WHAT IS MY DAMNED ACCOUNT NUMBER??

For some reason, the past two nights, I have fallen into a coma-like state at approximately 6:30 pm. I am always watching "24"...hmmm? Anyhow, my husband wakes me up and I stumble into bed. I drift off yet again. Not last night. I got back to a deep, deep sleep. The type of wondrous sleep where when you wake up you don't know who you are or where you are or how you got there, but there is no booze involved. Just deep sleep.

My phone rang. I didn't hear it. My husband heard it. Of course, having "Let It Be" by the Beatles as my ringtone sort of makes sure I don't hear it ring. Anyhow, it stopped ringing, I guess. Then it started again, so my husband woke me up. I fumbled around hollering, "Wha? Huh?" and picked up the phone. It was a person who sounded familiar, but their voice was amazingly LOUD. I realized it was because my phone was plugged into my speakers so I could listen to my thunderstorm all night because I'm neurotic, and as a result, his voice was amplified. That confused the hell out of me. Then I got mad that he would call so LATE! Um, wrong. It was 7:30.

It was my youngest son. Awww..he was calling to say he missed me and loved me. WRONG. Here is the conversation:

Ty: MOM!
Me: WHAT?
TY: WHAT ARE YOU DOING???
Me: sleeping...why are you up so late?
TY: MOM, IT'S 7:30!
Me: No way.
TY: Way.
Me: Ok. What.
TY: WHAT'S MY ACCOUNT NUMBER?????
Me: *?*
TY: MOM???? WHAT'S MY ACCOUNT NUMBER???

Now, it was still dark in the room, and I had no EFFING CLUE WHAT THE CHILD WAS TALKING ABOUT. I got the lamp turned on and my husband was sitting there asking, "What is he talking about?" That helped.

TY: MOM!!!!
Me: What account number?
TY: COME ON, MOM!!!! MY ACCOUNT NUMBER!!!
Me: Assuming I know what you are talking about, what do you need an account number for right now?
TY: UGH! MOM!
Me: Don't talk like that to me! I'll hang up.
TY: I NEED MY ACCOUNT NUMBER.

I realize this conversation is A. A dream, or B. Typical Tyler conversation.

I go with B.

Me: What account are you talking about?
TY: MY DEBIT CARD ACCOUNT! GRANNY GAVE ME MONEY AND I NEED TO PUT IT IN THE ACCOUNT!!!!
Me: Now?
TY: YES! NOW!
Me: (assuming some international espionage deal had to do with this account, I began asking where I could find the information.)
TY: YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!!!
Me: You better watch that damned tone.
TY: UGH!
Me: Hang on, Dad is waving some paper in my face.

Sure enough, it was Ty's bank statement. I open it. I can't see shit because I just woke up. I don't have my reading glasses on. Much fumbling and squinting and cussing ensues.

Me: Okay. Here it is...
TY: LET ME GET A PENCIL AND PAPER.
Me: *pissed*
tick tock tick tock
TY: OKAY, GO AHEAD.
Me: blank blank blank, blank blank blank blank, blank blank blank blank.
TY: What?
Me: *repeats number*
TY: Repeats back COMPLETELY INCORRECT NUMBER WITHOUT ANY OF THE ACTUAL CORRECT DIGITS.
Me: NO! I SAID... *repeated correct number slowly and succinctly*
TY: YOU ARE YELLING AT ME!!!
Me: YES I'M YELLING AT YOU! YOU ARE BEING A BRAT AND I'M GOING TO BEAT THE HELL OUT OF YOU WHEN YOU GET OFF THE PLANE!!!
TY: Can you give me the number again, please?
Me: That's better. *I give him the number*
TY: *REPEATS BACK DIFFERENT TOTALLY INCORRECT NUMBER*
Me: I'm going to hang the hell up, Tyler.
TY: NO! ONE MORE TIME!!
Me: Fine. I repeated the damned stupid assed number
TY: HANG ON.

I wait while he attempts to access his account through a computer, I guess. It works. Hallelujah! We can all go back to sleep.
TY: IT WORKED.
Me: Good. Um, do you have anything to say?
TY: IT WORKED.
Me: Tyler?
TY: THANKS. I LOVE YOU.
Me: Better. I love you, too.

End of call. So, this morning, bright and early, I called him and screamed, 'WHAT'S MY ACCOUNT NUMBER????" at him repeatedly. He wasn't amused. Now, to be fair, one reason his voice was so loud was that it was coming through speakers. The other reason is that he is a LOUD TALKER ALL THE TIME. The third reason was that he was being a brat.

Tonight, my boys come home from Chicago. I have missed them. They left on Christmas Eve. I had no Christmas because without my children, why bother? I made him promise not to be a brat and not to fight with his brother when they got off the plane. Especially during the hour ride home. He promised. I forgot to tell you...he lies.

My Majestic Life

I got the bath mats. They are amazing. Not really. They are bath mats. They were on sale and I had a 20 dollar off coupon.

