the left side (the side I have almost all my problems on) of my face was sore. Like I'd been punched. Weird. Very strange. I speculated that the chiropractor moved bones or something. It's sore like it's healing or something. From right above my left eye, down my left temple, and under the left eye. I've heard that the skull bones can be manipulated because they are fused together not terribly tightly, to allow for movement...I don't know how true that it, but I find it interesting. If you know, let me know.
Currently Reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Some Girls: My Life in a Harem by Jillian Lauren
Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
Secrets of the Zohar by Michael Berg
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Ow
PEOPLE! Seriously!!! How am supposed to get an ESSAY from 1370 words to at LEAST 2000 words without saying crap that shouldn't be there? Ugh! I'm not going to marvel at a sunset or the beach or some crap because it doesn't belong in the essay!!!! I have already messed with it so much I want to barf. And I am the ultimate "REWRITER", too. I will edit and cut and add and redo and change words, and make sure everything is PERFECT, but I will NOT add shit for the sake of adding words for a word count!
Well, not today. Maybe tomorrow. But crap, come on, people!
What I'm obsessed with now:
Real Housewives of New Jersey
Bethenny Frankel
Jen Lancaster's books
Sloane Crosley's books
Getting pain relief for my stupid neck and shoulder
Missing my boys
Texting with my boys
dreading the beginning of the new school year...I'll miss my down time
pain relief
Well, not today. Maybe tomorrow. But crap, come on, people!
What I'm obsessed with now:
Real Housewives of New Jersey
Bethenny Frankel
Jen Lancaster's books
Sloane Crosley's books
Getting pain relief for my stupid neck and shoulder
Missing my boys
Texting with my boys
dreading the beginning of the new school year...I'll miss my down time
pain relief
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Langston Hughes was the shit.
Let America Be America Again
by Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
by Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
Monday, July 12, 2010
IKEA
Wow, how many hours can one person stay in IKEA? Seriously? Since when do I need so much CRAP? We did get some stuff for Kira's dorm, and we picked out Tyler's furniture, but will wait for him to get back to buy it, plus we need to paint his cave. But, Wally totally focused on buying MORE stuff for Kira's dorm. Okay, we have only so much space in a dorm room. He wants it all to match, and we have bought all nice things, and with the exception of the small fridge and flat screen tv she is getting, she is ready. He kept bringing throw pillows and shit. She kept "putting them down BY ACCIDENT" and losing them. I got a wine rack. The two of them didn't realize a "duvet" cover required a "duvet" to go inside of it. I could drop a huge fortune in there, but then we saw a new Spec's Wine and Spirits. Guess what? They carry my favorite wine! Grape Creek Vineyards!!! Cabernet Blanc!!! They were out. Bitches. I bought other stuff. I was out of Kahlua and I got some Bailey's and butterscotch schnapps and perused their selection of stuff I've never heard of. I never knew they made so many different flavored vodkas, and other stuff. And please? TEQUILA CREME???? GAG.
Shrink is as usual amused with my life, and I am on a crapload of medicine, as usual so that I don't do illegal or immoral things. Ugh. Later, taters.
Shrink is as usual amused with my life, and I am on a crapload of medicine, as usual so that I don't do illegal or immoral things. Ugh. Later, taters.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Hey
I am going to be adding tons more to this. I have literally hundreds of entries that I'm working on editing and moving over. One, Wally and I just laughed ourselves sick over. Stay tuned!
Saturday, July 10, 2010
September 2, 2007
September 02, 2007
ETA: After writing this, I purchased probably over 100 of the oil companies products. They are to die for. Not even kidding here.
So, like I've said, I'm a makeup whore. I love junk you buy for your skin and makeup and stuff. Anyhow, I come across a lot of bizarre stuff as a result of my perusal of sites that are makeup/skincare related. I found one today that I really am quite puzzled by. I am not sure if I'm amazed that anyone really swallows this line of bullshit, or if I'm bowled over by intense admiration that anyone would have the cojones to actually attempt and be successful at selling this load of crap. I'm in a quandry, if you will.
However, people ARE buying this crap, and they are paying a pretty penny for it. Not as much as they are paying for La Mer, but still....a...pretty...penny. It's a place that mixes up scents. And bottles them. And gives them spooky gothic names and then gives them the most RIDICULOUS descriptions you've ever seen in your life and sells them to.....to....who? I don't know. I guess kids who are into the Goth scene and who have a lot of extra cash and who want to smell like:
(From the website):
"SHADWELL
Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have all his own teeth, but only because no-one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.
He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, while he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner's Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.
Roll-ups, mildewed raincoat, sweet tea, and condensed milk. "
So....if you wear this particular scent, you smell like handrolled cigarettes, a mildewed raincoat, sweet tea and condensed milk. Isn't that appealing?
Now...I love perfume...GOOD perfume. Actually, the only perfume I've been able to wear and not get a migraine is Hermes Rouge and Hermes Terre (which is a men's scent, but I still wear it because I don't care and it's to die for and you just want to eat it.)
And PEOPLE...SPRAY AND WALK AWAY. Easy. Spritz a tiny bit into the air, walk through the spritz and you are DONE. Don't spray yourself. For the love of God, don't do that to the rest of the people you'll come into contact with for the rest of the day. I guarantee you, you'll cause several to get blinding migraines if you do.
I can also use 100% natural essential oil, neat. But really only Lavender. My sniffer is so sensitive I can smell people come in a movie theater and tell you what fragrance they are wearing and where they are sitting and I'll have to leave to vomit. No lie. And cleaning products are almost worse. If anyone comes within a 5 mile radius of me wearing any Christian Dior Poison incarnation I pass out, and I'm convinced Giorgio is a Satanic plot. Plus, if you like the Poison crap, buy that Glade Potpourri air freshener. It's the same freakin' thing and loads cheaper. Spray the crap out of yourself with it. Live it up.
The only men's fragrance I can stomach (besides the obvious Hermes Terre) is Grey Flannel. It's driven me to lick men's necks. It's irresistible. I also have my own bottle of that. I am convinced it's an aphrodisiac. I think it's the only thing I've ever encountered that is an ACTUAL aphrodisiac, except for Mexican beer in Mexico and then you just have WAY too much and end up either asleep or throwing up or with a migraine. So...yeah. I have no idea how this has turned into a window into my sexual proclivities. I had no idea I HAD any sexual proclivities. But ANYhow...back to that crazy-assed perfume site...
It is huge..it has tons of blends of oils. Some sound interesting, and they have obviously worked quite hard...but who the HELL would want this????
"ROADHOUSE
Truck stop sleaze. Weedy dandelion and hops with a whiff of tobacco and hemp and a swirl of booziness.
.purchase 5ml.
.view cart / check out."
Oh, yes...please! I want to smell like a "truck stop sleaze"! Like Dandelions and beer and tobacco and pot and booze. AWESOME! I am going to get some of that for my daughter. That is what I'm going to do.
Anyhow, here is the website if you wanna check it out for yourself. Some of the stuff...like "Rose Cross" sounds good...but most of it....I dunno.
http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/welcome.html
Currently listening:
The Best Of The Doors
By The Doors
Release date: 08 August, 2006
ETA: After writing this, I purchased probably over 100 of the oil companies products. They are to die for. Not even kidding here.
So, like I've said, I'm a makeup whore. I love junk you buy for your skin and makeup and stuff. Anyhow, I come across a lot of bizarre stuff as a result of my perusal of sites that are makeup/skincare related. I found one today that I really am quite puzzled by. I am not sure if I'm amazed that anyone really swallows this line of bullshit, or if I'm bowled over by intense admiration that anyone would have the cojones to actually attempt and be successful at selling this load of crap. I'm in a quandry, if you will.
However, people ARE buying this crap, and they are paying a pretty penny for it. Not as much as they are paying for La Mer, but still....a...pretty...penny. It's a place that mixes up scents. And bottles them. And gives them spooky gothic names and then gives them the most RIDICULOUS descriptions you've ever seen in your life and sells them to.....to....who? I don't know. I guess kids who are into the Goth scene and who have a lot of extra cash and who want to smell like:
(From the website):
"SHADWELL
Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have all his own teeth, but only because no-one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.
He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, while he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner's Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.
Roll-ups, mildewed raincoat, sweet tea, and condensed milk. "
So....if you wear this particular scent, you smell like handrolled cigarettes, a mildewed raincoat, sweet tea and condensed milk. Isn't that appealing?
Now...I love perfume...GOOD perfume. Actually, the only perfume I've been able to wear and not get a migraine is Hermes Rouge and Hermes Terre (which is a men's scent, but I still wear it because I don't care and it's to die for and you just want to eat it.)
And PEOPLE...SPRAY AND WALK AWAY. Easy. Spritz a tiny bit into the air, walk through the spritz and you are DONE. Don't spray yourself. For the love of God, don't do that to the rest of the people you'll come into contact with for the rest of the day. I guarantee you, you'll cause several to get blinding migraines if you do.
I can also use 100% natural essential oil, neat. But really only Lavender. My sniffer is so sensitive I can smell people come in a movie theater and tell you what fragrance they are wearing and where they are sitting and I'll have to leave to vomit. No lie. And cleaning products are almost worse. If anyone comes within a 5 mile radius of me wearing any Christian Dior Poison incarnation I pass out, and I'm convinced Giorgio is a Satanic plot. Plus, if you like the Poison crap, buy that Glade Potpourri air freshener. It's the same freakin' thing and loads cheaper. Spray the crap out of yourself with it. Live it up.
The only men's fragrance I can stomach (besides the obvious Hermes Terre) is Grey Flannel. It's driven me to lick men's necks. It's irresistible. I also have my own bottle of that. I am convinced it's an aphrodisiac. I think it's the only thing I've ever encountered that is an ACTUAL aphrodisiac, except for Mexican beer in Mexico and then you just have WAY too much and end up either asleep or throwing up or with a migraine. So...yeah. I have no idea how this has turned into a window into my sexual proclivities. I had no idea I HAD any sexual proclivities. But ANYhow...back to that crazy-assed perfume site...
It is huge..it has tons of blends of oils. Some sound interesting, and they have obviously worked quite hard...but who the HELL would want this????
"ROADHOUSE
Truck stop sleaze. Weedy dandelion and hops with a whiff of tobacco and hemp and a swirl of booziness.
.purchase 5ml.
.view cart / check out."
Oh, yes...please! I want to smell like a "truck stop sleaze"! Like Dandelions and beer and tobacco and pot and booze. AWESOME! I am going to get some of that for my daughter. That is what I'm going to do.
Anyhow, here is the website if you wanna check it out for yourself. Some of the stuff...like "Rose Cross" sounds good...but most of it....I dunno.
http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/welcome.html
Currently listening:
The Best Of The Doors
By The Doors
Release date: 08 August, 2006
August 26, 2007
August 26, 2007
Otters
Okay, so awhile back I said "Remind me to tell you about Sanford and the Otters...". But of course since nobody reads this, and it's basically my private diary of obsessive/compulsive thoughts and stream of concisousness....nobody reminded me.
But here is the Sanford/Otter story. We were in a family group therapy session for one of our kids. (separation issues) and the therapist was asking us to all pick a mammal we would be other than a human if we could be any other mammal. Well, I picked an Otter. I love Otters. It just flew out of my mouth before I really had a chance to think, really. But sometimes I think that gives the most honest answer. She asked why....why an Otter? And I said because they are relaxed and playful and seem to just do nothing but swim around and float on their back and eat shellfish. Seems like a good life to me. No responsibilities....nobody expects much of them...nobody yelling at them...just water and food and sleep and play. And they are cute! So....later on...Sanford asked me about it...and I was telling him how much I liked Otters. (I sound totally mentally defiicient right now, I know...but suck it.) And then it occurred to me....Otters live in cold water, yes? Well...that fucks that all up. I do not like to be cold. I LOVE the ocean. The beach...the water. The sand, the sun...but I'm not a cold person. I'm a beach person, but not a cold wet person. Couldn't handle that. It made me uncomfortable and agitated just THINKING about living in cold river water and hanging out on cold wet rocks and getting frozen fish to eat and shit. So, I said, "Well...then an otter that lives in the ocean..."
And then it happened. Sanford did what he does...he began spouting forth FACTS about Otters. I mean..weird assed little known facts about them that most people would never know unless they were ...you know....OTTER KEEPERS at an Aquarium or Zoo or something.
Me: Wait...Otters live where it's cold...huh? Oh...no...I don't like that....
Sanford...Well, actually Otters have a protective layer of fur and blubber much like a whale and therefore...blah blah blah blah blah blah blah ...
Me: What?
Sanford: Well, otters are a mammal that blah blah blah blah blah .....
Me: stunned silence.
Sanford: Still blah blah blahing about otters.
Me: Where did you learn all this stuff about Otters for christ's sake?
Sanford: Huh? Oh, I suppose I saw it on a nature program or read it... and as I was saying, their diets are rich in ..blah blah blahblahblah predatoryblahblabblahblabhlbahblabhalbhablahlalllAAAARRGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!!!
WTF? You can name ANY subject....with the exception of popular culture and he will just sit and babble on and on about it.
Me: Do you think Jesus ever had an Otter?
Sanford: What? Jesus? Otters?
Me: Yeah. You know everything about Jesus. And evidently EVERYTHING about fucking Otters, too....did he like Otters?
Sanford: What are you talking about? Otters aren't in the Middle East....
Me: Prove it.
Sanford: What?
Me: Maybe Buddha liked Otters. What about that? Did he?
Sanford: Huh?
Me: Joseph Smith? He might have married one.
Sanford:.......
Me: Mohammed? What were his views on Otters?
Sanford: I don't..
Me: Shut up. You need a hobby or a job. I forbid you to be retired anymore.
I will have you know that RIGHT NOW he is on YouTube watching Mormon crap!
Otters
Okay, so awhile back I said "Remind me to tell you about Sanford and the Otters...". But of course since nobody reads this, and it's basically my private diary of obsessive/compulsive thoughts and stream of concisousness....nobody reminded me.
But here is the Sanford/Otter story. We were in a family group therapy session for one of our kids. (separation issues) and the therapist was asking us to all pick a mammal we would be other than a human if we could be any other mammal. Well, I picked an Otter. I love Otters. It just flew out of my mouth before I really had a chance to think, really. But sometimes I think that gives the most honest answer. She asked why....why an Otter? And I said because they are relaxed and playful and seem to just do nothing but swim around and float on their back and eat shellfish. Seems like a good life to me. No responsibilities....nobody expects much of them...nobody yelling at them...just water and food and sleep and play. And they are cute! So....later on...Sanford asked me about it...and I was telling him how much I liked Otters. (I sound totally mentally defiicient right now, I know...but suck it.) And then it occurred to me....Otters live in cold water, yes? Well...that fucks that all up. I do not like to be cold. I LOVE the ocean. The beach...the water. The sand, the sun...but I'm not a cold person. I'm a beach person, but not a cold wet person. Couldn't handle that. It made me uncomfortable and agitated just THINKING about living in cold river water and hanging out on cold wet rocks and getting frozen fish to eat and shit. So, I said, "Well...then an otter that lives in the ocean..."
And then it happened. Sanford did what he does...he began spouting forth FACTS about Otters. I mean..weird assed little known facts about them that most people would never know unless they were ...you know....OTTER KEEPERS at an Aquarium or Zoo or something.
Me: Wait...Otters live where it's cold...huh? Oh...no...I don't like that....
Sanford...Well, actually Otters have a protective layer of fur and blubber much like a whale and therefore...blah blah blah blah blah blah blah ...
Me: What?
Sanford: Well, otters are a mammal that blah blah blah blah blah .....
Me: stunned silence.
Sanford: Still blah blah blahing about otters.
Me: Where did you learn all this stuff about Otters for christ's sake?
Sanford: Huh? Oh, I suppose I saw it on a nature program or read it... and as I was saying, their diets are rich in ..blah blah blahblahblah predatoryblahblabblahblabhlbahblabhalbhablahlalllAAAARRGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!!!
WTF? You can name ANY subject....with the exception of popular culture and he will just sit and babble on and on about it.
Me: Do you think Jesus ever had an Otter?
Sanford: What? Jesus? Otters?
Me: Yeah. You know everything about Jesus. And evidently EVERYTHING about fucking Otters, too....did he like Otters?
Sanford: What are you talking about? Otters aren't in the Middle East....
Me: Prove it.
Sanford: What?
Me: Maybe Buddha liked Otters. What about that? Did he?
Sanford: Huh?
Me: Joseph Smith? He might have married one.
Sanford:.......
Me: Mohammed? What were his views on Otters?
Sanford: I don't..
Me: Shut up. You need a hobby or a job. I forbid you to be retired anymore.
I will have you know that RIGHT NOW he is on YouTube watching Mormon crap!
August 21, 2007
August 21, 2007
Ooohhh La La!
So, I like fashion and makeup and skin care and SHOES and BAGS and SHOES and MAKEUP and BAGS and SHOES and stuff, right? But I don't consider myself to be someone capable of giving anyone a makeover or anything. I think I have good taste and that I'm capable of cleaning myself up to a degree that I can be taken out occasionally. I've been told that I have (AND I FREAKIN' QUOTE) "Exquisite" taste, and also that I am (and if you know me at ALL you'll pee yourself laughing at this one...) I am "elegant". *snort* So. Basically, I KNOW what I'm supposed to do, and what is what..but I also couldn't care less most of the time. Right? Ok.
For instance...today's high fashion ensemble consisted of...lemme think..OH YEAH...we had a day where we could be crappy dressed because we were working in our rooms...so I wore pink Chuck Taylors that are pretty flippin' old, denim capri jeans, a black top that was once a Japanese kimono so it has these awesome crazy sleeves you could hide a family of 12 in, and oh...my socks were "way too obvious and thick" according to my daughter. Basically...that's me. And my boss told me never to wear that shirt to work for real because it falls off my shoulder....you know...a la' "Flashdance". It doesn't fall off on purpose....but I wear one of those bandeau bras or no bra because..hey...I can. Evidently people thought it was a "look". No...it was available and clean and they were taking our pictures today but only from the shoulders up. Face and hair were presentable. Or as good as they get, anyhow.
What this is leading up to is this: I don't give a rip about fashion unless it's something in particular I fixate on......like BAGS or SHOES..or SHAWLS AND SCARVES. When it comes to men's clothing...hell....put it on Josh Bernstein or Clive Owen and that'll do.
HOWEVER....whilst(very English, no?) in England, my daughter and I noticed a fashion trend amongst European males. Please GOD...do not let it catch on in the US.
PLEASE. GOD. DO. NOT. LET. AMERICAN. MALES. START. WEARING. TIGHT.CAPRI. PANTS.
There. I said it. I don't care what anyone thinks. A dude wearing capri pants at ALL is creepy. Bermuda shorts....worn CORRECTLY...totally hot. CAPRI PANTS...VERY ICK. People, the dudes in Europe were wearing the HELL out of Capri pants. And it's not pretty. Or handsome. Or fetching. Or anything good or appealing. Here's why:
1. It shows your spindly, hairy legs. Not good.
2. It shows your spindly hairLESS legs. You are a dude. You should have hairy legs.
3. It shows your package. Please. Ugh. Just......please.
4. Refer to 3.
5. You.Are.A.Male. No Capri Pants for you. Wear shorts or real pants. Trousers...whatever you call them where you live. Capri pants are above your ankle, and form fitting...they aren't cargo shorts...you can't carry your ...well your anything in your Capri pants. Hell...WEAR JEANS, PLEASE. Jesus, Mary and Joseph Schwartz on a Pogo stick, people!