How boring is that? Pretty damned boring. Anyhow, I am supposed to start Grad school January 8. Tuition is due tomorrow. I really do need a new laptop as I can't even update things on this one because the OS is 10.6. My computer outlasted everything. I can do word documents and things, but cannot use peripherals because it's out dated. Do I NEED a new computer? It would be best. Will Wally lose his last ounce of shit if I get one? Undoubtedly. I said, "fine I won't go to grad school...screw it . It isn't worth your hounding me for two years about the money." It's 3 grand for two classes. Yeah, it's expensive. I don't HAVE to have it for my job, although I'd make a teeny bit more money if I did have it. I have no desire to go into administration in my job, so I'm not doing it for that. I wanted to do it for ME. Not good enough. Right now, he is in the other room compiling a WRITTEN (at my behest) list of what the hell we can CUT BACK ON, CUT BACK CUT BACK CUT BACK!! In order to afford it.

Now, let's go over some facts: We own our home. We have no mortgage, no rent, nothing. We own a huge, custom built home outright. We have no debt. We pay cash for our brand new cars. However, we don't do it often. My car is about 10 years old, but with less than 60,000 miles on it. It's like new. His car is a Crap Wagon. Anyhow, we've had them for awhile. We don't get new cars every couple of years. We do not qualify for any financial aid, for God's sake. We are part of that cursed 1% everyone babbles about. Well, maybe 5%. I don't know. We go to Europe. (When he isn't insane). He retired at 46 BECAUSE HE COULD. I work and make a decent living. Basically, I work for insurance, I think. Now, he is mad because he has to use his RETIREMENT MONEY TO SUPPLEMENT MY SALARY, EVEN THOUGH HE IS, IN FACT, RETIRED. JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!!! Am I the ONLY person who sees the insanity in this???? He just presented me with a list of things off our last Discover bill that he thinks should be gotten rid of. An example: Wine. Ha! No.

Next: Eating out. No problem, I rarely do. He and the boys do, but I don't.

Netflix. Fine, I don't care. Whatever with that one.

Stuff I buy for my job. Um, no. Just random shit he found on a bill. No plan on how to CUT BACK CUT BACK CUT BACK. I'm about to lose my mind, quite literally. I am going to go now and make him make a real list. But first, I'll cancel that pricey Netflix that we so callously use while our neighbors go without food. Shit, I won't finish all seasons of "24", now. Dammit. I was on the next to last episode of season one.

I know I'm behind, but hey. Coupla things about Jack Bauer. He whispers a lot. He is unfailingly polite. He says "Thank you" to people shooting at him. He is so nice. Well, this season. I don't know how it plays out. His wife is a pain in the ass and looks like a 12 year old boy. His daughter is boring me. The senator is the Allstate guy. I keep expecting him to ask me if I'm in good hands. HIS wife is a raging bitch.

Well, I guess I'll go, now. Goodbye forever, polite Jack Bauer. I hope you stay as sweet as you are now. Stay away from that lady you work with and her boyfriend. I don't trust them. Dump the wife and daughter. That Allstate guy would make a HORRIBLE president. Unless every speech ended with "Are you in good hands?" That would be pretty awesome.

HEY BITCHES!!! It's me, again. I just ran a 5K. Yes, me. I know, I know...you're amazed. I am, too. It was shorter than I usually run, but when I go do a REAL race, i don't want to be the loser who limps in last, you know?

So, my military cadence songs are getting more familiar. I am getting fond of the "Marine Baby" one. It's a little gross, but hey. What baby doesn't climb down, cut his own umbilical cord and head out the door, then follow the sounds of crying and go in the nursery and inform the babies he won't take anymore squealing and crying and he is the commander of the baby brigade. Because he has a camo diaper,(who put it on him?), black boots, (again, who put those on him?) and AND THREE DIAPER PINS ON HIS COLLAR. Whatever that means. Who uses diaper pins anymore?

I am still pissed off every time one of those stupid duh duh duh duh duh duhhh duh duh duh duh duh duhhhhh duh songs comes on. It makes me want to punch something. I will have to do something about those songs.

I didn't get to all of the questions, so I will answer a couple more here:

From Wayne in Washington: "What's your favorite food?" Well, Wayne, believe it or not, I'm a picky eater. I'd have to say my favorite food would be ice cream, my Mom's chocolate pie or her potato cake. Any of those, I'll never turn down.

From Corinne in Georgia: "Do you use that language in front of children?" Listen up, Corinne. I am a grown ass woman. Of course I don't. Well, just my kids sometimes, and they are grown. Plus, they get mad at me, so obviously I raised them correctly. I do not use it at work in front of other people's children. I have burned myself on glue guns and not said a bad word. Try that! Don't be so sanctimonious. Like you've never flipped anyone off or said, "Fucker!" in traffic. Give me a break. I bet you have a Jesus fish on your car, call yourself "Christian" and "Moral" and then picket abortion clinics but won't adopt one of those babies. Shut up, Corinne.

Whew. Okay, now on to Meg from ...well, I can't tell...is she from Dallas or Ft. Worth? I don't know. Anyhow, Hey Meg. What's your question? Meg: "How many times have you been married?" Well, Meg...that is pretty nosy, but what the hell. I've been married three times. The first one last less than 2 years, but I got a perfectly wondrous child out of it. The second lasted 5 years and I got another perfectly wondrous child. The third...we are in our 14th year together. We have no children together, but have one of those whaddayacallits...blended families. His daughter from his first marriage and my two boys. To be fair, I was never the abuser, cheater or liar. However, if you come home and say "I don't think I love you anymore.." Boy, you better have an apartment ready to go and some plans in place because my FIRST stop is the bank and my SECOND stop is my lawyer. The Wallet isn't like that. He is crazy and loses his temper, but not like hits things or anything. Plus he loses it over stuff like cell phones not working or slow fast food workers.
I don't think I'm very good at marriage, since I've done it three times. However, I must appear to be very marriageable.

From Amanda in Oklahoma : First off, I am sorry you live in Oklahoma...my condolences. " Are you close to your family?" Amanda, Amanda. That is such a complicated question. I'll try. I am very close to my Mom. I am very close to my brother. I am very close to his children, who I am only loaning to him. My father has done things in his life and made choices that make it impossible for me to have a relationship with him. I have funny stories about him from my youth, but that's about it. Now, it's a shit carnival with him. His family? I have no contact with and want none. They are incredibly ignorant people who don't believe in global warming and called sectional furniture "SEXUAL furniture". You see my problem with them, I assume. Plus, all their kids come out EFFED UP. I won't go into details, just trust me. He has interesting history in his family...ancestors and such. That's about it. My Mom has a huge family. She is one of 9 kids. My grandparents were two of my favorite people and I miss them so much. BUUUUT, when you have that many kids, they end up insane. They compete for attention all their lives and they end up insane. I don't know how else to put it. Plus, mental illness runs in the family there.

From Terrence in Idaho: "Do you have a favorite sports team?" TERRENCE! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??? Duh! I bleed orange and blue! GATORS, BABY! I am a Gator fan, through and through. My Grandfather worked for the University of Florida Athletic Assoc. for many, many years. My Gator history goes way back. However, I live near UT Austin. One of my children is there, and Austin is my favorite place to live. The Gators are my faves, though.

That's it for now, bitches. I have to do mundane things like shower and well...read or something. OH! THERE IS A SALE AT KOHL'S! I NEED BATH MATS! My life is phantasmagorical.

TWO IN ONE DAY!!!

Okay, I have some stuff to say. I got the Nike/Ipod thing. I thought, "Awesome." Because I love awesome stuff. I go to download music to this damned thing. OH WAIT! My son had an Ipod Nano. He gave it to me. I placed it in a very visible spot. My children weren't here, so they didn't do it. It has disappeared. Gone. We looked EVERYWHERE. It was taken by aliens.

So, I bought a new Nano. Whatever. I take it home to sync it and all that jazz, and guess what? My awesome MacBook Pro has outlasted the interwebs. It works. It's never broken. It's never crashed. Now, it is old enough to where I can't update programs like Itunes and Adobe. So, now I need a new laptop. Plus, I'm starting Grad school. Good excuse.

I bring the new shit home. I hook it up. BUT NO. My shit is too old. Need new shit. Use school's shit. Still can't figure it out. I'm fairly tech savvy, so I was losing my shit. I FINALLY get to download some shit for my run. I go to the Nike sports part of Itunes. Let me tell you this:

IT SUCKS ASS BIG TIME.

Having said that, when the first military cadence came on, I was stunned. Then, I got into it. "I can do this, I thought...my family has done this..." I did it. Then some ATROCIOUS SHIT CAME ON. Sure, it's great music if you are on X and at the Jersey Shore. Gimme some glow lights and some bottles with sparklers on them, and we're set with that damned music. Seriously? What is the "dubstep" shit? It isn't good for running. It's stupid. My son likes it. Case closed. I was glad for "C-130 Rolling Down the Strip" when it came on. I at least knew the words. Then, some more freakin' club music came on. What was it, the 80s? It pissed me off.

I'm finished. I'm slightly inebriated. Not so much to type wrong, but enough to know that it's coming. Quickly.

Until we meet again. To da loo, Bitches.

Seriously? Questions for me? Okay. Whatever, I guess I will answer some.

These were emailed to the email connected to this blog, which I forgot I had. Some are old.

1. From Virginia in New Jersey: (If that's really your REAL NAME). "Are you mentally ill?" Well, Virginia, yes. Yes, I am. I don't care who knows. I'm raging Bi Polar. Deal. I take meds. If I don't, you will know it in a hot minute. I'm not ashamed. If I was ashamed, and if nobody told the truth, people would keep saying, 'THAT KID MUST BE BI POLAR" every time a child threw a fit at the Walmarts. I won't be responsible for that.