Yes, I know where Capri is. I don't care what the effin' pants are named after. On men, they are "Fugly" pants.
Goodnight.
And OHMYGOD, don't get me started on SPEEDOS!!!!!! WEAR SWIM TRUNKS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Also, if you look like you have a black bathmat on your back.......wear a tshirt whilst enjoying the pleasures of the beach or pool. Be considerate of your fellow HUMAN BEINGS!
ok. i'm finished. for now.
Ooohhh La La!
So, I like fashion and makeup and skin care and SHOES and BAGS and SHOES and MAKEUP and BAGS and SHOES and stuff, right? But I don't consider myself to be someone capable of giving anyone a makeover or anything. I think I have good taste and that I'm capable of cleaning myself up to a degree that I can be taken out occasionally. I've been told that I have (AND I FREAKIN' QUOTE) "Exquisite" taste, and also that I am (and if you know me at ALL you'll pee yourself laughing at this one...) I am "elegant". *snort* So. Basically, I KNOW what I'm supposed to do, and what is what..but I also couldn't care less most of the time. Right? Ok.
For instance...today's high fashion ensemble consisted of...lemme think..OH YEAH...we had a day where we could be crappy dressed because we were working in our rooms...so I wore pink Chuck Taylors that are pretty flippin' old, denim capri jeans, a black top that was once a Japanese kimono so it has these awesome crazy sleeves you could hide a family of 12 in, and oh...my socks were "way too obvious and thick" according to my daughter. Basically...that's me. And my boss told me never to wear that shirt to work for real because it falls off my shoulder....you know...a la' "Flashdance". It doesn't fall off on purpose....but I wear one of those bandeau bras or no bra because..hey...I can. Evidently people thought it was a "look". No...it was available and clean and they were taking our pictures today but only from the shoulders up. Face and hair were presentable. Or as good as they get, anyhow.
What this is leading up to is this: I don't give a rip about fashion unless it's something in particular I fixate on......like BAGS or SHOES..or SHAWLS AND SCARVES. When it comes to men's clothing...hell....put it on Josh Bernstein or Clive Owen and that'll do.
HOWEVER....whilst(very English, no?) in England, my daughter and I noticed a fashion trend amongst European males. Please GOD...do not let it catch on in the US.
PLEASE. GOD. DO. NOT. LET. AMERICAN. MALES. START. WEARING. TIGHT.CAPRI. PANTS.
There. I said it. I don't care what anyone thinks. A dude wearing capri pants at ALL is creepy. Bermuda shorts....worn CORRECTLY...totally hot. CAPRI PANTS...VERY ICK. People, the dudes in Europe were wearing the HELL out of Capri pants. And it's not pretty. Or handsome. Or fetching. Or anything good or appealing. Here's why:
1. It shows your spindly, hairy legs. Not good.
2. It shows your spindly hairLESS legs. You are a dude. You should have hairy legs.
3. It shows your package. Please. Ugh. Just......please.
4. Refer to 3.
5. You.Are.A.Male. No Capri Pants for you. Wear shorts or real pants. Trousers...whatever you call them where you live. Capri pants are above your ankle, and form fitting...they aren't cargo shorts...you can't carry your ...well your anything in your Capri pants. Hell...WEAR JEANS, PLEASE. Jesus, Mary and Joseph Schwartz on a Pogo stick, people!
Yes, I know where Capri is. I don't care what the effin' pants are named after. On men, they are "Fugly" pants.
Goodnight.
And OHMYGOD, don't get me started on SPEEDOS!!!!!! WEAR SWIM TRUNKS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Also, if you look like you have a black bathmat on your back.......wear a tshirt whilst enjoying the pleasures of the beach or pool. Be considerate of your fellow HUMAN BEINGS!
ok. i'm finished. for now.
August 12, 2007
August 12, 2007
So. They are back. Evidently, the memo has expired. The Mormons have come back to my house. Now, no offense to Mormons, but I don't want ANYONE coming to my home to sell me anything, including religion. For a long time, the Mormons left us alone. See, wayyyyy back in the day, before I knew Sanford...he attended the Mormon...church...whatever because he was dating some Mormon chick. Anyhow, once they have your name....that's it. Once we married, they kept coming to the door. Well, they didn't know Sanford had married a bonafide Jewess. So, at first I was nice. (ish). I'd tell them we weren't interested. Go away. Please leave. See the "No soliciting" sign? That means you, pink cheeks. Finally, one day...when my youngest child was about 4....they showed up. I answered the door...two very young men were standing there in their short sleeved white shirts, holding their bike helmets. I'm sure I rolled my eyes. I opened the door and one said, "Good morning! Is________home?" and I said, "Nope. And I'm a Jew." As I got ready to shut the door, one of them said, "Well, is there anything we can do for you today?" and so I said, "Sure. You could mow the lawn or vacuum...how's that sound?"
I was met with blank stares. They actually said, "No, that's okay....bye." and left. Yay!
But they returned. Sanford was home. I was not. The thing about Sanford is...he'll invite ANYBODY in. Seriously. He doesn't care what time it is...what state of undress anyone is in....come one, come ALL!!!! And he wants to talk about JESUS! Not because he's a Christian, but because he is curious. He is one of those people who is searching...he would probably be happiest digging around in ancient tombs somewhere. He loves to debate...he loves to discuss and argue.....Faith is not something he is prepared to accept. He wants PROOF. And if you say you believe something, he wants you to really get into it and discuss it with him, and believe me...he has discussed it with some of the most respected minds from almost all religions in the world.....he THRIVES on it. However, most people don't go for that, you know? Don't go tell a sweet old Catholic man that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married....he doesn't wanna think about that...he doesn't wanna hear any of your so-called proof....just leave him alone!
So...anyhow....Sanford LOVES that shit......and one time, the Mormons came when I wasn't here. And Sanford brought them into the house and put them through their paces. He knows EVERYTHING about Joseph Smith and all that jazz. When I got home, he was in our backyard with them. I walked into the kitchen, and I was on my cell phone talking to my Mom, and I gasped..."Huuuuhhhhhh! There are Mormons in my backyard, Mom! What do I do?" and she said, "Call the POLICE!" and then I saw Sanford talking to them. So, I knew they were invited. He was showing them the Maypole and the standing stones he erected for when he practices Earth religions. Our whole backyard is EXTREMELY symbolic. It's just shitting symbolism. Which is cool. I've worked hard on the the gardens, and Sanford puts up signs and plaques and we put in fountains and ponds and fire pits and it's pretty awesome. We were married there. Anyhow, after he got hold of the Mormons and wouldn't let them leave...they never came back! SCORE! Until a few days ago. Someone knocked on our door...and Sanford went to answer it, because I don't answer doors or phones. But he never came back. So, I went and looked, and my daughter and the youngest boy were with me, and I actually accidently shrieked out : "MORMONS!" and my son said, "There's morons out there?" and my daughter said, "Well, yeah, but that's not what she said....why is Dad talking to Mormons?"
And I had to go sit down and calm down because I was pissed. So, I told the kids about their Dad's previous foray into Mormonism. My son said, "Where's my kippah? I 'll wear it outside and they'll go away!" I told him his kippah is not a costume to be worn to scare people. Little fart. So then, we decided the best course of action was for me to go offer the boys a beer. Hell, a coke or coffee would be as bad, probably. Anyhow, I used going to get the mail as my excuse, but when I flung the front door open, the two fresh-faced Mormon boys jumped ten feet in the air and Sanford did, too. I walked out, stood in the middle of them and said,
"Do these dudes know I'm a Jew and our kids are Jews?" and then I looked at the Mormon kids and their mouths were open and one of them ACTUALLY SAID: and I shit you not...."EWWWWW she's a JEW?" and I said, "Yup. Shalom" and Sanford started shifting from foot to foot and he said, "um, no....I was telling them about....." and I stalked off to the mailbox. As I stalked back up the walk, I said, "If you don't come back into the house VERY SOON, I'll come out wailing the Shema."
And I went back in. Well, he was out there another 5 or so minutes. You'd think when people see a mezuzah on a door frame...they'd at least WONDER what it was....and not freakin' TRY TO CONVERT THE JEWS INSIDE. So, while we were in the house waiting so I could rip Sanford a new one, my son said, "So, Mom....what is it called when they try to drown you?" And it took me a minute but I said, "You mean getting baptised?" and he said, "Is that when you get in water?" and I said, "Yeah..I think you can just get it sprinkled on your head, though...I'm not sure. I don't know....you're not Baptised, neither is your sister or brother..." and then he said...
"Puh! I KNOW! I EAT MEAT!" My daughter and I just stared at him a minute. Then we said, "What?" He said, "I know I'm not baptised...I eat meat! I'm a carnivore! Jeez!!!!!"
So, we had to figure out what the HELL he was talking about. He somehow had baptism and vegetarianism mixed up in his mind. Then you throw Kosher in there, and he was WAY mixed up.
Which reminds me of something else he said. We were talking about the merits of his sibling's middle school vs. the middle school he'll be attending. Their middle school required uniforms. His does not. As parents we liked the uniforms. The kids hated the uniforms. We were talking about this...and my youngest son's opinion of uniforms was this..."They are stupid! Everyone looks alike!"
He is my happy child. Thank God. He also decided a few years ago that Sanford was African American. (He isn't. Although his skin is quite "swarthy" as my mother says...) My son went around telling everyone his Dad is African American. Why? Because it was February. My son was in Kindergarten and it was African American history month. He wanted to be part of the celebration. He.is.one.of.a.kind. Sanford is causasian and part of his mother's family was from Portugal wayyyyyyyy back a long time ago. His skin is just sort of always tanned looking.....some people think he is Hawaiian or Samoan...but he isn't. He is 100% crazy, though.
And me and my kids have not been baptised. We eat meat. Oh! And I went to a Baptist University! I'm a freakin' UN.
So. They are back. Evidently, the memo has expired. The Mormons have come back to my house. Now, no offense to Mormons, but I don't want ANYONE coming to my home to sell me anything, including religion. For a long time, the Mormons left us alone. See, wayyyyy back in the day, before I knew Sanford...he attended the Mormon...church...whatever because he was dating some Mormon chick. Anyhow, once they have your name....that's it. Once we married, they kept coming to the door. Well, they didn't know Sanford had married a bonafide Jewess. So, at first I was nice. (ish). I'd tell them we weren't interested. Go away. Please leave. See the "No soliciting" sign? That means you, pink cheeks. Finally, one day...when my youngest child was about 4....they showed up. I answered the door...two very young men were standing there in their short sleeved white shirts, holding their bike helmets. I'm sure I rolled my eyes. I opened the door and one said, "Good morning! Is________home?" and I said, "Nope. And I'm a Jew." As I got ready to shut the door, one of them said, "Well, is there anything we can do for you today?" and so I said, "Sure. You could mow the lawn or vacuum...how's that sound?"
I was met with blank stares. They actually said, "No, that's okay....bye." and left. Yay!
But they returned. Sanford was home. I was not. The thing about Sanford is...he'll invite ANYBODY in. Seriously. He doesn't care what time it is...what state of undress anyone is in....come one, come ALL!!!! And he wants to talk about JESUS! Not because he's a Christian, but because he is curious. He is one of those people who is searching...he would probably be happiest digging around in ancient tombs somewhere. He loves to debate...he loves to discuss and argue.....Faith is not something he is prepared to accept. He wants PROOF. And if you say you believe something, he wants you to really get into it and discuss it with him, and believe me...he has discussed it with some of the most respected minds from almost all religions in the world.....he THRIVES on it. However, most people don't go for that, you know? Don't go tell a sweet old Catholic man that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married....he doesn't wanna think about that...he doesn't wanna hear any of your so-called proof....just leave him alone!
So...anyhow....Sanford LOVES that shit......and one time, the Mormons came when I wasn't here. And Sanford brought them into the house and put them through their paces. He knows EVERYTHING about Joseph Smith and all that jazz. When I got home, he was in our backyard with them. I walked into the kitchen, and I was on my cell phone talking to my Mom, and I gasped..."Huuuuhhhhhh! There are Mormons in my backyard, Mom! What do I do?" and she said, "Call the POLICE!" and then I saw Sanford talking to them. So, I knew they were invited. He was showing them the Maypole and the standing stones he erected for when he practices Earth religions. Our whole backyard is EXTREMELY symbolic. It's just shitting symbolism. Which is cool. I've worked hard on the the gardens, and Sanford puts up signs and plaques and we put in fountains and ponds and fire pits and it's pretty awesome. We were married there. Anyhow, after he got hold of the Mormons and wouldn't let them leave...they never came back! SCORE! Until a few days ago. Someone knocked on our door...and Sanford went to answer it, because I don't answer doors or phones. But he never came back. So, I went and looked, and my daughter and the youngest boy were with me, and I actually accidently shrieked out : "MORMONS!" and my son said, "There's morons out there?" and my daughter said, "Well, yeah, but that's not what she said....why is Dad talking to Mormons?"
And I had to go sit down and calm down because I was pissed. So, I told the kids about their Dad's previous foray into Mormonism. My son said, "Where's my kippah? I 'll wear it outside and they'll go away!" I told him his kippah is not a costume to be worn to scare people. Little fart. So then, we decided the best course of action was for me to go offer the boys a beer. Hell, a coke or coffee would be as bad, probably. Anyhow, I used going to get the mail as my excuse, but when I flung the front door open, the two fresh-faced Mormon boys jumped ten feet in the air and Sanford did, too. I walked out, stood in the middle of them and said,
"Do these dudes know I'm a Jew and our kids are Jews?" and then I looked at the Mormon kids and their mouths were open and one of them ACTUALLY SAID: and I shit you not...."EWWWWW she's a JEW?" and I said, "Yup. Shalom" and Sanford started shifting from foot to foot and he said, "um, no....I was telling them about....." and I stalked off to the mailbox. As I stalked back up the walk, I said, "If you don't come back into the house VERY SOON, I'll come out wailing the Shema."
And I went back in. Well, he was out there another 5 or so minutes. You'd think when people see a mezuzah on a door frame...they'd at least WONDER what it was....and not freakin' TRY TO CONVERT THE JEWS INSIDE. So, while we were in the house waiting so I could rip Sanford a new one, my son said, "So, Mom....what is it called when they try to drown you?" And it took me a minute but I said, "You mean getting baptised?" and he said, "Is that when you get in water?" and I said, "Yeah..I think you can just get it sprinkled on your head, though...I'm not sure. I don't know....you're not Baptised, neither is your sister or brother..." and then he said...
"Puh! I KNOW! I EAT MEAT!" My daughter and I just stared at him a minute. Then we said, "What?" He said, "I know I'm not baptised...I eat meat! I'm a carnivore! Jeez!!!!!"
So, we had to figure out what the HELL he was talking about. He somehow had baptism and vegetarianism mixed up in his mind. Then you throw Kosher in there, and he was WAY mixed up.
Which reminds me of something else he said. We were talking about the merits of his sibling's middle school vs. the middle school he'll be attending. Their middle school required uniforms. His does not. As parents we liked the uniforms. The kids hated the uniforms. We were talking about this...and my youngest son's opinion of uniforms was this..."They are stupid! Everyone looks alike!"
He is my happy child. Thank God. He also decided a few years ago that Sanford was African American. (He isn't. Although his skin is quite "swarthy" as my mother says...) My son went around telling everyone his Dad is African American. Why? Because it was February. My son was in Kindergarten and it was African American history month. He wanted to be part of the celebration. He.is.one.of.a.kind. Sanford is causasian and part of his mother's family was from Portugal wayyyyyyyy back a long time ago. His skin is just sort of always tanned looking.....some people think he is Hawaiian or Samoan...but he isn't. He is 100% crazy, though.
And me and my kids have not been baptised. We eat meat. Oh! And I went to a Baptist University! I'm a freakin' UN.
August 9, 2007
August 09, 2007
Smart guys
So, I'm sorta back at work, now. Ayhow, me going back to work entails a lot of prep work. I have to do a lot of frou frou decorating and thinking and reflecting and planning, right? So... I was at this place my place of employment has that has supplies for us...it is chock full of nifty stuff people like me get really excited over...paper, laminating machines....die cuts....all sorts of stuff.
Anyhow, I was in there doing some stuff, and one of the people who works at that place comes up to me. She is really nice...but very chit chatty. Small talky. And as we all know...I don't like small-talk. So...I am pretty much just making polite noises, right? She is staring off into the distance yapping away. I am getting my work done, making noises like..."Yeahhhhhh....really? Woooowwwww....that's so true.....for sure.....uh huhhhhhh......mmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...no kidding......right?"
And then she goes..."Hey! What's that on your shirt?" and I almost freak out because I assumed something foreign and bad was on my shirt...so I jump and start tugging on my shirt and hopping around..."Whu? Where!?!?" and she grabs me...(no shit) by the boobs and goes..."hang on..." and so I get still, because when someone you barely knows grabs your boobs...you tend to sorta slow down because well...they are grabbing your tatas....
So, I was wearing a black tshirt with this glow in the dark image of Einstein on it..and it has some quote of his on it about dissolving into nature...right? I am a big fan of Einstein. I have an itty bitty bit of the hots for him. Even those pictures of him with his non-hairy old legs and strangely lady-like ankle strap high heel sandals with shorts on. Even then. Anyhow, I've read a lot about him and come to the conclusion that he was a bit of a misogynist...(my own opinion), but that's neither here nor there.
So, boob grabbing woman goes..."Oh...it's Einstein." only she is German and she says it with a "ssschhhh" sound in the middle...which makes me slightly uncomfortable for some reason. I say "Oh, yeah....it glows in the dark!" (Like an idiot would do....I holler "It glows in the dark!") And then she keeps staring at my shirt...... in silence. And I sorta start shuffling my feet. Because it's kind of unpleasant to have a person you don't know staring at your shirt. Intently. It's like she checked out while she was staring at my shirt and left her body standing there. And it's totally quiet.
But then....it happens. My moment of nirvana.....one of the delicious moments I live for. One of the moments that gives me a "catch phrase" that I use repeatedly for days, weeks...months....NAY...years to come.
She says.."Wow...he was a smart guy."
YES!!!!!!!!!! Oh, I almost dance a jig of joy. "He was a smart guy!"
What does one say to that? How does one respond?
I say: "Yeah. He was. Pretty smart."
And she sighs and turns away. All dejected.
She is sad. Einstein died. He was a smart guy. He died like...before she was BORN..but still.
Ahhhh...life.....'tis good.
Smart guys
So, I'm sorta back at work, now. Ayhow, me going back to work entails a lot of prep work. I have to do a lot of frou frou decorating and thinking and reflecting and planning, right? So... I was at this place my place of employment has that has supplies for us...it is chock full of nifty stuff people like me get really excited over...paper, laminating machines....die cuts....all sorts of stuff.
Anyhow, I was in there doing some stuff, and one of the people who works at that place comes up to me. She is really nice...but very chit chatty. Small talky. And as we all know...I don't like small-talk. So...I am pretty much just making polite noises, right? She is staring off into the distance yapping away. I am getting my work done, making noises like..."Yeahhhhhh....really? Woooowwwww....that's so true.....for sure.....uh huhhhhhh......mmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...no kidding......right?"
And then she goes..."Hey! What's that on your shirt?" and I almost freak out because I assumed something foreign and bad was on my shirt...so I jump and start tugging on my shirt and hopping around..."Whu? Where!?!?" and she grabs me...(no shit) by the boobs and goes..."hang on..." and so I get still, because when someone you barely knows grabs your boobs...you tend to sorta slow down because well...they are grabbing your tatas....