2. From Eileen in West Palm Beach (which I know is in Florida..so there.) Eileen asks, "Why don't you have a book?" Well, Eileen...that's a damned fine question, there. I write my ass off, but nobody seems to want to publish me unless I do a self publishing deal. No can do. I need an editor. I need an agent. Anyone? Anyone? Let me know. I am SUPER easy to work with. However, I am creative, so I'm a bit of a bitch. Sorry, I figured I should be up front.

3. From Robert in Tempe, Arizona: "Do you really drink that much wine and take prescription meds?" Yes, Robert, I do. Don't judge, Robert. It's not nice. To further his question, he asked, "Aren't you afraid you'll die?" No, Robert, I am not. No further answer necessary.

4. From Chris in Colorado: "Do you have AdHd?" Yes, Chris, I do. I can't stay focused on shit for any length of damned time.

5. From Cedric in Nebraska: "Are you married? Happily?" Awwww....Cedric. Yes. Yes, I am. However, I have been known to marry frequently, so don't lose hope. I have to say, I will go with Ryan Gosling first, of course. Unless of course, you are ACTUALLY Ryan Gosling, in which case I will squeal and rip your clothes off no matter where we are. If not, sorry. I am happily married to the Wallet. He is weird and crazy and I love him. It's a conundrum. I'm more of a guy when it comes to relationships. I would rather keep things uncomplicated. In and out, you know? However, men seem to want to marry me, and damned if I don't keep saying "yes". Such is life, I suppose.

6. From Jane in Omaha: "What do you think the meaning of life is?" Well, Jane. How much more of a loaded question could you ask me? I'll try, though. MY idea of the meaning of life is this: Try and do as much good as you can for others, and try to do as little HARM as possible to others including the Earth. Life with as few regrets as possible. Do what you love. Stop time when your children are toddlers, because damn, that shit goes by fast, you know? Also, take time out for the good of yourself, occasionally. If that means see a shrink, then do it. No shame. If that means take meds, do it. If that means run until you have sweat out all problems, do it. Life will never end up as you plan it, so go with it. That is truth.


I think that will do it for now. Unreal. I can't believe people asked me questions other than, "Mom! Where are my socks?" and shit. Thank you for reading. Thanks for letting me know you're there.

Later, Bitches.

A Sensation Like Hot Charcoal

Well, Karma is a bitch. Tyler and I have been making fun of the man on the Shingles commercial who describes his symptoms as feeling like having "hot charcoal" poured on his neck. We have imitated him, asked questions about how a "slight irritation around the neck" turned into "hot charcoal" and so on.

I think I have Shingles, people. I have a rash on my neck, under my chin. It's much like having hot charcoal poured on my neck. It has been red, burning and itchy for four days. Yesterday, some of the area became rough. I have used hydrocortisone cream and Elizabeth Arden 8 hour cream, (which works way better). I just got all stressed a second ago and it's worse.

I took one of my anti anxiety meds. Well, I took three. Hopefully the rash will go away.

We had our "Christmas" today. Our sons are leaving for Chicago tomorrow, and our daughter is spending the day with her mom. We are alone. Why have Christmas at all? So, I expected little to nothing as usual. I was SO surprised I actually cried. Wally got me the camera I wanted, and three creepy little dolls that I showed him because they were so weird! I have Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen and Sylvia Plath! Right now, they are embroiled in a love triangle which is ironic given Oscar's tendencies, and all. Jane is eavesdropping on Oscar and Sylvia's conversation. Oscar is being witty and Sylvia is bitter and talking about killing herself. Jane is feverishly taking notes for her next romantic comedy novel. I also got...YAYAYAY~ An electric wine cork opener! Score.

Our kids got everything they asked for plus more. One just got his hair trimmed by me because I am a horrible troll. Then, his glasses broke because he falls asleep in them whilst playing video games and they bend. Again, why can't I fix that? Because I'm a troll. The other is playing video games. Neither have begun packing yet. I am not packing for them, either. I can't print their boarding passes because the stupid airline makes you wait until EXACTLY 24 hours before boarding.


I have lost my voice, I am coughing and I am pretty sure I have shingles. Merry Damned Christmas.

Our Annual Holiday Letter That I Hate

December 22, 2012

Well, here it is, folks. My annual Holiday Letter. I am afraid if you depend upon me for frivolity and general hilarity, you may be disappointed. Sorry, that’s life. It’s been a year of shame, tears, disbelieve, horrific working conditions, insane relative, (not you, Mom). (Well, a little bit you, Mom.) and you know, basic things that make me need medication, which just got increased, so rest easy, world.

I guess the good news is that if you’re reading this the world did not; in fact end, as the Mayans predicted. I wasn’t actually too worried, as they didn’t seem to be able to predict their own demise. So, here we are, muddling through yet another craptastic year.

Let’s see…just to keep in the “what we’ve been doing this year” tradition other people use; I’ll update you on the activities of my family.

Firstly, we are all physically healthy, thank God. Nobody has any diseases that I am aware of, and if the children do, they certainly aren’t telling me, because that would mean they have been doing things they shouldn’t and I would be forced to kill them.

Kira is 21 and is about to enter her last semester of under grad work at UT Austin and we are immensely proud of her. She is completely independent and takes no shit from anyone. Good girl. Not only is she gorgeous and brilliant, but she is, also, thank God, nothing like her insane father. She is my cherry on top of the cake of kids.

This brings us to our next child: Jack. Jack is 20, now. He is still in school here, in Killeen because Killeen sucks and is stupid (I agree) and he doesn’t see why he should put forth full effort in classes that are stupid and sucky in order to go to a larger school, DUH. (I don’t agree) He will transfer to Central Texas A & M until he gets his shit together enough to go to a place that isn’t stupid and sucky. I think he is getting the message, finally. He is gorgeous, brilliant and the light of my life. I would, however, like to spank the hell out of him. Alas, he is too large.

Last, but certainly NEVER least is our baby. Tyler is 16. He is over 6’ tall and is built like a farmer from Eastern Europe. This means his bones are incredibly large. I mean, so large you stare at them in a mesmerized state thinking to yourself, “How can a kneecap be THAT large???” He is a junior at Ellison. He is continuing the proud tradition set forth by his elder siblings. (Not really. He goes to socialize. He will be whipped harshly and frequently if he doesn’t get that shit locked down real quick.) So far, his punishment has been no Driver’s Education classes, therefore, no driving. His grades have improved a bit. He isn’t failing anything, which he takes as a success. I expect a wee bit more. We’ll see with Tyler. He is a work in progress, as we all are. He is funny, gorgeous, and actually quite brilliant although he would like to believe otherwise and if Jack is my heart, Tyler is my soul. I couldn’t make it without those two fools.

Now. Now, we come to my dearly beloved husband, Wally. Wally has had quite the year. He has used his computer a LOT. He has pet the dogs COPIOUS AMOUNTS. Their relationship is co-dependent, I’m pretty sure. He has lost all semblance of sanity. He has lost his temper in public and nearly been arrested several times. He has called strangers horrible names that even I wouldn’t say (TO THEIR FACES). That’s pretty freakin’ bad, when you think about it. He is no longer allowed to carry a gun on his person. I check the safe twice a day. He has blamed me for many, many things, including financial issues (of which there are none), a broken (but not really) garage door, dogs needing to go to the vet (as they should do yearly) a parking ticket I did not deserve (and subsequently was dismissed because I caught a cop near the spot I got the ticket and asked him and got his card and all that jazz and he was awesome and it’s taken care of.)

Me? Let’s skip that, shall we?

We will nave no children for Christmas for the first time ever, and I am therefore not having Christmas. I thought Wally and I could get away and get our minds off of it. Say, perhaps…Paris? Wally said he would prefer Hawaii or Rome.

I priced both. Hawaii was more expensive. What’s up with that, Hawaii? You aren’t even Christmassy! Seriously, take a look in the mirror, Hawaii. You are NOT my idea of a Christmas destination.

So, Rome it would be. I booked the trip. Airfare, hotel, the whole deal. Got a GREAT deal on it, too. JUST shy of 24 hours later, Wally decided to have a financial mental breakdown because I was such a horrible person. I said, “Fine! You want me to cancel the trip???” He said, “Yes!” So I did. Done. Full refund. Happy now, Wally? Because, I’ll tell you what…I’m not. Christmas day, I will be in bed, heavily sedated, possibly watching episodes of “24”.

We have both been on a nutrition plan called Visalus. I have lost quite a lot of weight, while he seems to have lost a bit. I am running daily, and working my way up to my previous ability of ohhhh 17 years ago. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, either. I’m pleasantly surprised that I look forward to running everyday. Because of the Visalus, all of Wally’s blood work is perfect. His glucose, his blood pressure, cholesterol, it’s all good. That alone makes it worth it.

I have no diseases other than mental ones that I am aware of. Of course, I have more than my fair share of those, so it evens out. I won’t bore you with the details, but I’m probably on several local law enforcement agency watch lists or something. I haven’t been violent, UNLIKE WALLY. In case you are wondering.

Last night we had our MANDATORY FAMILY TRADITION. Which we all hate, except for Wally. Kira is forced to drive to Killeen from Austin. We get ready to go to dinner, dammit! We are informed that we will LIKE IT, TOO, DAMMIT!
So, we are driving my car, since some BITCH hit Wally’s car by accident, by the way. He wishes he had a 9mm to shoot her for some insane reason. I mean, it was an ACCIDENT.

Anyhow, we are in my car, and I’m driving, and I back out of the garage, and we hear a God-awful sound. Evidently, the little red emergency cord to the garage door opener got caught on my luggage rack, because I am a stupid bitch. I should have known that would happen.