So, I was wearing a black tshirt with this glow in the dark image of Einstein on it..and it has some quote of his on it about dissolving into nature...right? I am a big fan of Einstein. I have an itty bitty bit of the hots for him. Even those pictures of him with his non-hairy old legs and strangely lady-like ankle strap high heel sandals with shorts on. Even then. Anyhow, I've read a lot about him and come to the conclusion that he was a bit of a misogynist...(my own opinion), but that's neither here nor there.
So, boob grabbing woman goes..."Oh...it's Einstein." only she is German and she says it with a "ssschhhh" sound in the middle...which makes me slightly uncomfortable for some reason. I say "Oh, yeah....it glows in the dark!" (Like an idiot would do....I holler "It glows in the dark!") And then she keeps staring at my shirt...... in silence. And I sorta start shuffling my feet. Because it's kind of unpleasant to have a person you don't know staring at your shirt. Intently. It's like she checked out while she was staring at my shirt and left her body standing there. And it's totally quiet.
But then....it happens. My moment of nirvana.....one of the delicious moments I live for. One of the moments that gives me a "catch phrase" that I use repeatedly for days, weeks...months....NAY...years to come.
She says.."Wow...he was a smart guy."
YES!!!!!!!!!! Oh, I almost dance a jig of joy. "He was a smart guy!"
What does one say to that? How does one respond?
I say: "Yeah. He was. Pretty smart."
And she sighs and turns away. All dejected.
She is sad. Einstein died. He was a smart guy. He died like...before she was BORN..but still.
Ahhhh...life.....'tis good.
August 3, 2007
August 03, 2007
Here Comes Bob!
So, today Sanford and I went to Ikea to get some stuff for my work. Anyhow, once you are in THAT place, it's like a maze. Like Harrod's was only with a Scandinavian feel. So, I find the PERFECT area rug I want, and damned if the Ikea near us doesn't have it. Dipshits. It looks like the labyrinth at Chartres in France. And one of the posters I put up every year is a picture of the Chartres labyrinth and it says "Start Where You Are"...and so...yeah. So...I got a big assed plain red area rug...it will be fine, but I really liked that other one. And I got some other crap I probably won't need, but seemed nifty.
Then...when I got home I went online to their site, and there is that labyrinth rug! Only guess what..you can't buy it online. You can only go buy it at their stores...so it says to check a location to see if they have it in stock. I check the location near me...no....they don't have it. No shit. So, I check .....ohhhhhh the next nearest one...which is Houston. Which is not close to me, but is in the same state. They don't have it. I check every Texas location. No Texas location has it. So we can just suck it.
So, Sanford goes: "Hey...check San Diego." I said, "Why?" He said, "I bet NOBODY HAS THAT FREAKIN' RUG." I thought: "He's probably RIGHT!" So, I started checking locations.....I finally found one...in Schaumburg, Illinois. Which pissed me RIGHT off.
So, then Sanford said, "Hey...so they should SEND the one in Illinois to OUR Ikea so we can go buy it. Right?"
Right. That makes sense. Yes? Yes. So, I start looking around for a way to request this service. I go to their online help lady. She is freaky as hell. Her name is "Anna". She was no goddamned help, I'll tell you that right now. She made inappropriate faces at me as I typed questions and ended up sending me to pages about how freakin' easy it is to assemble Ikea furniture. Great...thanks, Anna. Go back to suckin' on the Vodka, now. Sorry to have disturbed you. I click on "Customer Service", I get their effin' "FAQs" again. I click on "FAQs" I get the damned "FAQs". I actually DID read the "FAQs" and NO..none of them were my question. So, Sanford is sitting there telling me: "Click there..no there...ugh...not THERE...there!" and I finally told him, "You are exceptionally annoying right now..plus it smells like something is dead in your mouth...please go away before I get testy."
So, by the time I found the mother effin' phone number to the actual physical STORE...I decided that rug sucks ass and I do NOT want it anymore. Thank you, but no thank you Ikea and I don't care if I never see sleek, modular shelving that appears to be floating in the air or umlauts ever again.
BUT! There is a PLUS to all of this!!! Even thought I woke up and got dressed and left my bed for naught today.....and I was polite and did not harm anyone.....and it got me absolutely NOWHERE.....AND...AND...I did the effin' goddamned DRIVING!!!!!!!! Even though all of that .......
As we rounded one of the corners in our subdivision...I see this big panel van parked on the street....it was black. On the front on top in bright yellow letters...it said,
"HERE COMES BOB!" Since I was driving, I could sit at the stop sign and stare at that as long as I wanted to. There was nobody behind me or anything, so don't say.."But what about the people behind you?" Plus, they could have just sucked it, anyhow. But I was sitting there, and I see this van, and Sanford is sitting in the passenger seat and he is babbling on about some random crap...(remind me to tell you about the Otter stuff...) and so I interrupt and holler, "HERE COMES BOB!" and Sanford stops and looks and goes.."Oh yeah...THAT guy.....he lived near me YEARS ago...over on...blah blah blah blah blah....wah wah wah...."
and then I notice on the front bumper in bright yellow....Oh this is DELIGHTFUL, people.....simply SCRUMPTIOUS....
in bright yellow letters...on the front bumper under the grill...it says....."GLASS ON WHEELS". allow me to just sit here a moment and relive the joy.......
Sanford is still monotonously talking like the grownups in Charlie Brown cartoons...and I holler..."GLASS ON WHEELS! Are you kidding ME?!?!?! I am going to get some black paint! You said you know where Bob lives? Kick Ass! I am going to paint out the "G" and the "L" in the word "Glass"....oh yes! Sometimes God smiles on me! Times like this....can't you feel Him just enfolding us in His arms? He just gave us a little kiss on the head!" So...since I'm still sitting at the stop sign and planning on an evening of light vandalism...Sanford says..."You are NOT going to paint Bob's van!"
Me: What, he sells glass..huh? Glass on wheels! Not for long! He's gonna be ASS on wheels....hehehehheheh...
So, as we drive past Bob's van...Sanford is severely berating me...and telling me how he won't allow me to do that, and do I realize it's illegal and it would be not only vandalism but trespassing, blah blah and legal sounding crap....once a cop always a cop...whatEVer....he gave me the Texas Criminal code violations like he did when I showed our daughter how to make prank phone calls. SO no fun. So, he won't tell me where Bob LIVES. Evidently, Bob keeps his van at HOME. Because he caught me looking up glass companies in the phone book. I didn't get the name of Bob's company, but I can tell you that it isn't "Glass on Wheels". I checked.
Here Comes Bob!
So, today Sanford and I went to Ikea to get some stuff for my work. Anyhow, once you are in THAT place, it's like a maze. Like Harrod's was only with a Scandinavian feel. So, I find the PERFECT area rug I want, and damned if the Ikea near us doesn't have it. Dipshits. It looks like the labyrinth at Chartres in France. And one of the posters I put up every year is a picture of the Chartres labyrinth and it says "Start Where You Are"...and so...yeah. So...I got a big assed plain red area rug...it will be fine, but I really liked that other one. And I got some other crap I probably won't need, but seemed nifty.
Then...when I got home I went online to their site, and there is that labyrinth rug! Only guess what..you can't buy it online. You can only go buy it at their stores...so it says to check a location to see if they have it in stock. I check the location near me...no....they don't have it. No shit. So, I check .....ohhhhhh the next nearest one...which is Houston. Which is not close to me, but is in the same state. They don't have it. I check every Texas location. No Texas location has it. So we can just suck it.
So, Sanford goes: "Hey...check San Diego." I said, "Why?" He said, "I bet NOBODY HAS THAT FREAKIN' RUG." I thought: "He's probably RIGHT!" So, I started checking locations.....I finally found one...in Schaumburg, Illinois. Which pissed me RIGHT off.
So, then Sanford said, "Hey...so they should SEND the one in Illinois to OUR Ikea so we can go buy it. Right?"
Right. That makes sense. Yes? Yes. So, I start looking around for a way to request this service. I go to their online help lady. She is freaky as hell. Her name is "Anna". She was no goddamned help, I'll tell you that right now. She made inappropriate faces at me as I typed questions and ended up sending me to pages about how freakin' easy it is to assemble Ikea furniture. Great...thanks, Anna. Go back to suckin' on the Vodka, now. Sorry to have disturbed you. I click on "Customer Service", I get their effin' "FAQs" again. I click on "FAQs" I get the damned "FAQs". I actually DID read the "FAQs" and NO..none of them were my question. So, Sanford is sitting there telling me: "Click there..no there...ugh...not THERE...there!" and I finally told him, "You are exceptionally annoying right now..plus it smells like something is dead in your mouth...please go away before I get testy."
So, by the time I found the mother effin' phone number to the actual physical STORE...I decided that rug sucks ass and I do NOT want it anymore. Thank you, but no thank you Ikea and I don't care if I never see sleek, modular shelving that appears to be floating in the air or umlauts ever again.
BUT! There is a PLUS to all of this!!! Even thought I woke up and got dressed and left my bed for naught today.....and I was polite and did not harm anyone.....and it got me absolutely NOWHERE.....AND...AND...I did the effin' goddamned DRIVING!!!!!!!! Even though all of that .......
As we rounded one of the corners in our subdivision...I see this big panel van parked on the street....it was black. On the front on top in bright yellow letters...it said,
"HERE COMES BOB!" Since I was driving, I could sit at the stop sign and stare at that as long as I wanted to. There was nobody behind me or anything, so don't say.."But what about the people behind you?" Plus, they could have just sucked it, anyhow. But I was sitting there, and I see this van, and Sanford is sitting in the passenger seat and he is babbling on about some random crap...(remind me to tell you about the Otter stuff...) and so I interrupt and holler, "HERE COMES BOB!" and Sanford stops and looks and goes.."Oh yeah...THAT guy.....he lived near me YEARS ago...over on...blah blah blah blah blah....wah wah wah...."
and then I notice on the front bumper in bright yellow....Oh this is DELIGHTFUL, people.....simply SCRUMPTIOUS....
in bright yellow letters...on the front bumper under the grill...it says....."GLASS ON WHEELS". allow me to just sit here a moment and relive the joy.......
Sanford is still monotonously talking like the grownups in Charlie Brown cartoons...and I holler..."GLASS ON WHEELS! Are you kidding ME?!?!?! I am going to get some black paint! You said you know where Bob lives? Kick Ass! I am going to paint out the "G" and the "L" in the word "Glass"....oh yes! Sometimes God smiles on me! Times like this....can't you feel Him just enfolding us in His arms? He just gave us a little kiss on the head!" So...since I'm still sitting at the stop sign and planning on an evening of light vandalism...Sanford says..."You are NOT going to paint Bob's van!"
Me: What, he sells glass..huh? Glass on wheels! Not for long! He's gonna be ASS on wheels....hehehehheheh...
So, as we drive past Bob's van...Sanford is severely berating me...and telling me how he won't allow me to do that, and do I realize it's illegal and it would be not only vandalism but trespassing, blah blah and legal sounding crap....once a cop always a cop...whatEVer....he gave me the Texas Criminal code violations like he did when I showed our daughter how to make prank phone calls. SO no fun. So, he won't tell me where Bob LIVES. Evidently, Bob keeps his van at HOME. Because he caught me looking up glass companies in the phone book. I didn't get the name of Bob's company, but I can tell you that it isn't "Glass on Wheels". I checked.
July 31, 2007
July 31, 2007
America....Eff Yeah!
So, I've been thinking about contributions America has made to civilization in general. Here are a few...and feel free to add to the list:
1. Peace-keeping(well...pre Bush administration..)- we have..until recently...generally only fought wars of self-defense and the defense of liberty.
2. Religious tolerance-this is self-explanatory.
3. The development of manhood suffrage-again...it took awhile...but our country did it.
4. The welcoming of newcomers-there is a reason people are beating down our doors to get in..be it legally or illegally.
5. The diffusion of wellbeing-No other country has such a large, well-to-do MIDDLE class. Most other countries middle class is struggling quite a bit more than ours is.
6. The Polio vaccine.
7. The development of the penicillin vaccine.
8. The bailing out of the entire world in WWII. The blood of our soldiers. It if weren't for us, let's face it: England, France and the rest of Europe would be speaking German now.
9. The entertainment industry. The entire world depends on the United States for their entertainment trends, etc. This may seem frivolous, but it's true.
10. Computers
11. Television
12. Rock and Roll
13. And just in case that isn't enough..there is a song that sums it all up beautifully:
"America: Fuck YEAH!" by Trey Parker (FYI: ANY OFFENSIVE PARTS ARE NOT ENDORSED BY ME, EVEN IF I LAUGHED, I FELT GUILTY AND VOMITED AFTERWARDS..but seriously, Google this song and laugh your ass off.)
America...
America...
America, FUCK YEAH!
Coming again, to save the mother fucking day yeah,
America, FUCK YEAH!
Freedom is the only way yeah,
Terrorist your game is through cause now you have to answer too,
America, FUCK YEAH!
So lick my butt, and suck on my balls,
America, FUCK YEAH!
What you going to do when we come for you now,
it's the dream that we all share; it's the hope for tomorrow
FUCK YEAH!
McDonalds, FUCK YEAH!
Wal-Mart, FUCK YEAH!
The Gap, FUCK YEAH!
Baseball, FUCK YEAH!
NFL, FUCK, YEAH!
Rock and roll, FUCK YEAH!
The Internet, FUCK YEAH!
Slavery, FUCK YEAH!(see above where I said I didn't endorse)
FUCK YEAH!
Starbucks, FUCK YEAH!
Disney world, FUCK YEAH!
Porno, FUCK YEAH!
Valium, FUCK YEAH!
Reeboks, FUCK YEAH!
Fake Tits, FUCK YEAH!
Sushi, FUCK YEAH!
Taco Bell, FUCK YEAH!
Rodeos, FUCK YEAH!
Bed bath and beyond (Fuck yeah, Fuck yeah)
Liberty, FUCK YEAH!
White Slips, FUCK YEAH!
The Alamo, FUCK YEAH!
Band-aids, FUCK YEAH!
Las Vegas, FUCK YEAH!
Christmas, FUCK YEAH!
Immigrants, FUCK YEAH!
Popeye, FUCK YEAH!
Democrats, FUCK YEAH!
Republicans (republicans)
(fuck yeah, fuck yeah)this is almost a whisper..hehehh
Sportsmanship
Books
---------------------------------------------------------------------
You are welcome, World.
Love, America.
America....Eff Yeah!
So, I've been thinking about contributions America has made to civilization in general. Here are a few...and feel free to add to the list:
1. Peace-keeping(well...pre Bush administration..)- we have..until recently...generally only fought wars of self-defense and the defense of liberty.
2. Religious tolerance-this is self-explanatory.
3. The development of manhood suffrage-again...it took awhile...but our country did it.
4. The welcoming of newcomers-there is a reason people are beating down our doors to get in..be it legally or illegally.
5. The diffusion of wellbeing-No other country has such a large, well-to-do MIDDLE class. Most other countries middle class is struggling quite a bit more than ours is.
6. The Polio vaccine.
7. The development of the penicillin vaccine.
8. The bailing out of the entire world in WWII. The blood of our soldiers. It if weren't for us, let's face it: England, France and the rest of Europe would be speaking German now.
9. The entertainment industry. The entire world depends on the United States for their entertainment trends, etc. This may seem frivolous, but it's true.
10. Computers
11. Television
12. Rock and Roll
13. And just in case that isn't enough..there is a song that sums it all up beautifully:
"America: Fuck YEAH!" by Trey Parker (FYI: ANY OFFENSIVE PARTS ARE NOT ENDORSED BY ME, EVEN IF I LAUGHED, I FELT GUILTY AND VOMITED AFTERWARDS..but seriously, Google this song and laugh your ass off.)
America...
America...
America, FUCK YEAH!
Coming again, to save the mother fucking day yeah,
America, FUCK YEAH!
Freedom is the only way yeah,
Terrorist your game is through cause now you have to answer too,
America, FUCK YEAH!
So lick my butt, and suck on my balls,
America, FUCK YEAH!
What you going to do when we come for you now,
it's the dream that we all share; it's the hope for tomorrow
FUCK YEAH!
McDonalds, FUCK YEAH!
Wal-Mart, FUCK YEAH!
The Gap, FUCK YEAH!
Baseball, FUCK YEAH!
NFL, FUCK, YEAH!
Rock and roll, FUCK YEAH!
The Internet, FUCK YEAH!
Slavery, FUCK YEAH!(see above where I said I didn't endorse)
FUCK YEAH!
Starbucks, FUCK YEAH!
Disney world, FUCK YEAH!
Porno, FUCK YEAH!
Valium, FUCK YEAH!
Reeboks, FUCK YEAH!
Fake Tits, FUCK YEAH!
Sushi, FUCK YEAH!
Taco Bell, FUCK YEAH!
Rodeos, FUCK YEAH!
Bed bath and beyond (Fuck yeah, Fuck yeah)
Liberty, FUCK YEAH!
White Slips, FUCK YEAH!
The Alamo, FUCK YEAH!
Band-aids, FUCK YEAH!
Las Vegas, FUCK YEAH!
Christmas, FUCK YEAH!
Immigrants, FUCK YEAH!
Popeye, FUCK YEAH!
Democrats, FUCK YEAH!
Republicans (republicans)
(fuck yeah, fuck yeah)this is almost a whisper..hehehh
Sportsmanship
Books
---------------------------------------------------------------------
You are welcome, World.
Love, America.
July 31, 2007
July 31, 2007
I love me some protestin'!
So. Harrod's. Not so great. Right outside of Harrod's, though....big assed protest going on. Now in Paris, we got involved in a protest, and it was totally inadvertent. We thought it was a street festival. (shut up....you hear drumming, you see dirty students smiling and dancing....) Anyhow, in THAT protest, we got tear-gassed, yes, with our children. I didn't want a repeat of that, but let's face it...the cops in London don't really have much ability to do much. They can drive their itty bitty cars insanely fast through crowded intersections and maybe throw their billyclub at you...but other than that....if one told me to freeze....I'd run like hell. Because, it's gonna be a toss-up to see who is the fastest runner...no guns will be blazing.
Anyhow...so when we went into Harrod's there were a few people outside holding signs saying stuff about "Say NO to Fur!" and things like that. I pushed past them and we went inside. Whatever. Don't get in my way....when we were vomited back out onto the pavement a few hours later...the protest had grown quite a bit, and now it had people dressed up in animal costumes. There was a HUGE ASSED FOX who kept shoving pamphlets at me. I don't want a pamphlet. Ever. If I want your pamphlet, I'll come up to you and say, "Excuse me, may I have a pamphlet, please?" If you are dressed up in a costume, I will not speak to you or otherwise acknowledge you at all. Not even in Disneyworld. People in animal suits give me the heebie jeebies.
So, Mr. Fox-man kept shoving his pamphlets at me and I was saying "No thank you! No THANK YOU..NO THANK YOU!" and he was like THRUSTING them at me with his face just that never changing leering Fox face....and his arm kept jumping out at me with his Fox paw full of damned pamphlets.....I finally hollered: "I have a mink coat, OKAY?!??!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"
My Mom and daughter were behind me, and our destination was the tube stop near Harrod's. We were having difficulty getting there because of the Man/Fox. So, when I finally hollered at him...(and it was so loud out there that my yelling wasn't noticed...) he stepped aside and I started walking past him. There were people sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, all sorts of people dressed up like baby seals and ferrets and of course the fox and whatever else with fur they could think of...it was bizarre. So, I start to walk, and I SHIT YOU NOT...that freakin' assed dipshit fox tripped me. I don't know how, and I cannot prove it. But down I went. Fucking Fox. What an asshole.