Consequently, as the car moved backwards, so did the garage door, which resulted in my car colliding with the garage door. Oopsies. Wally got out of the car spewing profanities that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before and pushed the door up.
I backed out into the driveway. The kids were not surprised or even fazed by this, but they did inform me that I would be blamed forever. I agreed.

We watched, (and I filmed) Wally begin to try to “fix” the door. He first pushed and punched it. Nope. Didn’t work. Then, he got some random piece of crap he keeps in the garage and began using that as a tool to knock the shit out of the door. Nope. Didn’t work. It DID, however, result in completely knocking the door off its tracks. Way to go, Wally!

He screams for Tyler to come help. We all yell, “Don’t go, Tyler!!!” He gone. Tyler gone. Goodbye, Tyler. Your choice. We’ll miss you.

He was holding up the door because he is gigantic if I didn’t mention that already. Wally is pounding on it with various things, and cussing. We are all hollering encouragement from the safety of the car (which we kept running in case Wally began shooting or something). We were yelling, (from the safety of the locked car with the windows slightly cracked,) “Don’t make eye contact, Tyler!!” and “Move slowly, make no sudden moves!!”

Wally and Tyler return to the car with the garage door still open. Wally informs me that because of my stupidity, the garage door will remain open for all eternity, and let’s go for our family FUN, DAMMIT. I said, “Uh, no.”

He ended up calling a garage door company who came out within an hour and fixed it. Meanwhile, while he waited happily arguing with people on his computer as he waited for the repairman, the kids and I went out to eat.

I had Prosecco to go with my Xanax. We went back and picked him up and I made him drive. Yes, I drove with Xanax and Prosecco and some chicken dish in my bloodstream. Get over it.

We drove the million miles to the light display that we go see EVERY.SINGLE.YEAR. AND. IT. NEVER. CHANGES. EVER. The kids hate it. I hate it. Wally loves it. I didn’t yell at anyone this year. I fell asleep. It was quite nice. Occasionally, I opened my eyes and saw some stupid assed display I had seen a million times before and closed my eyes again and drifted off. The kids were whispering once and I did halfway holler at them to be quiet. I was sleeping, after all. I am assuming Wally enjoyed it immensely. It was very crowded which I hope made him furious. I hope he was so frustrated he couldn’t see straight. I wouldn’t know, as I was, as previously mentioned, asleep. I am informed that I snored, but I don’t give a rat’s ass at this point.

THIS…this….was just LAST NIGHT, PEOPLE. The rest of the year was just more of this and many times more intense.

Now, we’re all sick with some cold. Our dogs are all healthy and really old and probably immortal. Let’s face it; if anyone deserves immortality and health it’s dogs. My dogs are usually great, except when they bark for no reason for about an hour straight. Then, I want to shoot them. BUT I DON’T DO IT BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE BAD AND ILLEGAL, WALLY.

So, there you have it. Our year. Hope yours was better, bitches. (There were parts of ours that I couldn’t even PUT INTO WORDS. THEY WERE SO SHAMEFUL AND DISGUSTING AND HORRIFIC…AND THEY WEREN’T OUR FAULT…JUST TRUST ME.)

So, have a happy whatever you celebrate and an adequate New Year. I don’t think the world is supposed to end this year; so don’t worry about that bullshit.

Love,
Helen, Wally, Kira, Jack and Tyler
(and the dogs, MacGregor, Haggis and Dixie)

My sons and I have had an awesome idea. Well, maybe not awesome, but it makes me hapy and skippy.

See, we are those people on the block that have NO Christmas decorations up. NONE. However, our neighbors have PLENTY. We decided we would go in the dark of night and sneak up and abscond with all of their lovely festive lights and thingies.

We have it planned. Balaclavas on our faces. Gloves so as not to leave fingerprints. Dark hoodies. Innocuous shoes that are easily available anywhere, in the wrong sizes for our feet. We will have hand gestures just like Special ops guys. We will communicate with nary a word. When the mission is complete, we will take said decorations, and completely crap up the empty house that is for sale. How brilliant is that? Who will suspect us? People will be confused and indignant! HOW DID THOSE NON EXISTENT PEOPLE WHO DON'T LIVE IN THAT EMPTY HOUSE GET OUR DECORATIONS????

I mean, we watch "The First 48". It will be AT LEAST 11 weeks before they have a break in the case. We even have street names. I am "Tay Tay". We dont' know why. It just sounded right.

In other news, I will be soon posting our annual dysfunctional family holiday letter.
Too da loo, bitches.

It's been awhile. I know, I know. Life got in the way of frivolous blog posting. I know that many of my rabid fans have been anxiously awaiting my newest addition. Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't going to be Earth shattering.

First: We are almost halfway through the school year and it's been one unbelievable crap carnival. I don't even know where to start, so I won't. Just take my word for it.

Second: I have written anything personally other than modeling how to NOT write for my students. I have been daily begging them to capitalize proper nouns and capitalize the first letter of sentences, and for God's sake use punctuation! To no avail. Forget getting them to decide if they want to use first person or third person...forget having them use figurative language...I just want their damned names on their paper, now. Oh, expectations, how you have fallen... To add insult to injury, my own writing is now horrific and I have become a horrible speller. I used to be able to spell anything. I think my brain is actually shrinking.

Third: Today as I was leaving the grocery store with Wally, we heard a car horn. We turned from putting bags into the back of my car and saw a small car almost back into a large SUV like mine. The person driving the SUV tapped their horn to alert the troglodyte driving the small car to their impending doom if they did not stop backing up. You know, a polite "Hey, watch out...I'm back here, and I'm way bigger than you are, so you might want to stop backing out like your ass is on fire.."

Anyhow, the incredibly stupid and probably criminal asshat driving the small car slammed on his tiny little brakes on his tiny little car and hopped out...yes...hopped. He wasn't intimidating, he was just an asshole. He proceeded to begin screaming, "SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT, BITCH???" Of course, everyone was staring open mouthed at this fool. The lady who had the bad luck to assume she was dealing with a rational human being just sat there and stared at him.

I was simply amazed that a grown man would do that to a woman. No, no...scratch that. I was amazed that he would do that to ANYONE. Not only was it unforgivably rude and disgusting, but it was stupid, as well. In our state, it's a good bet to assume people are carrying firearms. As a matter of fact, we had just returned from the range before going to the store. Doing something like jumping out of your car because someone honked at you and then cursing at them is not bright. You might just meet their "little friend".

I usually brush that sort of thing off. My husband is the type who pulls out his gun and will eventually end up in jail and I'm not bailing him out. For some reason, this particular incident got me so mad I was almost speechless. Well, I was babbling is more accurate. I was driving and I kept hollering "Can you believe that??? WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!!! I WISH HE'D SAID THAT TO ME!!! I WOULD HAVE ..." then I realized I was acting like my husband, and that made me even madder. I yelled, "I'm not normally like this!"
"Slow down..."
"What? Don't tell me what to do! I can't believe that! I am so upset..."
"That's a red light there...you might want to..."
"Shut up! I can't believe that happened..yes, I see the light. I am very upset! What would you cops call it? Highly agitated?"
"Yes"
"Okay. I'm that. I'm highly agitated. HIGHLY agitated. I think that's what they put on your file in the psych ward, too. I'm pretty sure I saw that...I swear to God.."
"You need to turn here..."
"Shut up! I'm highly agitated!"
After every sentence I pounded on my steering wheel. I realized I had worked myself up to a raging migraine over people I don't know at the stupid grocery store on the day before Thanksgiving.
And that is why I hate Thanksgiving.

Oh, the other day we had to go buy the boys some heavy winter coats since they are going to Chicago to see their father for Christmas break. They don't remember cold. We left Michigan when one was 4 and one was 2 weeks old. They think they are going to like it. I laugh at them. HAHA! We live in Texas. They are Texas boys. They will be crying like little babies when that cold wind hits them.

Anyhow, they both decided that they wanted balaclavas. I thought that was a damned musical instrument. Seriously. Where I come from, those don't exist. Nobody needs those. I asked them if they were planning on joining a folk band in Russia and they both stared at me. I was telling them "You need waterproof warm gloves...you need thick good socks, and a hat.." and that is when they both began babbling about Russian stringed instruments. Or at least that is what I thought they were talking about. But no. No, no...how stupid I was.

See, a balaclava is a knitted piece of head/face wear. It's really quite hideous. They both wanted black ones, and after I purchased these, (which were amazingly available at our sporting goods store...for hunters, I guess...PENGUIN HUNTERS.)they both insisted on wearing them in the car as we ran errands. TWO ENORMOUS BOYS IN THE BACK OF THE CAR LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY WEARING BANK ROBBER UNIFORMS. One is 20 and one is 16. The 16 year old is enormous. I don't know if people thought we had been car jacked or if they even noticed. They tried to wear them into a restaurant, and I refused to allow it. They looked truly dreadful in those things. I am sure they will wear them continually at their father's house.

We were going to go to Rome on Christmas for a week, but Wally had a freak out of staggering over reactingness or whatever. He did a proper wig out. He is like an anorexic...only about money. No matter how much money he has, he thinks he is going to the poor farm. Haven't heard that one in awhile, have ya? The Poor Farm I remember my Mom always saying we were going to drive her to the Poor Farm. I always thought it sounded intriguing. To this day I've never seen one. Anyhow, we aren't going to a poor farm, and we have plenty. I will go to Rome. You see if I don't.
That's it for now. Too da loo, bitches.

OY...

Well, it's that time of year, again. Time for back to school. If you are the parent of a school aged child, you are probably hollering, "YAY!". If you are a child, you probably aren't. If you are a teacher, you are probably either: A. having panic attacks; B. drinking to excess; or C. crying inconsolably. Or, in my case; D. All three.