So, I say "go on a Fox hunt". Buy fox fur coats. Find the jackass who was forcing his pamphlets on people outside Harrod's. Beat his ass. Or her ass. Whichever it may be. I was down on that filthy sidewalk outside that nightmare disco palace/department store surrounded by humans dressed as furry critters chanting about no fur.
The tear gas was WAY better.
Currently listening:
Weird Revolution
I love me some protestin'!
So. Harrod's. Not so great. Right outside of Harrod's, though....big assed protest going on. Now in Paris, we got involved in a protest, and it was totally inadvertent. We thought it was a street festival. (shut up....you hear drumming, you see dirty students smiling and dancing....) Anyhow, in THAT protest, we got tear-gassed, yes, with our children. I didn't want a repeat of that, but let's face it...the cops in London don't really have much ability to do much. They can drive their itty bitty cars insanely fast through crowded intersections and maybe throw their billyclub at you...but other than that....if one told me to freeze....I'd run like hell. Because, it's gonna be a toss-up to see who is the fastest runner...no guns will be blazing.
Anyhow...so when we went into Harrod's there were a few people outside holding signs saying stuff about "Say NO to Fur!" and things like that. I pushed past them and we went inside. Whatever. Don't get in my way....when we were vomited back out onto the pavement a few hours later...the protest had grown quite a bit, and now it had people dressed up in animal costumes. There was a HUGE ASSED FOX who kept shoving pamphlets at me. I don't want a pamphlet. Ever. If I want your pamphlet, I'll come up to you and say, "Excuse me, may I have a pamphlet, please?" If you are dressed up in a costume, I will not speak to you or otherwise acknowledge you at all. Not even in Disneyworld. People in animal suits give me the heebie jeebies.
So, Mr. Fox-man kept shoving his pamphlets at me and I was saying "No thank you! No THANK YOU..NO THANK YOU!" and he was like THRUSTING them at me with his face just that never changing leering Fox face....and his arm kept jumping out at me with his Fox paw full of damned pamphlets.....I finally hollered: "I have a mink coat, OKAY?!??!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"
My Mom and daughter were behind me, and our destination was the tube stop near Harrod's. We were having difficulty getting there because of the Man/Fox. So, when I finally hollered at him...(and it was so loud out there that my yelling wasn't noticed...) he stepped aside and I started walking past him. There were people sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, all sorts of people dressed up like baby seals and ferrets and of course the fox and whatever else with fur they could think of...it was bizarre. So, I start to walk, and I SHIT YOU NOT...that freakin' assed dipshit fox tripped me. I don't know how, and I cannot prove it. But down I went. Fucking Fox. What an asshole.
So, I say "go on a Fox hunt". Buy fox fur coats. Find the jackass who was forcing his pamphlets on people outside Harrod's. Beat his ass. Or her ass. Whichever it may be. I was down on that filthy sidewalk outside that nightmare disco palace/department store surrounded by humans dressed as furry critters chanting about no fur.
The tear gas was WAY better.
Currently listening:
Weird Revolution
July 30, 2007
July 30, 2007
A vague smell of poop.
So. Still jet-lagged. Punchy...giddy. Call it what you will, but I am effed up.
Let's see....what else can I tell about the trip from hell? "Why from hell?" you ask...
Well...1. We took my Mom, and I actually thought it could go smoothly, but what an idiot I am.
and
2. We took my Mom.
Other than that....everything is ten times more expensive than you think it will be, and there is a vague smell of poop everywhere. In Paris there was a vague smell of liverwurst everywhere...in London, there is a vague smell of poop underlying everything. Even under the smell of Indian cooking....poop. Not dog poop, not cat poop (now that I am thinking about it, I did not see ONE SINGLE CAT IN ENGLAND...spooky)..but HUMAN poop.
The Indian food is awesome. Truly. It's EVERYwhere..but it's really good. Since I inherited the "gift" of mimicry from my father, I ended up talking like whoever was around. Only louder, and I made everything sound dirty.
For example....we were on the Underground and one of the stops is "Clapham" something or another. I began talking to my Mom in a very loud Cockney or "Norf" London accent. Hell, I don't know where it was from...but half those people don't pronounce their "th"s. Anyhow, I was saying stuff like: "Fred came 'ome late the uv'er night, 'e did....'is pecker is right full of the Clapham....'e won't be tuchin' me anytime soon, 'aye can tell ye that..." Anyhow, it was something to amuse me and pass the time and it mortified my Mother but made her laugh, too. So...."Clapham". Don't catch the "Clapham". "Ohhhh it'll mortify ye, it will."
OH MY GOD. HARROD'S. What A NIGHTMARE! And people, I shop. But Harrod's is too, too horrid for words. It is ...well....if you've never been there....let me see if I can describe it to you....Harrod's is like a very large, multi-level disco in Mexico in the 80's. Only all the lights are ON. It is set up so that you get lost. And from what I could TELL, and I might be WRONG...I probably AM..but all I found was ONE entrance/exit. There were guards allowing people in and out. It was mass chaos. For such a big assed place, they were sorely lacking in restrooms...OH EXCUSE ME....LUXURY LADIES' WASHROOMS.. (whattheFUCKever)....The food halls were like very crowded, gaudily decorated grocery stores. In fact, all of it was gaudy. The Egyptian Room was enough to make you puke. Then there were "The Rooms of Luxury". I think they were actually the maze entrance so that you got good and goddamned lost. There were plasma screens lining the escalators and they were all tuned to "Al Jazheera" or however it's spelled. I thought my Mother would come unHINGED. It is so crowded that you are barely shuffling at times...much like a very crowded nightclub in the 80s. The music is so loud you cannot think. Very much like a nightclub. The overpowering odors from the perfume departments is everywhere. We did have tea in one of the bazillion restaurants inside Harrod's, though. We had to sit the hell down and breathe. Tea with scones/jam and cream was over 100 bucks.
If fire ever breaks out in that place, it's going to be carnage the likes of which we've not seen in a very long while. And Agent Provocateur and La Perla will lose millions of pounds worth of bras and thongs that nobody is buying. Everyone is TOUCHING them to see what an 800 GBP bra feels like..but nobody is buying it.
Oh, I spotted some celebrities. Remember Denise Austin? The exercise guru chick? She totally cut in front of me in line at the Tower of London. I was about to throw down with her then I realized who she was and I said "Are you Denise Austin?" and she sort of furtively looked around and said "Well...yes..." and I said, "Oh. Well I don't want to bother you...I did your pregnancy exercise video all through my 2nd pregnancy..." and her daughter (who looks just like her but with dark hair) smiled and said, "Oh it's ok...." then they totally got in front of us. Cutters. She is super short like me. I assumed she was taller.
Then I could almost swear...ALMOST SWEAR TO GOD that I saw Ben Affleck who I don't even like at a tube station. If it wasn't him, it was a twin....
Then in Covent Garden we saw some older dude, who I can't even remember now. But I said, "Hey, isn't that_________?" and my Mom and daughter both said "Yeah!" but now I can't even remember who it was. Oh well. But Denise Austin WAY cut in line.
I don't look for celebrities...I usually end up in altercations with them. Then someone will tell me who they are..but I am too pissed to care...because they cut in front of me in line or something. I'm sorry, but you wait your Pilates toned ass in line like everyone else, Ms. Austin!
But you know those guards who wear the tall fuzzy hats? The ones people are always trying to get to laugh or whatever? My Mom told one who was JUST going on duty at Windsor Castle..."Oh...you are SOOOO handsome!" (what the HELL?!?!?!?) and he freaking blushed and said "Thank you." So they can be bought, people. What had gotten into my mother, I do not know. He looked exactly like every other dude in the red uniform with the fuzzy hat. And my Mom was evidently trying to score... I don't know.
Sanford asked the docents or volunteers or whatever they are at Windsor inane questions like: "Do the airplanes from Heathrow bother the Queen when she is here?"
Oh.My.God. Like she is going to call down to 89 year old Mildred the volunteer who stands in the doorway to the King's Closet and say "Oh, I say Mildred....the airplanes are so bothersome....do call Heathrow and have them ground all flights for the duration of my stay at Windsor...pip pip! " Good Lord.
Sanford fell out of bed 2 times whilst we were there. He fell out of the bed, and knocked over the bedside table, the lamp and two vases. He wears a breathing mask because he has sleep apnea...so he was laying on the floor buck naked with a breathing mask on. I had to wake him up to make him get back in bed. Freak. Middle of the night I hear *Crash* "Grunt"...so I look over and he is gone. I look over the edge of his side of the bed...and there he is asleep on the floor amidst the wreckage of the nightstand. I prod him and say "Hey!"
Sanford: "Uh"
Me: "What the hell? Are you okay?"
Sanford: "Uh?"
Me: "You fell out of the bed...get back in bed."
Sanford: "Uh."
In all fairness, he is used to a king sized bed, and were in a teeny tiny double bed...but crap! Two times?!?!?!?!?!
My Mom fell out of bed once.
I fell down the stairs of the flat we rented. Just the last 3 or 4 steps and it was the middle of the night and yes it hurt and I felt like a moron.
My Mom was convinced the flat was haunted. I think we are just all idiots.
OH MY GOSH! Remind me to tell you about the protest going on outside of Harrod's!!!! It gets worse and worse!
A vague smell of poop.
So. Still jet-lagged. Punchy...giddy. Call it what you will, but I am effed up.
Let's see....what else can I tell about the trip from hell? "Why from hell?" you ask...
Well...1. We took my Mom, and I actually thought it could go smoothly, but what an idiot I am.
and
2. We took my Mom.
Other than that....everything is ten times more expensive than you think it will be, and there is a vague smell of poop everywhere. In Paris there was a vague smell of liverwurst everywhere...in London, there is a vague smell of poop underlying everything. Even under the smell of Indian cooking....poop. Not dog poop, not cat poop (now that I am thinking about it, I did not see ONE SINGLE CAT IN ENGLAND...spooky)..but HUMAN poop.
The Indian food is awesome. Truly. It's EVERYwhere..but it's really good. Since I inherited the "gift" of mimicry from my father, I ended up talking like whoever was around. Only louder, and I made everything sound dirty.
For example....we were on the Underground and one of the stops is "Clapham" something or another. I began talking to my Mom in a very loud Cockney or "Norf" London accent. Hell, I don't know where it was from...but half those people don't pronounce their "th"s. Anyhow, I was saying stuff like: "Fred came 'ome late the uv'er night, 'e did....'is pecker is right full of the Clapham....'e won't be tuchin' me anytime soon, 'aye can tell ye that..." Anyhow, it was something to amuse me and pass the time and it mortified my Mother but made her laugh, too. So...."Clapham". Don't catch the "Clapham". "Ohhhh it'll mortify ye, it will."
OH MY GOD. HARROD'S. What A NIGHTMARE! And people, I shop. But Harrod's is too, too horrid for words. It is ...well....if you've never been there....let me see if I can describe it to you....Harrod's is like a very large, multi-level disco in Mexico in the 80's. Only all the lights are ON. It is set up so that you get lost. And from what I could TELL, and I might be WRONG...I probably AM..but all I found was ONE entrance/exit. There were guards allowing people in and out. It was mass chaos. For such a big assed place, they were sorely lacking in restrooms...OH EXCUSE ME....LUXURY LADIES' WASHROOMS.. (whattheFUCKever)....The food halls were like very crowded, gaudily decorated grocery stores. In fact, all of it was gaudy. The Egyptian Room was enough to make you puke. Then there were "The Rooms of Luxury". I think they were actually the maze entrance so that you got good and goddamned lost. There were plasma screens lining the escalators and they were all tuned to "Al Jazheera" or however it's spelled. I thought my Mother would come unHINGED. It is so crowded that you are barely shuffling at times...much like a very crowded nightclub in the 80s. The music is so loud you cannot think. Very much like a nightclub. The overpowering odors from the perfume departments is everywhere. We did have tea in one of the bazillion restaurants inside Harrod's, though. We had to sit the hell down and breathe. Tea with scones/jam and cream was over 100 bucks.
If fire ever breaks out in that place, it's going to be carnage the likes of which we've not seen in a very long while. And Agent Provocateur and La Perla will lose millions of pounds worth of bras and thongs that nobody is buying. Everyone is TOUCHING them to see what an 800 GBP bra feels like..but nobody is buying it.
Oh, I spotted some celebrities. Remember Denise Austin? The exercise guru chick? She totally cut in front of me in line at the Tower of London. I was about to throw down with her then I realized who she was and I said "Are you Denise Austin?" and she sort of furtively looked around and said "Well...yes..." and I said, "Oh. Well I don't want to bother you...I did your pregnancy exercise video all through my 2nd pregnancy..." and her daughter (who looks just like her but with dark hair) smiled and said, "Oh it's ok...." then they totally got in front of us. Cutters. She is super short like me. I assumed she was taller.
Then I could almost swear...ALMOST SWEAR TO GOD that I saw Ben Affleck who I don't even like at a tube station. If it wasn't him, it was a twin....
Then in Covent Garden we saw some older dude, who I can't even remember now. But I said, "Hey, isn't that_________?" and my Mom and daughter both said "Yeah!" but now I can't even remember who it was. Oh well. But Denise Austin WAY cut in line.
I don't look for celebrities...I usually end up in altercations with them. Then someone will tell me who they are..but I am too pissed to care...because they cut in front of me in line or something. I'm sorry, but you wait your Pilates toned ass in line like everyone else, Ms. Austin!
But you know those guards who wear the tall fuzzy hats? The ones people are always trying to get to laugh or whatever? My Mom told one who was JUST going on duty at Windsor Castle..."Oh...you are SOOOO handsome!" (what the HELL?!?!?!?) and he freaking blushed and said "Thank you." So they can be bought, people. What had gotten into my mother, I do not know. He looked exactly like every other dude in the red uniform with the fuzzy hat. And my Mom was evidently trying to score... I don't know.
Sanford asked the docents or volunteers or whatever they are at Windsor inane questions like: "Do the airplanes from Heathrow bother the Queen when she is here?"
Oh.My.God. Like she is going to call down to 89 year old Mildred the volunteer who stands in the doorway to the King's Closet and say "Oh, I say Mildred....the airplanes are so bothersome....do call Heathrow and have them ground all flights for the duration of my stay at Windsor...pip pip! " Good Lord.
Sanford fell out of bed 2 times whilst we were there. He fell out of the bed, and knocked over the bedside table, the lamp and two vases. He wears a breathing mask because he has sleep apnea...so he was laying on the floor buck naked with a breathing mask on. I had to wake him up to make him get back in bed. Freak. Middle of the night I hear *Crash* "Grunt"...so I look over and he is gone. I look over the edge of his side of the bed...and there he is asleep on the floor amidst the wreckage of the nightstand. I prod him and say "Hey!"
Sanford: "Uh"
Me: "What the hell? Are you okay?"
Sanford: "Uh?"
Me: "You fell out of the bed...get back in bed."
Sanford: "Uh."
In all fairness, he is used to a king sized bed, and were in a teeny tiny double bed...but crap! Two times?!?!?!?!?!
My Mom fell out of bed once.
I fell down the stairs of the flat we rented. Just the last 3 or 4 steps and it was the middle of the night and yes it hurt and I felt like a moron.
My Mom was convinced the flat was haunted. I think we are just all idiots.
OH MY GOSH! Remind me to tell you about the protest going on outside of Harrod's!!!! It gets worse and worse!
July 29, 2007
July 29, 2007
They want something more sophisticated than a HOT DOG
So. I'm home. We were in the UK for two weeks. I'm sure I'll have to write about it with several blogs. I keep remembering things and saying "Oh my GOD...do you remember so and so?"...anyhow...
1st: If there is a place in the world experiencing a drought...send me a ticket and give me GOOD accomodations and I'll come out. I seem to bring torrential flooding rains wherever I go.
2nd: England is GORGEOUS. Truly. I'm one of those people who get as much as possible out of a place. I'll look at the cobblestones and just holler "What are you kidding me??? These streets are hundreds of years old!!! This rocks!" And I just could sit and people watch and LOVE it, right? I have fun almost anywhere I go. Sanford is the same way. We are perfect travelling companions. We tolerate our kids' company..we figure they are seeing things that they may never see again, after all...and someday, they'll thank us.
3rd: Pubs everywhere. Awesome. Want a pint of good dark beer at 10:30 am? No problem. Pimm's is awesome, too. Love that stuff. Add pomegranate juice to it, and I'm in heaven.
Now....for some other stuff. The flat we rented: the guy who owns it and rents out flats in London is actually French. I thought he was a she until I met him face to face. He is an ex model. How do I know? He had a huge assed catalog full of his photographs...however...they were him 20 years ago. He's aged. (Haven't we all...) Anyhow...since we did a "self-catering" option...we had to do our laundry and there was no maid service. He said the nearest tube station was "about 5 minutes" LIE. FILTHY DAMNED STUPID LIE. We were between London Bridge Station and Borough Station. Both were at the VERY least 20 minutes by foot. No problem for us, but my Mom was with us. My continually complaining Mom. Also, the weather in England is oddly changeable. It is literally sunny and beautiful one second and raining heavily two seconds later. Go ANYWHERE without an umbrella and/or a light jacket or hoodie...and do so at your own peril. The whole flat was decorated from IKEA. Everything. It was in a neighborhood that is going through a sort of urban renewal..so every few blocks it is very nice and hip and trendy..and then you get a section that is like projects. Let's say we were in the projects. I'm sure our flat was like Buckingham Palace compared to the flats in our complex. Also, the stairs outside....people pee on the landings. Why? I do.not.know. If it smells like pee, and it's yellow....it's pee.
We were about 1/2 mile from Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. That was great.
Now...as far as the title of this blog. What the hell does THAT mean?!??! Well, we used the tube everyday. They use the tube for lots of little mini-billboards. One billboard(I do not even know what was being advertised)...said something like: "What we want is somethiing with intelligence, sophisticated..blah blah blah...you know..something more than a HOT DOG.."
Clearly a dig at America. We encountered anti-Americanism WAY more in Britain than in France. Anyhow, my daughter and I were ticked off at it, and I said, "More than a HOT DOG? How about ohhhh....I don't know....Eisenhower?"
Daughter: "Dentistry"
Me: "The Atomic Bomb"
Daughter: "Here's some food for thought...oh wait..they have no teeth..they can't chew..."
My Mom: "The Polio Vaccine"
Me: Eisenhower
Me: Plus, the Germans gave us hot dogs...these people would be speaking German right now if it weren't for America...
This blog has gone on long enough. I've got tons more..both good and bad. We did have wonderful times I have to tell about....
Allow me to say that the country is DIRTY and the people seem to be impoverished and willing to settle for very little and I'm sorry but I'm NOT STANDING IN LINE AT A BAR FOR A FREAKING BEER. I want a waiter....FAST. And they come to ME.
Currently listening:
God Bless America
By Various Artists
They want something more sophisticated than a HOT DOG
So. I'm home. We were in the UK for two weeks. I'm sure I'll have to write about it with several blogs. I keep remembering things and saying "Oh my GOD...do you remember so and so?"...anyhow...
1st: If there is a place in the world experiencing a drought...send me a ticket and give me GOOD accomodations and I'll come out. I seem to bring torrential flooding rains wherever I go.
2nd: England is GORGEOUS. Truly. I'm one of those people who get as much as possible out of a place. I'll look at the cobblestones and just holler "What are you kidding me??? These streets are hundreds of years old!!! This rocks!" And I just could sit and people watch and LOVE it, right? I have fun almost anywhere I go. Sanford is the same way. We are perfect travelling companions. We tolerate our kids' company..we figure they are seeing things that they may never see again, after all...and someday, they'll thank us.
3rd: Pubs everywhere. Awesome. Want a pint of good dark beer at 10:30 am? No problem. Pimm's is awesome, too. Love that stuff. Add pomegranate juice to it, and I'm in heaven.
Now....for some other stuff. The flat we rented: the guy who owns it and rents out flats in London is actually French. I thought he was a she until I met him face to face. He is an ex model. How do I know? He had a huge assed catalog full of his photographs...however...they were him 20 years ago. He's aged. (Haven't we all...) Anyhow...since we did a "self-catering" option...we had to do our laundry and there was no maid service. He said the nearest tube station was "about 5 minutes" LIE. FILTHY DAMNED STUPID LIE. We were between London Bridge Station and Borough Station. Both were at the VERY least 20 minutes by foot. No problem for us, but my Mom was with us. My continually complaining Mom. Also, the weather in England is oddly changeable. It is literally sunny and beautiful one second and raining heavily two seconds later. Go ANYWHERE without an umbrella and/or a light jacket or hoodie...and do so at your own peril. The whole flat was decorated from IKEA. Everything. It was in a neighborhood that is going through a sort of urban renewal..so every few blocks it is very nice and hip and trendy..and then you get a section that is like projects. Let's say we were in the projects. I'm sure our flat was like Buckingham Palace compared to the flats in our complex. Also, the stairs outside....people pee on the landings. Why? I do.not.know. If it smells like pee, and it's yellow....it's pee.
We were about 1/2 mile from Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. That was great.
Now...as far as the title of this blog. What the hell does THAT mean?!??! Well, we used the tube everyday. They use the tube for lots of little mini-billboards. One billboard(I do not even know what was being advertised)...said something like: "What we want is somethiing with intelligence, sophisticated..blah blah blah...you know..something more than a HOT DOG.."
Clearly a dig at America. We encountered anti-Americanism WAY more in Britain than in France. Anyhow, my daughter and I were ticked off at it, and I said, "More than a HOT DOG? How about ohhhh....I don't know....Eisenhower?"
Daughter: "Dentistry"
Me: "The Atomic Bomb"
Daughter: "Here's some food for thought...oh wait..they have no teeth..they can't chew..."
My Mom: "The Polio Vaccine"
Me: Eisenhower
Me: Plus, the Germans gave us hot dogs...these people would be speaking German right now if it weren't for America...
This blog has gone on long enough. I've got tons more..both good and bad. We did have wonderful times I have to tell about....
Allow me to say that the country is DIRTY and the people seem to be impoverished and willing to settle for very little and I'm sorry but I'm NOT STANDING IN LINE AT A BAR FOR A FREAKING BEER. I want a waiter....FAST. And they come to ME.
Currently listening:
God Bless America
By Various Artists
July 11, 2007
July 11, 2007
Ringie Dingie
Yeah, so guess who called me today? That's right! That craptastic airline, ATA! They fucking CALLED ME ON THE PHONE while I was attempting to get some stuff packed before our whirlwind clusterfuck tour of the UK. I HATE the telephone. Let's just get that out of the way right now. HATE.IT. So, I'm annoyed that it's ringing in the first place. I have 3 kids, two of whom are teenagers. That shit should barely get a whole ring out of if before one of the kids answers it. Anyhow, obviously, nobody was gonna answer it, and I look on the Caller ID, and I see (hang on, I gotta look and see what the hell ATA stands for on the Caller ID...) Okay...I see "Amer. Trans. Air 317-241-2221" heheh. Anyhow...I jerked the phone up because I realize that is ATA the butt-munchers. (And that is their phone number if you would like to telephone them for any reason at all....)
Me: *long silence...* "Yessss?"
Poor Perky Northern girl who had NO idea what she was walking into: "Is this ________?"
Me: Yes it is.
(We'll just call her dumbass): Ohhhh...good morning! How are you today?!? (very perky and that Illinois/Wisconsin kind of accent)
Me: I'm Jim Dandy.
Dumbass: Oh. Well, I'm calling from A.T.A. airlines?
Me:..........
Dumbass: Umm...and...uhhh...I'm calling in response to your recent email?
Me: Yes.
Dumbass: Um, well...we at ATA think it is very unfortunate that you had a bad experience..
Me: *Interrupting* Excuse me....my children were lost in one of the world's largest airports because your employees didn't care and nobody would help them. I think that is a bit more serious than "unfortunate".
Dumbass: Uhhhh...could you please hold for just a second?
Me: Sure.
So she is gone for a few minutes and I'm stomping around the house picking up stuff and starting laundry and hollering at kids and doing whatever it is that I do.
She comes back on....
Dumbass: Well...I've checked and it says here that your children were 11.
Me: *Interrupting* and 14..yes, I know how old my children are....is there a reason you are calling me?
Dumbass: Well, when you made the reservations..
Me: *Interrupting* I didn't make the reservations. My ex-husband did. I got to the airport in Dallas, stood in line at your ticket counter, explained to your ticket agent that I was picking up my MINOR children, offered her my copy of the eticket I had printed, along with my identification, and she told me that I could not go to the gate because an extra FEE had not been paid to designate my children as UNaccompanied MINORS. Now, in the eyes of the LAW, my children are indeed minors, and when my husband called 911 to report two missing children, they were reported as minors...my ex-husband was allowed to accompany them to the gate in Chicago, however since a FEE had not been paid so that they didn't have a sign hung around their necks or something that said WE ARE UNACCOMPANIED MINORS...I couldn't go through security, and believe me....security is ready for ME because I bought medicine from freakin' Canada! I would have stripped naked, submitted to a full body cavity search or whatever the HELL they wanted, because I just wanted to PICK UP MY CHILDREN, but hell NO....I DIDN'T PAY A FREAKIN' FEE...and
Dumbass: *Interrupting*: Could you please hold on?
Me: YEAH
I was mad as hell because these dickheads had called me and stirred it all up again.
So, she comes back on the line and says,
Dumbass: "I've checked with two supervisors and they confirm that since the fee wasn-
Me: So help me God, do not tell me that there is not one person in your whole damned company that isn't enough of a decent human being to help two children when they ask for help! My kids asked one of your flight attendants....she said she couldn't help them. They asked your gate agent....he couldn't help them...they asked a security guard...he didn't speak English well enough for my kids to understand HIM...and the person who FINALLY got them was someone I had your baggage agent send out to FIND them. Not ONE person was decent enough to help KIDS????? As a human being if someone asks me for help I'll try and help them! Now if you are just going to keep giving me shit, leave me the hell alone!
And I hung up on her. Bitch. That whole company represents what's wrong with corporate America. That is why domestic airlines SUCK. In general. I've had good luck with Southwest...but you couldn't FORCE me onto a Delta flight ever again. And if you fly A.T.A. ....you're asking for an ass raping.
and I think I like Barack Obama. There. Now I have to get some sleep and get ready for a freakin' 9 hour FLIGHT ON AN AIRPLANE and a two week trip WITH MY MOTHER IN TOW. Man I am pissed off again, now.
Oh..OH! WAIT! THIS IS GOOD! Sanford has so many virus' and spyware on his computer that it is effed up pretty damned good. So, he decided to try and renew his virus shit without asking me for help, right? Hehehehe....and I'm the one that told him he has this shit on his computer...and it's from porn sites...like I don't know...or like I care. He's the ONE man on the Earth that doesn't visit porn sites...oh my GOD!
So, I was telling him..."ok...the deal is...this stuff gets put on your computer and you don't know...it's not like they ask you...but when you go to sites like...gaming sites...gambling sites...porn sites.....it gets put on there, and you don't even know..."
And he got all nervous...and I said, "Oh God..relax...like you're the only man who doesn't go to Porn sites...christ...." So he is now on the phone with some dude in Pakistan or somewhere with Norton Anti-virus because he has his computer so EFFED up. and I won't fix it this time. hehe.
Sweet dreams!
Ringie Dingie
Yeah, so guess who called me today? That's right! That craptastic airline, ATA! They fucking CALLED ME ON THE PHONE while I was attempting to get some stuff packed before our whirlwind clusterfuck tour of the UK. I HATE the telephone. Let's just get that out of the way right now. HATE.IT. So, I'm annoyed that it's ringing in the first place. I have 3 kids, two of whom are teenagers. That shit should barely get a whole ring out of if before one of the kids answers it. Anyhow, obviously, nobody was gonna answer it, and I look on the Caller ID, and I see (hang on, I gotta look and see what the hell ATA stands for on the Caller ID...) Okay...I see "Amer. Trans. Air 317-241-2221" heheh. Anyhow...I jerked the phone up because I realize that is ATA the butt-munchers. (And that is their phone number if you would like to telephone them for any reason at all....)
Me: *long silence...* "Yessss?"
Poor Perky Northern girl who had NO idea what she was walking into: "Is this ________?"
Me: Yes it is.
(We'll just call her dumbass): Ohhhh...good morning! How are you today?!? (very perky and that Illinois/Wisconsin kind of accent)
Me: I'm Jim Dandy.
Dumbass: Oh. Well, I'm calling from A.T.A. airlines?
Me:..........
Dumbass: Umm...and...uhhh...I'm calling in response to your recent email?
Me: Yes.
Dumbass: Um, well...we at ATA think it is very unfortunate that you had a bad experience..
Me: *Interrupting* Excuse me....my children were lost in one of the world's largest airports because your employees didn't care and nobody would help them. I think that is a bit more serious than "unfortunate".
Dumbass: Uhhhh...could you please hold for just a second?
Me: Sure.
So she is gone for a few minutes and I'm stomping around the house picking up stuff and starting laundry and hollering at kids and doing whatever it is that I do.
She comes back on....
Dumbass: Well...I've checked and it says here that your children were 11.
Me: *Interrupting* and 14..yes, I know how old my children are....is there a reason you are calling me?
Dumbass: Well, when you made the reservations..
Me: *Interrupting* I didn't make the reservations. My ex-husband did. I got to the airport in Dallas, stood in line at your ticket counter, explained to your ticket agent that I was picking up my MINOR children, offered her my copy of the eticket I had printed, along with my identification, and she told me that I could not go to the gate because an extra FEE had not been paid to designate my children as UNaccompanied MINORS. Now, in the eyes of the LAW, my children are indeed minors, and when my husband called 911 to report two missing children, they were reported as minors...my ex-husband was allowed to accompany them to the gate in Chicago, however since a FEE had not been paid so that they didn't have a sign hung around their necks or something that said WE ARE UNACCOMPANIED MINORS...I couldn't go through security, and believe me....security is ready for ME because I bought medicine from freakin' Canada! I would have stripped naked, submitted to a full body cavity search or whatever the HELL they wanted, because I just wanted to PICK UP MY CHILDREN, but hell NO....I DIDN'T PAY A FREAKIN' FEE...and
Dumbass: *Interrupting*: Could you please hold on?
Me: YEAH
I was mad as hell because these dickheads had called me and stirred it all up again.
So, she comes back on the line and says,
Dumbass: "I've checked with two supervisors and they confirm that since the fee wasn-
Me: So help me God, do not tell me that there is not one person in your whole damned company that isn't enough of a decent human being to help two children when they ask for help! My kids asked one of your flight attendants....she said she couldn't help them. They asked your gate agent....he couldn't help them...they asked a security guard...he didn't speak English well enough for my kids to understand HIM...and the person who FINALLY got them was someone I had your baggage agent send out to FIND them. Not ONE person was decent enough to help KIDS????? As a human being if someone asks me for help I'll try and help them! Now if you are just going to keep giving me shit, leave me the hell alone!
And I hung up on her. Bitch. That whole company represents what's wrong with corporate America. That is why domestic airlines SUCK. In general. I've had good luck with Southwest...but you couldn't FORCE me onto a Delta flight ever again. And if you fly A.T.A. ....you're asking for an ass raping.
and I think I like Barack Obama. There. Now I have to get some sleep and get ready for a freakin' 9 hour FLIGHT ON AN AIRPLANE and a two week trip WITH MY MOTHER IN TOW. Man I am pissed off again, now.
Oh..OH! WAIT! THIS IS GOOD! Sanford has so many virus' and spyware on his computer that it is effed up pretty damned good. So, he decided to try and renew his virus shit without asking me for help, right? Hehehehe....and I'm the one that told him he has this shit on his computer...and it's from porn sites...like I don't know...or like I care. He's the ONE man on the Earth that doesn't visit porn sites...oh my GOD!
So, I was telling him..."ok...the deal is...this stuff gets put on your computer and you don't know...it's not like they ask you...but when you go to sites like...gaming sites...gambling sites...porn sites.....it gets put on there, and you don't even know..."
And he got all nervous...and I said, "Oh God..relax...like you're the only man who doesn't go to Porn sites...christ...." So he is now on the phone with some dude in Pakistan or somewhere with Norton Anti-virus because he has his computer so EFFED up. and I won't fix it this time. hehe.
Sweet dreams!
July 8, 2007
July 08, 2007
Water
So, I buy a TON of bottled water. But I buy the raspberry water. I LIVE on it. I cannot exist without it. I don't like strawberry. I don't like lemon, I don't like Crystal Light shit. I like a particular type. And this town is CONTINUALLY running out of it. And this annoys and irks me. So, today I got tricked into going into a store that sells foodstuffs. A grocery store, if you will. I felt like an Amish person in an electronics store. So, they don't have my water. So I bought one of those water filter pitchers and guess what!?!?!? They let you put in these little flavor cartridges! Raspberry! I'm hooked up! Now I'm happy! And I won't drink regular water because it has nastiness in it. There is so much CHLORINE in water it's unreal...not to mention all the other shit. And we SHOWER in it! Ugh! My eyes water everytime the bathroom door opens after someone has showered and all the steam comes out.
And I think Saaphyri from "Charm School Girls" is rockin'. 100%. And yes, I just admitted to watching that atrocious television show.
Shut up and suck it.
Chuck Norris is widely predicted to be first black president. If you're thinking to yourself, "But Chuck Norris isn't black", then you are dead wrong. And stop being a racist.
8:02 PM
Water
So, I buy a TON of bottled water. But I buy the raspberry water. I LIVE on it. I cannot exist without it. I don't like strawberry. I don't like lemon, I don't like Crystal Light shit. I like a particular type. And this town is CONTINUALLY running out of it. And this annoys and irks me. So, today I got tricked into going into a store that sells foodstuffs. A grocery store, if you will. I felt like an Amish person in an electronics store. So, they don't have my water. So I bought one of those water filter pitchers and guess what!?!?!? They let you put in these little flavor cartridges! Raspberry! I'm hooked up! Now I'm happy! And I won't drink regular water because it has nastiness in it. There is so much CHLORINE in water it's unreal...not to mention all the other shit. And we SHOWER in it! Ugh! My eyes water everytime the bathroom door opens after someone has showered and all the steam comes out.
And I think Saaphyri from "Charm School Girls" is rockin'. 100%. And yes, I just admitted to watching that atrocious television show.
Shut up and suck it.
Chuck Norris is widely predicted to be first black president. If you're thinking to yourself, "But Chuck Norris isn't black", then you are dead wrong. And stop being a racist.
8:02 PM
July 4, 2007
July 04, 2007
Books
So, I've been reading a lot. I just finished "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion. I highly recommend it. #1: Joan Didion...I mean come on. #2: It's about the year right after her husband died suddenly from a massive heart attack and her daughter was in a coma. She writes so precisely and beautifully about grieving and the psychological processes one goes through....I'd pay any amount of money to be able to write like Joan Didion. It's breathtaking.
I recently read "Life on Planet Rock" by Lonn Friend. It was so-so. Lonn Friend seems like a dickhead to me. I thought it would be full of juicy gossip about bands, but naaah.
"Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts is BEAUTIFUL. Absolutely GORGEOUS. India is a place I've never really wanted to visit, but now I do.
"The Memory Keeper's Daughter" was very good, too. It's one of those books I've seen several times, but never purchased. I finally bought it and read it. It was pretty good.
You know, "To Catch a Predator" on MSNBC is on, and those dudes who try to meet 13 year olds to have sex they've talked to on the internet make me wanna hurl. The EXCUSES they make are UNREAL! The a PARADE of men going to these houses to try and have sex with a child. Wigs me out.
If you haven't seen the "Dramatic Chipmunk" or "Dramatic Prairie Dog", Google that shit and laugh your ass off. Just Google "Dramatic Chipmunk" or "Prairie Dog" and watch. It's worth the several seconds it takes. I promise.
Yes, these are the things that I waste my time on.
OOH! My effin' lawyer is on TV on a commercial and you guys..he is such an asshole. I swear. I don't even wanna think about it.
Currently reading:
The Painted Veil
By W. Somerset Maugham
Release date: 14 November, 2006
Books
So, I've been reading a lot. I just finished "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion. I highly recommend it. #1: Joan Didion...I mean come on. #2: It's about the year right after her husband died suddenly from a massive heart attack and her daughter was in a coma. She writes so precisely and beautifully about grieving and the psychological processes one goes through....I'd pay any amount of money to be able to write like Joan Didion. It's breathtaking.
I recently read "Life on Planet Rock" by Lonn Friend. It was so-so. Lonn Friend seems like a dickhead to me. I thought it would be full of juicy gossip about bands, but naaah.
"Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts is BEAUTIFUL. Absolutely GORGEOUS. India is a place I've never really wanted to visit, but now I do.
"The Memory Keeper's Daughter" was very good, too. It's one of those books I've seen several times, but never purchased. I finally bought it and read it. It was pretty good.
You know, "To Catch a Predator" on MSNBC is on, and those dudes who try to meet 13 year olds to have sex they've talked to on the internet make me wanna hurl. The EXCUSES they make are UNREAL! The a PARADE of men going to these houses to try and have sex with a child. Wigs me out.
If you haven't seen the "Dramatic Chipmunk" or "Dramatic Prairie Dog", Google that shit and laugh your ass off. Just Google "Dramatic Chipmunk" or "Prairie Dog" and watch. It's worth the several seconds it takes. I promise.
Yes, these are the things that I waste my time on.
OOH! My effin' lawyer is on TV on a commercial and you guys..he is such an asshole. I swear. I don't even wanna think about it.
Currently reading:
The Painted Veil
By W. Somerset Maugham
Release date: 14 November, 2006
July 3, 2007
July 03, 2007
Facts
So. Chuck Norris. I'm not a big fan. But some people are. And there are facts aplenty..I live in a military town and he is BIG with the soldiers. So here for your pleasure are some "Chuck Norris FACTS"
* Fear is not the only emotion Chuck Norris can smell. He can also detect hope, as in "I hope I don't get a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris."
*There is endless debate about the existence of the human soul. Well it does exist, and Chuck Norris finds it delicious.
*Chuck Norris wears a live rattlesnake as a condom.
*The Bible was originally titled "Chuck Norris and Friends"
*On the set of Walker Texas Ranger Chuck Norris brought a dying lamb back to life by nuzzling it with his beard. As the onlookers gathered, the lamb sprang to life. Chuck Norris then roundhouse kicked it, killing it instantly. This was just to prove that the good Chuck giveth, and the good Chuck, he taketh away.
*Nagasaki never had a bomb dropped on it. Chuck Norris jumped out of a plane and punched the ground.
*Chuck Norris can judge a book by its cover.
*Chuck Norris is the only person to ever win a staring contest against Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder at the same time.
*Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
*When God said, "let there be light", Chuck Norris said, "say 'please'."
*Chuck Norris puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us. The only difference is, then he kills people.
*Everybody loves Raymond. Except Chuck Norris.
*Never look a gift Chuck Norris in the mouth, because he will bite your damn eyes off.
*Guantuanamo Bay, Cuba, is the military code-word for "Chuck Norris' basement".
*When Chuck Norris works out on the Total Gym, the Total Gym feels like it's been raped.
*The square root of Chuck Norris is pain. Do not try to square Chuck Norris, the result is death.
That's all for today. I have to go watch the "Reno-911 movie" with Sanford now. My mind needs enrichment.
Facts
So. Chuck Norris. I'm not a big fan. But some people are. And there are facts aplenty..I live in a military town and he is BIG with the soldiers. So here for your pleasure are some "Chuck Norris FACTS"
* Fear is not the only emotion Chuck Norris can smell. He can also detect hope, as in "I hope I don't get a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris."
*There is endless debate about the existence of the human soul. Well it does exist, and Chuck Norris finds it delicious.
*Chuck Norris wears a live rattlesnake as a condom.
*The Bible was originally titled "Chuck Norris and Friends"
*On the set of Walker Texas Ranger Chuck Norris brought a dying lamb back to life by nuzzling it with his beard. As the onlookers gathered, the lamb sprang to life. Chuck Norris then roundhouse kicked it, killing it instantly. This was just to prove that the good Chuck giveth, and the good Chuck, he taketh away.
*Nagasaki never had a bomb dropped on it. Chuck Norris jumped out of a plane and punched the ground.
*Chuck Norris can judge a book by its cover.
*Chuck Norris is the only person to ever win a staring contest against Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder at the same time.
*Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
*When God said, "let there be light", Chuck Norris said, "say 'please'."
*Chuck Norris puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us. The only difference is, then he kills people.
*Everybody loves Raymond. Except Chuck Norris.
*Never look a gift Chuck Norris in the mouth, because he will bite your damn eyes off.
*Guantuanamo Bay, Cuba, is the military code-word for "Chuck Norris' basement".
*When Chuck Norris works out on the Total Gym, the Total Gym feels like it's been raped.
*The square root of Chuck Norris is pain. Do not try to square Chuck Norris, the result is death.
That's all for today. I have to go watch the "Reno-911 movie" with Sanford now. My mind needs enrichment.
July 2, 2007
July 02, 2007
WTF?
So, my Mom is nuts. She comes out with these random assed demands and comments that are just not normal. The other day she told me:
"I had a dream that my mother was alive again."
Me: Uh-huh...
Mom: She was young and beautiful again..
Me: Well....she was young once, but beautiful?
Mom: WELL! I THOUGHT SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL WHEN I WAS A CHILD!
Me: Uh-huh..
Mom: In my dream, she was beckoning to me....she was saying, 'come to me...come...come....come be with me...."
Me: Uhhhh....creepy...
Mom: She wanted me to be with her.
Me: Mom...she's dead. She wanted you to be dead with her?
Mom: Yeah!
Me: Well,that's disturbing..
Mom: No...it's not. She just wants me....
Me: Dude...she's DEAD. Are you saying your mother is trying to kill you? Like her ghost? Her spirit?
Mom: Well, not KILL me...but she wants me to come be with her.
Me: Uhhhhh...so.....she doesn't want to KILL you, but she wants you DEAD....
Mom: yeah! But i can't go yet.
Me: you can't?
Mom: Oh, no!
Me: Uhhhh...dare I ask why?
Mom: I have work to do , still!
Me: Do you think Grandma's ghost CARES? Or is she going to take that under advisement?
Mom: Oh. i don't know.
And that was our whole freakin' conversation.
Then, we were walking through a department store the other day, and we were walking through the lingerie department. She sees a beautiful peignoir set. It had a totally worthless bed jacket. It was gorgeous, but that was all it was good for...the beauty of it. It was sheer white, white very pale roses embroidered on it and it cost almost $200 for just the little bolero-like bed jacket. She stopped in front of it and tells me, Sanford and my father who she is separated from, but still married to:
"When I'm dying, and in the hospital...I want to wear this set. Okay? OKAY? DO YOU YEAR ME? PROMISE?'
I said, "Sure...then we'll ship you off to a cheap ass hourly hotel downtown and have KFC delivered to you everday..."
Now, she isn't ill...she is in her early 60s..no reason for this shit.
Now, on to the real business. I have my boys back. We had to go pick them up in Dallas. At DFW. Big airport, right? My ex...(AKA: Sphincter) paid to fly the boys home on some dipshit airline called "ATA". Sanford calls it "Mohammed ATA" airline. (Mohammed Atta was one of the 9/11 hijackers). Anyhow, we get to the airport in PLENTY..and I do mean PUUUUUULEEEEEEEHHHHNNNTY of time. I go up to FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING DIPSHIT ASS SUCKING ATA airlines ticket counter. I tell them I'm picking up two minor children. They check their little ticky tack computer...sure enough, my two children are on the plane. Great. Excellent. Good to know. Plane is a little late. Fine. We pretty much expect that now-a-days, don't we? Then the stupid assed fucking bitch woman working the desk who evidently relishes this part of her job says..."Says here one of the kids is 14..."
Me: Yes. one of them is. The other is 11. Can i please get a pass to meet them at the gate?
Fucking whore bitch: No. The extra fee wasn't paid to classify them as "unaccompanied minors" The 14 year old is considered an adult accompanying the 11 year old. They will have to find their way to the baggage claim.
Me: Excuse me? They can't possibly find their way to the baggage claim from the gate by themselves. They are expecting me to be at the gate to meet them. They are children. The last time I was able to meet them. I'll give you my driver's license, my wallet, my purse..whatever you wish....but I need to be able to meet them at the gate, please.
Fucking whore assed bitch who thought she was in charge: No. You can't go. Wait at baggage claim. NEXT.
Me: What? This is ridiculous. Is there someone I can speak with?
Now, this is when you realize airports will have your ass escorted right the hell out of airports these days. My fucking name is on the homeland security list because I attempted to buy medicine from our arch nemesis CANADA....no way they'll let ME do anything. Damned assholes. However, a delivery truck was parked outside the terminal for 2 hours. Comforting.
So, we meanwhile tried to contact that effin' goddamned airline everyway we could...meanwhile...their incompetent ticket counter fucking CLOSED..it wasn't even 7pm yet. THEY CLOSED. Their plane lands. The way DFW is set up, you can't see the gates...people are coming through the revolving doors...pretty soon, nobody else is coming through...I am getting a sick feeling in my stomach. Sanford goes to tell the security people...their response was "You'll have to call the airlines 800 number..." He said "Fuck that" and called 911 and reported two missing children in the airport.
Meanwhile, I found the hapless baggage agent and and went up to him and said
"You get on your phone, you call the gate and you find my two children, and do NOT tell me to go to your worthless counter, it's closed...my two children are missing and I'll tear this airport apart if they are not in my arms in two minutes..." He never said a word, but picked up his phone and then said, "Are they 11 and 14?" and I said, "Yes." and he said, "They are being brought up...they were lost.."
FUCKING LOST. the 11 year old was in tears. They came through the revolving doors and into my arms and I find out they had asked flight attendants, the gate agent and several other people where they were to go. NOBODY helped them. They finally found a security guard who showed them where to go. People kept telling them "Baggage claim E31" Swell. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT?!?!?!?!? I am so mad STILL.
THEN...we get home and I start unpacking their suitcases and there is a notice from the NTSA stating that the suitcase had been hand searched. Inside was two hunks of modeling clay. Hmmmm...in an X-ray it happens to look like C4. No wonder they had to hand search. Not ONLY did they open it, but they ripped open the packaging and took samples of the clay. THEN, I found a fake human SKULL in the suitcase. Evidently the boys got a fucking CSI kit. And the SPHINCTER thought putting that shit in a suitcase to send it home was okay. THAT IS WHY THEIR PLANE WAS 1 1/2 HOURS LATE LEAVING. They had to test the damned clay and make sure it wasn't an actual skull in their suitcase.
MY EX HUSBAND IS POSSIBLY THE DUMBEST HUMAN EVER.
And ATA airlines are ASS MUNCHERS.
OH! And I overheard a man say this as he walked past the baggage carousel: "Well, the FINALLY found my FISH!"
WTF?
So, my Mom is nuts. She comes out with these random assed demands and comments that are just not normal. The other day she told me:
"I had a dream that my mother was alive again."
Me: Uh-huh...
Mom: She was young and beautiful again..
Me: Well....she was young once, but beautiful?
Mom: WELL! I THOUGHT SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL WHEN I WAS A CHILD!
Me: Uh-huh..
Mom: In my dream, she was beckoning to me....she was saying, 'come to me...come...come....come be with me...."
Me: Uhhhh....creepy...
Mom: She wanted me to be with her.
Me: Mom...she's dead. She wanted you to be dead with her?
Mom: Yeah!
Me: Well,that's disturbing..
Mom: No...it's not. She just wants me....
Me: Dude...she's DEAD. Are you saying your mother is trying to kill you? Like her ghost? Her spirit?
Mom: Well, not KILL me...but she wants me to come be with her.
Me: Uhhhhh...so.....she doesn't want to KILL you, but she wants you DEAD....
Mom: yeah! But i can't go yet.
Me: you can't?
Mom: Oh, no!
Me: Uhhhh...dare I ask why?
Mom: I have work to do , still!
Me: Do you think Grandma's ghost CARES? Or is she going to take that under advisement?
Mom: Oh. i don't know.
And that was our whole freakin' conversation.
Then, we were walking through a department store the other day, and we were walking through the lingerie department. She sees a beautiful peignoir set. It had a totally worthless bed jacket. It was gorgeous, but that was all it was good for...the beauty of it. It was sheer white, white very pale roses embroidered on it and it cost almost $200 for just the little bolero-like bed jacket. She stopped in front of it and tells me, Sanford and my father who she is separated from, but still married to:
"When I'm dying, and in the hospital...I want to wear this set. Okay? OKAY? DO YOU YEAR ME? PROMISE?'
I said, "Sure...then we'll ship you off to a cheap ass hourly hotel downtown and have KFC delivered to you everday..."
Now, she isn't ill...she is in her early 60s..no reason for this shit.
Now, on to the real business. I have my boys back. We had to go pick them up in Dallas. At DFW. Big airport, right? My ex...(AKA: Sphincter) paid to fly the boys home on some dipshit airline called "ATA". Sanford calls it "Mohammed ATA" airline. (Mohammed Atta was one of the 9/11 hijackers). Anyhow, we get to the airport in PLENTY..and I do mean PUUUUUULEEEEEEEHHHHNNNTY of time. I go up to FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING DIPSHIT ASS SUCKING ATA airlines ticket counter. I tell them I'm picking up two minor children. They check their little ticky tack computer...sure enough, my two children are on the plane. Great. Excellent. Good to know. Plane is a little late. Fine. We pretty much expect that now-a-days, don't we? Then the stupid assed fucking bitch woman working the desk who evidently relishes this part of her job says..."Says here one of the kids is 14..."
Me: Yes. one of them is. The other is 11. Can i please get a pass to meet them at the gate?
Fucking whore bitch: No. The extra fee wasn't paid to classify them as "unaccompanied minors" The 14 year old is considered an adult accompanying the 11 year old. They will have to find their way to the baggage claim.
Me: Excuse me? They can't possibly find their way to the baggage claim from the gate by themselves. They are expecting me to be at the gate to meet them. They are children. The last time I was able to meet them. I'll give you my driver's license, my wallet, my purse..whatever you wish....but I need to be able to meet them at the gate, please.
Fucking whore assed bitch who thought she was in charge: No. You can't go. Wait at baggage claim. NEXT.
Me: What? This is ridiculous. Is there someone I can speak with?
Now, this is when you realize airports will have your ass escorted right the hell out of airports these days. My fucking name is on the homeland security list because I attempted to buy medicine from our arch nemesis CANADA....no way they'll let ME do anything. Damned assholes. However, a delivery truck was parked outside the terminal for 2 hours. Comforting.
So, we meanwhile tried to contact that effin' goddamned airline everyway we could...meanwhile...their incompetent ticket counter fucking CLOSED..it wasn't even 7pm yet. THEY CLOSED. Their plane lands. The way DFW is set up, you can't see the gates...people are coming through the revolving doors...pretty soon, nobody else is coming through...I am getting a sick feeling in my stomach. Sanford goes to tell the security people...their response was "You'll have to call the airlines 800 number..." He said "Fuck that" and called 911 and reported two missing children in the airport.
Meanwhile, I found the hapless baggage agent and and went up to him and said
"You get on your phone, you call the gate and you find my two children, and do NOT tell me to go to your worthless counter, it's closed...my two children are missing and I'll tear this airport apart if they are not in my arms in two minutes..." He never said a word, but picked up his phone and then said, "Are they 11 and 14?" and I said, "Yes." and he said, "They are being brought up...they were lost.."
FUCKING LOST. the 11 year old was in tears. They came through the revolving doors and into my arms and I find out they had asked flight attendants, the gate agent and several other people where they were to go. NOBODY helped them. They finally found a security guard who showed them where to go. People kept telling them "Baggage claim E31" Swell. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT?!?!?!?!? I am so mad STILL.
THEN...we get home and I start unpacking their suitcases and there is a notice from the NTSA stating that the suitcase had been hand searched. Inside was two hunks of modeling clay. Hmmmm...in an X-ray it happens to look like C4. No wonder they had to hand search. Not ONLY did they open it, but they ripped open the packaging and took samples of the clay. THEN, I found a fake human SKULL in the suitcase. Evidently the boys got a fucking CSI kit. And the SPHINCTER thought putting that shit in a suitcase to send it home was okay. THAT IS WHY THEIR PLANE WAS 1 1/2 HOURS LATE LEAVING. They had to test the damned clay and make sure it wasn't an actual skull in their suitcase.
MY EX HUSBAND IS POSSIBLY THE DUMBEST HUMAN EVER.
And ATA airlines are ASS MUNCHERS.
OH! And I overheard a man say this as he walked past the baggage carousel: "Well, the FINALLY found my FISH!"
June 24, 2007
June 24, 2007
More television musings....
So, it's summer, i have more time..TV is on more often.
I'm ADDICTED to "Dirty Jobs". And Mike Rowe has just proven my assertion that monkeys are EVIL, DIRTY, MEAN AND NASTY WRETCHED CREATURES. People are being attacked and mutilated by monkeys on that show. I could have told them that. I have monkey stories, people. Real, personal, actual monkey stories. Painful, but true. They are now on a satellite phone begging to be taken out of the place where they are...like begging for air strikes and backup and shit. Monkeys ARE SATANIC. They are "pinned down" by a monkey named "Patty". The lady who owns the monkeys is holding the psychotic monkey looking into the window at the men in their beds. It's HORRIFIC.
Anyhow, another show I've become totally addicted to is "the Deadliest Catch". Why? I LOVE IT. I've watched it over and over and watched the "making of" episode and everything. I WANNA BE A CRAB FISHERMAN! I have become addicted to the online game on Discovery.com. i don't play computer games. Tonight a new show about driving 18 wheelers on ice starts. I'M ATREMBLE with excitement!
This is sad. We leave in a couple of weeks for England. What will I do if the Ice Truckers season is still going on? I don't know how to record on that DVR crap!
I have a headache, but I don't want to miss this "Dirty Jobs" or the "Ice Truckers" later. How pathetic. OH! And "Cash Cab"! I SO wanna get in that cab! I can ace it!
My no longer married, but really actually married, but separated, no longer living together parents came over together. I don't even know. Don't ask. We go to lunch,
Mom: You treat me to lunch, okay? (she said to my Dad..."
Him: Yeah...
Mom: I'll buy dessert...
Jesus Murphy, they are married. I'm confused. I'm going to watch the horrid monkeys.
Oh don't message me or comment on how wondrous monkeys are. Don't wanna hear it. You don't know what heinous inhumanities I've suffered at the hands of monkeys. So suck it.
More television musings....
So, it's summer, i have more time..TV is on more often.
I'm ADDICTED to "Dirty Jobs". And Mike Rowe has just proven my assertion that monkeys are EVIL, DIRTY, MEAN AND NASTY WRETCHED CREATURES. People are being attacked and mutilated by monkeys on that show. I could have told them that. I have monkey stories, people. Real, personal, actual monkey stories. Painful, but true. They are now on a satellite phone begging to be taken out of the place where they are...like begging for air strikes and backup and shit. Monkeys ARE SATANIC. They are "pinned down" by a monkey named "Patty". The lady who owns the monkeys is holding the psychotic monkey looking into the window at the men in their beds. It's HORRIFIC.
Anyhow, another show I've become totally addicted to is "the Deadliest Catch". Why? I LOVE IT. I've watched it over and over and watched the "making of" episode and everything. I WANNA BE A CRAB FISHERMAN! I have become addicted to the online game on Discovery.com. i don't play computer games. Tonight a new show about driving 18 wheelers on ice starts. I'M ATREMBLE with excitement!
This is sad. We leave in a couple of weeks for England. What will I do if the Ice Truckers season is still going on? I don't know how to record on that DVR crap!
I have a headache, but I don't want to miss this "Dirty Jobs" or the "Ice Truckers" later. How pathetic. OH! And "Cash Cab"! I SO wanna get in that cab! I can ace it!
My no longer married, but really actually married, but separated, no longer living together parents came over together. I don't even know. Don't ask. We go to lunch,
Mom: You treat me to lunch, okay? (she said to my Dad..."
Him: Yeah...
Mom: I'll buy dessert...
Jesus Murphy, they are married. I'm confused. I'm going to watch the horrid monkeys.
Oh don't message me or comment on how wondrous monkeys are. Don't wanna hear it. You don't know what heinous inhumanities I've suffered at the hands of monkeys. So suck it.
June 22, 2007
June 22, 2007
I want my babies
So, we got our puppy back. But my sons are still up north with the Sphincter. ( I just realized tonight that I start a substantial amount of my Blogs with: "So...") I think I start a lot of conversations that way, too. Anyhow, my boys have been gone for two weeks, now. It's not natural, I tell you! I gave birth to them, they've been with me for their entire lives, and it's not right for them to be gone from me for so long! There was a time it was the three of us (me and the two boys) alone against the world! When they were babies and toddlers, they were permanently attached to me physically, for God's sake! I wore them in slings on my body!
*sigh* I don't normally *sigh* like that. But hell....*sigh* I talk to them everyday on the phone....we discuss every little thing...they've been worried about Dixie and are very relieved that we found her....they are very disgusted that their step-sister is taking Driver's Ed....they are terrified that I've gone through their bedrooms and thrown everything away....they haven't been taken to do even 1/4 of what the Sphincter promised to take them to do...(of course). I doubt they are bathing regularly or brushing their teeth, but I know they are eating and getting as many video games as they can play. (Oh what a relief.)
The eldest tries to sound very nonchalant, and who knows? Perhaps he is quite nonchalant and carefree and would happily live with inanimate objects and strangers forever and never need me or have the need to hug me or hear me say "I love you" again. Who knows? Perhaps that is how freeing it is to be almost 15 and male. I know he'd happily never bathe again...but it has always been my job to thwart him...at least that is what he thinks.
My phone conversations with him go like this:
Me: Hi, Sweetie! (then I'll realize I sound too perky and try to tone it down...) I mean...Hey..there...Hi...Um, Hey.
Him: Uh, hey Mom...mumble mumble grumble.smack smack chomp mumble
Me: How are you? Are you doing okay?
Him: Huh? Whu? Uh...mumble mumble *distorted noises and muffled sounds*
Me: What? I couldn't hear you...I miss you! Are you having fun?
Him: What? oh, yeah. yeah.
Me: What?
Him: Huh?
Me: i said: I miss you. Are you okay?
Him: Yeah..you need to relax, mom....I mean..mumble mumble mumble smack smack
Me: Are you eating something?
Him: Huh? Smack....smack....
Me: Nevermind...what have you been doing?
Him: Nuthin'. mumble mumble....yeah...hit the right arrow..now hit the mumble mumble...no..not like that....here give it to me...what?
Me: Are you playing a video game while you're on the phone?
Him: Huh? No! I told you not to go down that hall! The thousand headed troglodyte of doom is down there! You need the flame thrower with twelve lives to defeat him!
What? No. I'm not playing a video game, why?
Me: Well, I love you...is your brother ready to talk to me now?
Him: Who? NOOOO!!!!!!! Not THAT button! I TOLD you!!!!!
Me: Dude. Put your brother on the phone.
Him: Yeah. Ok. Love ya, Mom.
Me: I love you, too.
Then the youngest gets on the phone;
Him: Hi Mommy!
Me: Hey, Baby!
Him: I think it's going to thunderstorm here, and there is a tornado warning for the two counties over from us...do you think I should go in the storm cellar?
Me: No...not if your Dad thinks it's okay. If the storm is far away, don't worry. Are you having fun?
Him: Yeah! We went to the lake, and we rode some horses and we rode go-karts and we have done lots of stuff! Granny is going to take us to the movies, too!
Me: Good. Make your brother leave the video games and go with you, though, okay?
Him: Right.
Me: So, what are you going to do tomorrow? Anything fun?
Him: hang on. i'll go ask.
Me: No! Don't go ask...wait!
to late. he puts the phone down and leaves to go ask.
he comes back a few minutes later to tell me:
Him: We're not sure what we'll do yet. When am i coming home? I miss you.
One more week. I just gotta hold out one more week. I tell ya, this ain't natural.
I want my babies
So, we got our puppy back. But my sons are still up north with the Sphincter. ( I just realized tonight that I start a substantial amount of my Blogs with: "So...") I think I start a lot of conversations that way, too. Anyhow, my boys have been gone for two weeks, now. It's not natural, I tell you! I gave birth to them, they've been with me for their entire lives, and it's not right for them to be gone from me for so long! There was a time it was the three of us (me and the two boys) alone against the world! When they were babies and toddlers, they were permanently attached to me physically, for God's sake! I wore them in slings on my body!
*sigh* I don't normally *sigh* like that. But hell....*sigh* I talk to them everyday on the phone....we discuss every little thing...they've been worried about Dixie and are very relieved that we found her....they are very disgusted that their step-sister is taking Driver's Ed....they are terrified that I've gone through their bedrooms and thrown everything away....they haven't been taken to do even 1/4 of what the Sphincter promised to take them to do...(of course). I doubt they are bathing regularly or brushing their teeth, but I know they are eating and getting as many video games as they can play. (Oh what a relief.)
The eldest tries to sound very nonchalant, and who knows? Perhaps he is quite nonchalant and carefree and would happily live with inanimate objects and strangers forever and never need me or have the need to hug me or hear me say "I love you" again. Who knows? Perhaps that is how freeing it is to be almost 15 and male. I know he'd happily never bathe again...but it has always been my job to thwart him...at least that is what he thinks.
My phone conversations with him go like this:
Me: Hi, Sweetie! (then I'll realize I sound too perky and try to tone it down...) I mean...Hey..there...Hi...Um, Hey.
Him: Uh, hey Mom...mumble mumble grumble.smack smack chomp mumble
Me: How are you? Are you doing okay?
Him: Huh? Whu? Uh...mumble mumble *distorted noises and muffled sounds*
Me: What? I couldn't hear you...I miss you! Are you having fun?
Him: What? oh, yeah. yeah.
Me: What?
Him: Huh?
Me: i said: I miss you. Are you okay?
Him: Yeah..you need to relax, mom....I mean..mumble mumble mumble smack smack
Me: Are you eating something?
Him: Huh? Smack....smack....
Me: Nevermind...what have you been doing?
Him: Nuthin'. mumble mumble....yeah...hit the right arrow..now hit the mumble mumble...no..not like that....here give it to me...what?
Me: Are you playing a video game while you're on the phone?
Him: Huh? No! I told you not to go down that hall! The thousand headed troglodyte of doom is down there! You need the flame thrower with twelve lives to defeat him!
What? No. I'm not playing a video game, why?
Me: Well, I love you...is your brother ready to talk to me now?
Him: Who? NOOOO!!!!!!! Not THAT button! I TOLD you!!!!!
Me: Dude. Put your brother on the phone.
Him: Yeah. Ok. Love ya, Mom.
Me: I love you, too.
Then the youngest gets on the phone;
Him: Hi Mommy!
Me: Hey, Baby!
Him: I think it's going to thunderstorm here, and there is a tornado warning for the two counties over from us...do you think I should go in the storm cellar?
Me: No...not if your Dad thinks it's okay. If the storm is far away, don't worry. Are you having fun?
Him: Yeah! We went to the lake, and we rode some horses and we rode go-karts and we have done lots of stuff! Granny is going to take us to the movies, too!
Me: Good. Make your brother leave the video games and go with you, though, okay?
Him: Right.
Me: So, what are you going to do tomorrow? Anything fun?
Him: hang on. i'll go ask.
Me: No! Don't go ask...wait!
to late. he puts the phone down and leaves to go ask.
he comes back a few minutes later to tell me:
Him: We're not sure what we'll do yet. When am i coming home? I miss you.
One more week. I just gotta hold out one more week. I tell ya, this ain't natural.
June 21, 2007
June 21, 2007
Found
I guess the theme of this is: NEVER GIVE UP.
We found our Dixie. Today. 11 days after she went missing. She looked like absolute CRAP, but we have her back. According to the vet, she has conjunctivitis; swollen lymph nodes, and lots of cockle burrs, but she hasn't lost weight, she isn't dehydrated and somehow, she managed to stay alive amongst coyotes and other wild animals.
She is on antibiotics and eye antibiotics now, she's been bathed, had a drastic haircut and has been sleeping like a baby.
She was in an area about 30 miles away from our house stuck underneath a rock and some bird netting. We got two calls this morning from people who had seen our signs and ads and they said they had seen a Yorkie but she ran from them and they told us the approximate area.
We hauled ass over there, and my Mom did the same since she is closer to that area, and we all met up in the area and began a foot search screaming her name.
My nephew (who is 6) was with me and my daughter, and it was beginning to thunder and rain and we reached a corner and he stopped and I looked down at him and he had his hands pressed together in prayer and his lips were moving and his eyes were closed. I said, "What are you doing, Sweetie?" and he silently continued his prayer. Then he finished, opened his eyes and looked at me and said, "I was prayin' to get Dixie back, Auntie..."
We had already walked past this particular area, and right then, my daughter said, "Why....look at that little face..." and there was Dixie peeking at us from under a rock. It was a miracle that she saw her. It really was. Dixie never made a sound. Not a peep. We were calling her, whistling...she never made a sound.
We all began slowly walking up toward the flower bed, and a man walked out on the porch of the house next door. He said, "Hello there...we've been afraid she'd run off...." It was like they were expecting us. We got up to the flower bed and I picked up the rock and realized it was tangled up in the bird netting, too. I picked up Dixie, and we couldn't get the netting untangled from her tags on her harness. She was so covered in cockle burrs and she had mucus in her eyes...but it was Dixie...I asked the man next door if he could please get some scissors so we could cut through the netting. He quickly got a box cutter. He said he had been keeping his eyes open for her because he knew that there was a Yorkie missing.
All behind the houses was wild country with no fences and just mesquite bushes and cactus. I don't know how the 5 pound baby did it, but she travelled probably more than 10 miles. We've had horrible weather during the time she's been out, and the rain is probably why she wasn't dehydrated. I hate to think what she's eaten, but she is a brave, tough little dog. I can't believe she didn't get swarmed by fire ants or any other horrible thing.
We've spent the day taking care of her, and thanking people who helped find her and spread the word about her. We've called all the animal shelters, animal rescues and kind people who have helped us, and I can't even begin to describe how many kind people out there who have helped us locate Dixie. Her Microchip number is now registered*duh*.
It's amazing how our collective mood changed in a split second. Thanks to all of you who spared thoughts and prayers for Dixie's safe return.
Currently listening:
Home
By Dixie Chicks
Found
I guess the theme of this is: NEVER GIVE UP.
We found our Dixie. Today. 11 days after she went missing. She looked like absolute CRAP, but we have her back. According to the vet, she has conjunctivitis; swollen lymph nodes, and lots of cockle burrs, but she hasn't lost weight, she isn't dehydrated and somehow, she managed to stay alive amongst coyotes and other wild animals.
She is on antibiotics and eye antibiotics now, she's been bathed, had a drastic haircut and has been sleeping like a baby.
She was in an area about 30 miles away from our house stuck underneath a rock and some bird netting. We got two calls this morning from people who had seen our signs and ads and they said they had seen a Yorkie but she ran from them and they told us the approximate area.
We hauled ass over there, and my Mom did the same since she is closer to that area, and we all met up in the area and began a foot search screaming her name.
My nephew (who is 6) was with me and my daughter, and it was beginning to thunder and rain and we reached a corner and he stopped and I looked down at him and he had his hands pressed together in prayer and his lips were moving and his eyes were closed. I said, "What are you doing, Sweetie?" and he silently continued his prayer. Then he finished, opened his eyes and looked at me and said, "I was prayin' to get Dixie back, Auntie..."
We had already walked past this particular area, and right then, my daughter said, "Why....look at that little face..." and there was Dixie peeking at us from under a rock. It was a miracle that she saw her. It really was. Dixie never made a sound. Not a peep. We were calling her, whistling...she never made a sound.
We all began slowly walking up toward the flower bed, and a man walked out on the porch of the house next door. He said, "Hello there...we've been afraid she'd run off...." It was like they were expecting us. We got up to the flower bed and I picked up the rock and realized it was tangled up in the bird netting, too. I picked up Dixie, and we couldn't get the netting untangled from her tags on her harness. She was so covered in cockle burrs and she had mucus in her eyes...but it was Dixie...I asked the man next door if he could please get some scissors so we could cut through the netting. He quickly got a box cutter. He said he had been keeping his eyes open for her because he knew that there was a Yorkie missing.
All behind the houses was wild country with no fences and just mesquite bushes and cactus. I don't know how the 5 pound baby did it, but she travelled probably more than 10 miles. We've had horrible weather during the time she's been out, and the rain is probably why she wasn't dehydrated. I hate to think what she's eaten, but she is a brave, tough little dog. I can't believe she didn't get swarmed by fire ants or any other horrible thing.
We've spent the day taking care of her, and thanking people who helped find her and spread the word about her. We've called all the animal shelters, animal rescues and kind people who have helped us, and I can't even begin to describe how many kind people out there who have helped us locate Dixie. Her Microchip number is now registered*duh*.
It's amazing how our collective mood changed in a split second. Thanks to all of you who spared thoughts and prayers for Dixie's safe return.
Currently listening:
Home
By Dixie Chicks
June 17, 2007
June 17, 2007
Current mood: sad
Category: Pets and Animals
So, we had to go out of town. We left two of our dogs home and had someone come in and check on them. We have a dog door, so they were able to get in and out, etc. However, our smallest dog...the Yorkshire Terrier...we took over to my Mom's house. We felt that she would be better off with people all the time. She is less than 5 pounds and very spoiled and we just felt that she needed extra care, right?
Well...on the 5th day we were gone, my Mom calls me and says,
Mom: "What are you doing?"
Me: "We just got back from a museum...."
Mom: *sigh* "Oh, I just don't know how to tell you this......"
Me: Ohmygod. Tell me. Just tell me. What? What? OHMYGOD! WHAT?
Mom: Dixie got out. We can't find her. I just don't know what to do....
Me: Oh, shit. How long ago? Have you called her?
Mom: Ohhhhh...
Me: Just go outside and call her, she'll come. She's never run off before!
Mom: Ohhhhh......
Me: What? What? How long ago?
Mom: Yesterday morning.
Me: What?!?!? You mean MONDAY morning? And this is what? What? Tuesday evening????? Oh.my god!!!!!!! Well, we have to do something...we have to....ummmm..I have to well...she is microchipped and we have to call the vet and tell them she is missing and you have to put up signs and you have to...
Mom: We've put up signs and I'll call the vet right now..
So...I gave her our vet's name and number which the dog has on her harness, of course. Then, I had to tell Sanford. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of all the things that could have happened to a 4 pound Yorkie in the Texas hill country. How did she get out? Nobody knows. Nobody had seen her. We have combed every square acre, inch and millimeter of scrub brush from our house to my Mother's house for her. We have gotten people's permission to go on their property that is just wild empty country, we have looked for buzzards circling, we have gone at night with spotlights, we have literally done EVERYTHING we can do. And we now don't know what else to do. We have put up signs, we have offered rewards, we have put advertisements in area newspapers, we've put ads in internet publications....we've done EVERYTHING. Being microchipped is no good if nobody brings her in.
One couple claim they saw her 4 days ago on their ranch, so we spent yesterday combing 9 acres with absolutely no sign of her. And to have been there, she would have had to cross 2 busy state highways and then hoofed it over several acres of rough country.
She is so tiny, but very bossy. She is recently spayed, she is wearing a bright pink harness, and she doesn't have a typical Yorkie haircut. She answers to "Dixie". She is part of my heart. She was last seen in Georgetown, Texas...specifically the "Village" subdivision, which is near Sun City. There is a substantial reward for her safe return..no questions asked. Her tags say "Town and Country Vet" and have the phone number for the vet on them.
I won't even go into how Sanford is acting. That's for another Blog altogether.
Current mood: sad
Category: Pets and Animals
So, we had to go out of town. We left two of our dogs home and had someone come in and check on them. We have a dog door, so they were able to get in and out, etc. However, our smallest dog...the Yorkshire Terrier...we took over to my Mom's house. We felt that she would be better off with people all the time. She is less than 5 pounds and very spoiled and we just felt that she needed extra care, right?
Well...on the 5th day we were gone, my Mom calls me and says,
Mom: "What are you doing?"
Me: "We just got back from a museum...."
Mom: *sigh* "Oh, I just don't know how to tell you this......"
Me: Ohmygod. Tell me. Just tell me. What? What? OHMYGOD! WHAT?
Mom: Dixie got out. We can't find her. I just don't know what to do....
Me: Oh, shit. How long ago? Have you called her?
Mom: Ohhhhh...
Me: Just go outside and call her, she'll come. She's never run off before!
Mom: Ohhhhh......
Me: What? What? How long ago?
Mom: Yesterday morning.
Me: What?!?!? You mean MONDAY morning? And this is what? What? Tuesday evening????? Oh.my god!!!!!!! Well, we have to do something...we have to....ummmm..I have to well...she is microchipped and we have to call the vet and tell them she is missing and you have to put up signs and you have to...
Mom: We've put up signs and I'll call the vet right now..
So...I gave her our vet's name and number which the dog has on her harness, of course. Then, I had to tell Sanford. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of all the things that could have happened to a 4 pound Yorkie in the Texas hill country. How did she get out? Nobody knows. Nobody had seen her. We have combed every square acre, inch and millimeter of scrub brush from our house to my Mother's house for her. We have gotten people's permission to go on their property that is just wild empty country, we have looked for buzzards circling, we have gone at night with spotlights, we have literally done EVERYTHING we can do. And we now don't know what else to do. We have put up signs, we have offered rewards, we have put advertisements in area newspapers, we've put ads in internet publications....we've done EVERYTHING. Being microchipped is no good if nobody brings her in.
One couple claim they saw her 4 days ago on their ranch, so we spent yesterday combing 9 acres with absolutely no sign of her. And to have been there, she would have had to cross 2 busy state highways and then hoofed it over several acres of rough country.
She is so tiny, but very bossy. She is recently spayed, she is wearing a bright pink harness, and she doesn't have a typical Yorkie haircut. She answers to "Dixie". She is part of my heart. She was last seen in Georgetown, Texas...specifically the "Village" subdivision, which is near Sun City. There is a substantial reward for her safe return..no questions asked. Her tags say "Town and Country Vet" and have the phone number for the vet on them.
I won't even go into how Sanford is acting. That's for another Blog altogether.
June 5, 2007
June 05, 2007
Packing
So, I just had to pack. When I pack, I don't just pack for myself. I have to pack for the kids, and then to make sure Sanford hasn't forgotten something essential like....clothing...I have to check his packing. I hate to pack. It's almost enough to make me not travel.
I was getting stuff ready this morning to pack for my two boys and I told them, "Go get all of your shorts and shirts and underwear so I can pack them.." about ...ohhhhhhh I don't know an hour later, after I had to go hunt them down, they present themselves to me with a grand total of 2 pair of shorts and 3 shirts and 1 pair of underwear BETWEEN THEM.
Me: What the hell?
Boys: *shrug*
Me: Where are y'alls clothes?
Boy 1: I don't have any.
Boy 2: I don't know where mine are.
Me: *silence because I was attempting to not wig out*
Now, I do laundry. All the effin' time. I fold clothes and give them to their owners to put away. Daily. I may not cook, I may not clean..yes I'm spoiled. I have maids...but I do laundry. I also shop. I know that these people have clothing. Lots of it.
I took a few deep, cleansing, Yogic breaths and said:
Me: Bullcrap...go get your stuff or I'll go get it and you won't like it if I go in your rooms and start looking for stuff.
Both boys: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! MOM! Please!
Me: *through clenched teeth* THEN.GO.GET.YOUR.THINGS.
They scurry off to do my bidding. Meanwhile, I go get a load of laundry out to fold, switch clothes from washer to dryer, put a new load in the washer and come back to fold. The boys reappear. Sans clothing, I might add.
Me: *furiously folding towels* Where.Are.Your.Clothes?
Boy 1: I'll handle this...
Me: I'm gonna handle both of y'all in about two seconds...
Boy 2: Mom, mom....listen....
Me: I'm gonna go in there and I'm gonna throw everything you own out...INCLUDING ALL VIDEO GAME SYSTEMS AND COMPUTERS....and...
Both: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! *scurry scurry*
I get towels put away and they both come back looking terrified and helpless.
Me: THAT'S IT! I go stomping through the house into the youngest boy's room. Don't feel sorry for him, he's 11 years old. I start picking up random pieces of clothing on his floor and yelling and hollering. At my order, her got a trash bag to begin a bag of clothing that no longer fits for Goodwill, and then we started a new pile of stuff so dusty and icky that it needed laundering AGAIN. I was hollering and berating the whole time. He was happy as hell saying stuff like.."OH! That's where that was!" My husband is standing in the door glowering at him. (but not helping..) The oldest boy seeing that I was fed up has disappeared into his cave to find his clothes and clean his room...FINALLY.
Here is what I found in my youngest's room:
1. Size 2T underpants. (Remember he is 11 and huge. He wears a men's size 32 waist pants)
2. His 1st two years of Tball shirts. He wants to keep using them as nightshirts. He weights well over 100 pounds. These are shirts for 5 year olds.
3. PROBABLY 20 PAIR OF SOCKS. Every morning during school, he'd come in and say, "I don't have any clean socks!" I bought new socks every damned week, I swear. ALL OF THE SOCKS I FOUND WERE CLEAN AND BRAND NEW.
Little turd. I didn't find a little turd, although that wouldn't have surprised me.
4.Wrappings, boxes, plastic from various toys...in other words...TRASH.
5. His mattress pad. Stuffed in a toy box. I sniffed it. No weird smell. I have a blacklight to check for dog pee. I turned off his lights and swept it over the mattress pad. No stains. So, no reason for him to just rip that sucker off and hide it. Plus, I am very candid with my kids and both boys know if they ever wake up with wet sheets, just yank them off and put them in the laundry and there will be no questions asked. SO NO EXCUSE FOR A MATTRESS PAD IN THE TOY BOX. He is just a slob.
I have raised a slob. God help me.
So, then after all this is done, we see that Son #2 has more than enough clothes, but oldest son doesn't because his school wears uniforms. So, off we fly to by a bunch of shorts and shirts. But he doesn't want to go, because he really and truly does not give a rat's ass what he wears. So, now I'm back, and they are packed and I have to turn them over to the sperm donor asshat sphincter in a few days. I hate him.
And he won't even make sure they CHANGE THEIR CLOTHES. Much less brush their teeth. And my oldest son just got his braces off and let me tell you...that is one gorgeous kid. Well, they are both gorgeous, but that smile on the oldest one...WOWZA.
I hate packing.
Currently listening:
The Beatles' Greatest Hits
By John & Paul McCartney Lennon
Release date: 15 February, 1995
Packing
So, I just had to pack. When I pack, I don't just pack for myself. I have to pack for the kids, and then to make sure Sanford hasn't forgotten something essential like....clothing...I have to check his packing. I hate to pack. It's almost enough to make me not travel.
I was getting stuff ready this morning to pack for my two boys and I told them, "Go get all of your shorts and shirts and underwear so I can pack them.." about ...ohhhhhhh I don't know an hour later, after I had to go hunt them down, they present themselves to me with a grand total of 2 pair of shorts and 3 shirts and 1 pair of underwear BETWEEN THEM.
Me: What the hell?
Boys: *shrug*
Me: Where are y'alls clothes?
Boy 1: I don't have any.
Boy 2: I don't know where mine are.
Me: *silence because I was attempting to not wig out*
Now, I do laundry. All the effin' time. I fold clothes and give them to their owners to put away. Daily. I may not cook, I may not clean..yes I'm spoiled. I have maids...but I do laundry. I also shop. I know that these people have clothing. Lots of it.
I took a few deep, cleansing, Yogic breaths and said:
Me: Bullcrap...go get your stuff or I'll go get it and you won't like it if I go in your rooms and start looking for stuff.
Both boys: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! MOM! Please!
Me: *through clenched teeth* THEN.GO.GET.YOUR.THINGS.
They scurry off to do my bidding. Meanwhile, I go get a load of laundry out to fold, switch clothes from washer to dryer, put a new load in the washer and come back to fold. The boys reappear. Sans clothing, I might add.
Me: *furiously folding towels* Where.Are.Your.Clothes?
Boy 1: I'll handle this...
Me: I'm gonna handle both of y'all in about two seconds...
Boy 2: Mom, mom....listen....
Me: I'm gonna go in there and I'm gonna throw everything you own out...INCLUDING ALL VIDEO GAME SYSTEMS AND COMPUTERS....and...
Both: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! *scurry scurry*
I get towels put away and they both come back looking terrified and helpless.
Me: THAT'S IT! I go stomping through the house into the youngest boy's room. Don't feel sorry for him, he's 11 years old. I start picking up random pieces of clothing on his floor and yelling and hollering. At my order, her got a trash bag to begin a bag of clothing that no longer fits for Goodwill, and then we started a new pile of stuff so dusty and icky that it needed laundering AGAIN. I was hollering and berating the whole time. He was happy as hell saying stuff like.."OH! That's where that was!" My husband is standing in the door glowering at him. (but not helping..) The oldest boy seeing that I was fed up has disappeared into his cave to find his clothes and clean his room...FINALLY.
Here is what I found in my youngest's room:
1. Size 2T underpants. (Remember he is 11 and huge. He wears a men's size 32 waist pants)
2. His 1st two years of Tball shirts. He wants to keep using them as nightshirts. He weights well over 100 pounds. These are shirts for 5 year olds.
3. PROBABLY 20 PAIR OF SOCKS. Every morning during school, he'd come in and say, "I don't have any clean socks!" I bought new socks every damned week, I swear. ALL OF THE SOCKS I FOUND WERE CLEAN AND BRAND NEW.
Little turd. I didn't find a little turd, although that wouldn't have surprised me.
4.Wrappings, boxes, plastic from various toys...in other words...TRASH.
5. His mattress pad. Stuffed in a toy box. I sniffed it. No weird smell. I have a blacklight to check for dog pee. I turned off his lights and swept it over the mattress pad. No stains. So, no reason for him to just rip that sucker off and hide it. Plus, I am very candid with my kids and both boys know if they ever wake up with wet sheets, just yank them off and put them in the laundry and there will be no questions asked. SO NO EXCUSE FOR A MATTRESS PAD IN THE TOY BOX. He is just a slob.
I have raised a slob. God help me.
So, then after all this is done, we see that Son #2 has more than enough clothes, but oldest son doesn't because his school wears uniforms. So, off we fly to by a bunch of shorts and shirts. But he doesn't want to go, because he really and truly does not give a rat's ass what he wears. So, now I'm back, and they are packed and I have to turn them over to the sperm donor asshat sphincter in a few days. I hate him.
And he won't even make sure they CHANGE THEIR CLOTHES. Much less brush their teeth. And my oldest son just got his braces off and let me tell you...that is one gorgeous kid. Well, they are both gorgeous, but that smile on the oldest one...WOWZA.
I hate packing.
Currently listening:
The Beatles' Greatest Hits
By John & Paul McCartney Lennon
Release date: 15 February, 1995
June 3, 2007
June 03, 2007
Just wanna say...
The lady who wanted "accomodating" at WalMart yesterday was AWESOME, people. She was about 4'11'' with two little toddlers and she was takin' NO SHIT. Her husband is probably deployed to Iraq (as most men in my town are...thank you G.W., you asshole.) and she demanded accomodation. I heart her.
That is all.
Just wanna say...
The lady who wanted "accomodating" at WalMart yesterday was AWESOME, people. She was about 4'11'' with two little toddlers and she was takin' NO SHIT. Her husband is probably deployed to Iraq (as most men in my town are...thank you G.W., you asshole.) and she demanded accomodation. I heart her.
That is all.
June 2, 2007
June 02, 2007
Evil tidings from Conglomo Mart
Hey. Guess what? I watched "Smokin' Aces". I've seen that damned movie. But only parts. I must have fallen asleep and then woken up and watched parts and then gone back to sleep because the stupid assed movie SUCKED ASS.
Today, we needed to go get some junk for my kid's impending trip to see the man who actually contributed the sperm that resulted in these outlandishly wondrous human beings who are my sons. Thank GOD they bear absolutely NO resemblance to the Sphincter. Believe me, I get down on my knees daily and give thanks.
Anyhow, it's time for their yearly trip to go do whatever it is that Jackhole does with him up North where the Asshat lives. So, I proposed that we wait until tomorrow to go, but Sanford said, "let's go now..Walmart is open 24 hours a day!" *Remember that this is not always a plus..weird assed jackoffs shop at strange hours*
So, we go to get a few things the boys need for their trip. While we're there, I say, "Hey, Miller just came out with a new beer that's supposed to be like a Chelada! Ima go see if they have it!" and I limp/scurried back to the beer section to see if they did. Sanford followed me saying "huh?" As I was attempting to explain the wonders of an icy cold concoction of Mexican beer with lime juice and salt....I come upon the Miller dude..he is stocking the case and I say..."Hey! They have it!" and I grab a 6 pack and put it in our cart...we start to walk off and the Miller dude says, "You want more?" and I say "Excuse me?" and he says, "I have more! It's brand new and I can't keep the stores stocked! But you're lucky! I have a lot right now!" And he smiles this really happy smile. I said, "Um, no...just the one will be fine..but thanks!" and I turned to walk away AGAIN...*remember I'm not a small talker....*
So, he says..."Just a hint....." and so I turn BACK to him and I stop and smile....and he says.."You gotta get the beer COLD....really, really..ummmm...cold."
I was just standing there. I said, "Cold. Right. Got it. Thanks!" And I turned around to leave yet again...Sanford had booked it already to go get coffee creamer. So, I'm left alone to make small talk with the beer dude. And beer dude evidently is one lonely man. Because he stops me yet again to make sure I realize that cold is the opposite of hot. Cold means icy. Put it in the refrigerator..make it NOT HOT. I seriously think he may have been sampling the product.
So, I finally get back to Sanford who had wandered way the fuck far away. I could get kidnapped and he would never notice...I swear. We go to checkout. He chooses a lane that is so fucking crowded, that there is NO way he is going to get the cart down that little gauntlet of people and carts and magazine displays and crap without A: hitting someone or B: knocking some shit down.
So, he plows his ass right on ahead. Sure enough, he hits this woman....and he is muttering, "Scuse me, scuse me, scuse me..." just sort of randomly...and the woman he hit was with another woman and her friend is grabbing her saying, "For God's sake, git out the way, girl!" and I'm coming behind him saying, "Oh, my God, I am SO SORRY!" and I'm poking him and saying, "Stop it!" so after he hits this woman, he hits the display of the stupid assed Farmer's Almanac and knocks it OFF THE BASE OF IT'S DISPLAY scattering fucking Farmer's Almanacs from here to fucking Georgia and I live nowhere near Georgia, people.
So, he struts his ass up to the checkout , and as he does, I walk up behind him and I am looking at the cashier because I know that if the cashier looks dead, chances are I'm going to be there awhile. Well, I also was chastising him for causing bodily harm and property destruction on his way to the fucking checkout....the lady he rammed came (and I'm not making this shit up...)LIMPING past us, and I whispered to him, "Look! Look at that! She is either disabled or you MADE HER LIMP, YOU ASSHAT!"
He.did.not.even.care. He fucking SHRUGGED HIS SHOULDERS! Can you even believe that?
I was absolutely flabbergasted. So, back to the cashier he was so EAGER TO REACH. She is punching the buttons on her computer...and the customer is punching the buttons on the credit card scanner thing. They are both actually HITTING the buttons exceptionally hard and they are both talking to each other through gritted teeth. This is what they are saying:
Cashier: stop pushing those buttons..*punch*
Customer: YOU stop pushing buttons!*punch*
Cashier: i'm telling you, if you don't stop, you'll freeze up the machine!*punch*
Customer: stop pushing the buttons!*punch*
Cashier: YOU stop pushing the buttons!*punch*
Me: *snort* THIS is the best line in the store.....great choice, man.
Sanford: WHAT? HUH? *he's deaf*
Cashier: *flipping the light switch on her light pole* Well, now it's frozen! It's FROZEN....*looking at me* IT'S FROZEN! YOU'LL HAVE TO MOVE!
Me: I'm not moving. We already unloaded all our stuff...unfreeze the thing!
Customer: Can't you just turn it off and then turn it back on?
Me: Yeah...like is it broken FOREVER? Nobody can ever use it ever again?
Lady who had just rolled up behind us: ARE YOU GOING TO ACCOMODATE US? THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO KNOW! WHO IS GOING TO ACCOMODATE US!
Sanford: HUH? ACCLIMATE?
Me: Nevermind...Listen, can't you just reboot the stupid computer or whatever?
Lady behind me: I know I'm not carrying all these groceries anywhere else!
Customer: This is RIDICULOUS!
Customer's surly teenaged daughter: This FRICKIN' LADY IS A BITCH! (referring to cashier) although I agreed with her I was appalled her mother didn't drop kick her right there.
So, they finally moved all of us to REGISTER 18! REGISTER 18, PEOPLE! And I told them they would have to put all of my stuff back in my cart and MOVE MY CART and UNLOAD MY CART . So they did because I had the most unstable man on the planet with me. The little lady who was behind me was accomodated, as well. I told them, "YOU BETTER ACCOMODATE HER, TOO!" and she said, "I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT!"
And I'd be willing to bet that before we had even walked out the door...the original cash register was back up and running, and that all they did was turn it off and on. Dumbasses. I hate that place. HATE IT.
And oh, hey...while I'm thinking about it...does your Ipod ever just go wild and refuse to play certain songs? Like you put it on Shuffle and it will shuffle for like 30 seconds and then play only some songs, but won't play others? And you have to hook it back up to your computer for it to like reset or something?
Yeah. Why does it do that? And how can I get it to stop. I've had it for what...2 years or something and I hate that.
And how much extra would it cost me to hop over to Amsterdam while I'm in England? Just for a day or two? If you are nice, do the research for me. Or if you live in Amsterdam...and want to like pick me up at the airport and take me to a "coffee shop" and then take me back to the airport...lemme know. I need an Amsterdam break in a really bad way.
Evil tidings from Conglomo Mart
Hey. Guess what? I watched "Smokin' Aces". I've seen that damned movie. But only parts. I must have fallen asleep and then woken up and watched parts and then gone back to sleep because the stupid assed movie SUCKED ASS.
Today, we needed to go get some junk for my kid's impending trip to see the man who actually contributed the sperm that resulted in these outlandishly wondrous human beings who are my sons. Thank GOD they bear absolutely NO resemblance to the Sphincter. Believe me, I get down on my knees daily and give thanks.
Anyhow, it's time for their yearly trip to go do whatever it is that Jackhole does with him up North where the Asshat lives. So, I proposed that we wait until tomorrow to go, but Sanford said, "let's go now..Walmart is open 24 hours a day!" *Remember that this is not always a plus..weird assed jackoffs shop at strange hours*
So, we go to get a few things the boys need for their trip. While we're there, I say, "Hey, Miller just came out with a new beer that's supposed to be like a Chelada! Ima go see if they have it!" and I limp/scurried back to the beer section to see if they did. Sanford followed me saying "huh?" As I was attempting to explain the wonders of an icy cold concoction of Mexican beer with lime juice and salt....I come upon the Miller dude..he is stocking the case and I say..."Hey! They have it!" and I grab a 6 pack and put it in our cart...we start to walk off and the Miller dude says, "You want more?" and I say "Excuse me?" and he says, "I have more! It's brand new and I can't keep the stores stocked! But you're lucky! I have a lot right now!" And he smiles this really happy smile. I said, "Um, no...just the one will be fine..but thanks!" and I turned to walk away AGAIN...*remember I'm not a small talker....*
So, he says..."Just a hint....." and so I turn BACK to him and I stop and smile....and he says.."You gotta get the beer COLD....really, really..ummmm...cold."
I was just standing there. I said, "Cold. Right. Got it. Thanks!" And I turned around to leave yet again...Sanford had booked it already to go get coffee creamer. So, I'm left alone to make small talk with the beer dude. And beer dude evidently is one lonely man. Because he stops me yet again to make sure I realize that cold is the opposite of hot. Cold means icy. Put it in the refrigerator..make it NOT HOT. I seriously think he may have been sampling the product.
So, I finally get back to Sanford who had wandered way the fuck far away. I could get kidnapped and he would never notice...I swear. We go to checkout. He chooses a lane that is so fucking crowded, that there is NO way he is going to get the cart down that little gauntlet of people and carts and magazine displays and crap without A: hitting someone or B: knocking some shit down.
So, he plows his ass right on ahead. Sure enough, he hits this woman....and he is muttering, "Scuse me, scuse me, scuse me..." just sort of randomly...and the woman he hit was with another woman and her friend is grabbing her saying, "For God's sake, git out the way, girl!" and I'm coming behind him saying, "Oh, my God, I am SO SORRY!" and I'm poking him and saying, "Stop it!" so after he hits this woman, he hits the display of the stupid assed Farmer's Almanac and knocks it OFF THE BASE OF IT'S DISPLAY scattering fucking Farmer's Almanacs from here to fucking Georgia and I live nowhere near Georgia, people.
So, he struts his ass up to the checkout , and as he does, I walk up behind him and I am looking at the cashier because I know that if the cashier looks dead, chances are I'm going to be there awhile. Well, I also was chastising him for causing bodily harm and property destruction on his way to the fucking checkout....the lady he rammed came (and I'm not making this shit up...)LIMPING past us, and I whispered to him, "Look! Look at that! She is either disabled or you MADE HER LIMP, YOU ASSHAT!"
He.did.not.even.care. He fucking SHRUGGED HIS SHOULDERS! Can you even believe that?
I was absolutely flabbergasted. So, back to the cashier he was so EAGER TO REACH. She is punching the buttons on her computer...and the customer is punching the buttons on the credit card scanner thing. They are both actually HITTING the buttons exceptionally hard and they are both talking to each other through gritted teeth. This is what they are saying:
Cashier: stop pushing those buttons..*punch*
Customer: YOU stop pushing buttons!*punch*
Cashier: i'm telling you, if you don't stop, you'll freeze up the machine!*punch*
Customer: stop pushing the buttons!*punch*
Cashier: YOU stop pushing the buttons!*punch*
Me: *snort* THIS is the best line in the store.....great choice, man.
Sanford: WHAT? HUH? *he's deaf*
Cashier: *flipping the light switch on her light pole* Well, now it's frozen! It's FROZEN....*looking at me* IT'S FROZEN! YOU'LL HAVE TO MOVE!
Me: I'm not moving. We already unloaded all our stuff...unfreeze the thing!
Customer: Can't you just turn it off and then turn it back on?
Me: Yeah...like is it broken FOREVER? Nobody can ever use it ever again?
Lady who had just rolled up behind us: ARE YOU GOING TO ACCOMODATE US? THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO KNOW! WHO IS GOING TO ACCOMODATE US!
Sanford: HUH? ACCLIMATE?
Me: Nevermind...Listen, can't you just reboot the stupid computer or whatever?
Lady behind me: I know I'm not carrying all these groceries anywhere else!
Customer: This is RIDICULOUS!
Customer's surly teenaged daughter: This FRICKIN' LADY IS A BITCH! (referring to cashier) although I agreed with her I was appalled her mother didn't drop kick her right there.
So, they finally moved all of us to REGISTER 18! REGISTER 18, PEOPLE! And I told them they would have to put all of my stuff back in my cart and MOVE MY CART and UNLOAD MY CART . So they did because I had the most unstable man on the planet with me. The little lady who was behind me was accomodated, as well. I told them, "YOU BETTER ACCOMODATE HER, TOO!" and she said, "I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT!"
And I'd be willing to bet that before we had even walked out the door...the original cash register was back up and running, and that all they did was turn it off and on. Dumbasses. I hate that place. HATE IT.
And oh, hey...while I'm thinking about it...does your Ipod ever just go wild and refuse to play certain songs? Like you put it on Shuffle and it will shuffle for like 30 seconds and then play only some songs, but won't play others? And you have to hook it back up to your computer for it to like reset or something?
Yeah. Why does it do that? And how can I get it to stop. I've had it for what...2 years or something and I hate that.
And how much extra would it cost me to hop over to Amsterdam while I'm in England? Just for a day or two? If you are nice, do the research for me. Or if you live in Amsterdam...and want to like pick me up at the airport and take me to a "coffee shop" and then take me back to the airport...lemme know. I need an Amsterdam break in a really bad way.
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