So, next week I go back for the week of "inservice". This is a period of time where we are supposed to learn new curriculum for the year, get to know new teachers, reconnect with colleagues and generally get back into the "swing" of things. However. However, however, however....it's never like that. Usually, it's a lot of technology related disasters that prevent us from seeing Powerpoint presentations that we don't really want or need to see, anyhow. Then, there is seemingly never ending ...I don't know what to call them...monologues? Speeches? I don't know..there's just a lot of them.

During that week, we have the "Meet the Teacher" night. This is when, as I"m sure you know, students and their parents can come up to the school, find out who their teacher will be for the year, drop off school supplies, meet the teacher and you know...meet the teacher. It's pretty straightforward.

Two weeks from now, I will be back in the classroom teaching. This means I will be at school in the morning when it's still dark, and I will leave well after the dismissal bell everyday.

I will eat my lunch in approximately 2.4 minutes, attempt to have time to use the restroom, wash my hands, pick up any mail I might have, and go back and pick up my students from their lunch. I have 30 minutes to do all of this. When you take out the walk down to the cafeteria and the sprint back up to the faculty lounge, the time it takes to pee, wash hands and God forbid, heat up lunch, I have maybe...ohhh...2.4 minutes. So, yeah. I get lots of digestive issues around that time, too.

I will take the children to the restroom several times during the day, and over the course of the school year, I will have it down to twice a day. However, I will have one time if I'm lucky to use the restroom all day. I MIGHT get a chance during our "conference time". Maybe. I don't count on it.

I will plan lessons, grade papers, put grades into the computer grade book, schedule parent conferences if needed, meet with my grade level to plan, take children to and from "specials" classes, assess children's abilities, attempt to modify instruction for each child, listen to children's sometimes heartbreaking problems, intervene in playground disputes because now it's all about the "bullying", attempt to help any child in need, and in the process, neglect my own family. I do it strictly for the huge paycheck.

Not really.

I don't get paid all that much. Why do we pay doctors and lawyers so much, but teachers so little? Didn't a teacher teach THEM? If you are reading this, didn't a teacher teach YOU?

My brother is a police officer and gets paid almost three times as much as I do. Of course, he is in danger all of the time.

I only have had one attempted stabbing and been on two "hit lists". I think police officers should make MORE than they do. I also think teachers should make WAY more than they do.

Plus, most of my paycheck is eaten up by what I pay for health insurance for myself and my family. My husband is retired, and I have two children in college and one in high school. It's expensive. Almost as expensive as all of those damned Iphones I pay for. However, that is for another post on another day.

I spend probably a couple of thousand of dollars every year on my classroom or my students. Seriously. At least that much. A lot of parents do not purchase any school supplies for their children whatsoever. I understand if they do not have the means to purchase supplies. However, when they cruise up to school in a brand new Cadillac SUV and have their nails done and their children wear all of that Rhino or Coogi or whatever it is clothes...I have a hard time understanding why they can't spring for pencils and paper.

I buy it. I buy crayons, glue, rulers, scissors, paper, pencils, map pencils, powerful pencil sharpeners for my classroom, and all of the other office type supplies I need daily. If I didn't love my job, I wouldn't do it. However, I'm not going to let a child go without in my classroom. No child will feel badly because their parents either cannot or will not purchase them a new box of crayons or a new 50 cent ruler.

So, when you send your little darlings off to school, say a prayer for the teachers, too. We do it because we love it. We love your kids. We love learning. We love seeing children learn. We find your child funny, smart and interesting. Please remember that when your child comes home with a note saying, "Johnny did not turn in his homework. Please speak with him about the importance of doing his homework." it is not because we dislike your child. It's because your child didn't DO HIS HOMEWORK and he NEEDS TO DO HIS HOMEWORK. We aren't out to get your child. We LIKE kids.

Here's hoping everyone has a wonderful school year full of happy memories and many, ,many learning experiences. Please, God. Amen. (And please don't let anyone try to stab me or put me on another "hit list" because I'm strict, thank you.) Amen. Again.

Once More Into the Fray

APOLOGY

Anger flashes like lightning
Surprising me and sweeping me away
Into a dark, ugly cavern from which
I cannot escape.

The torrent of my emotion
Lashes out and whips everyone
In my path into the storm.

The screaming voice I hear
Begs for cessation.

Begs for tranquility
Begs for peace

The voice I hear screaming
Says things that tear, gnash and claw
At the heart of the ones I cherish and love.

I am helpless to silence the voices
They will be heard.
They insist. They are legion.

As the storm passes,
The spent remains of my mind
Lay scattered about like the detritus of a tornado.

Apologies are pathetic.
Sorry does not erase
The pain, the confusion and the betrayal
Of the ones I love.

Slowly, one by one
Step by step
They are driven away.

They silently fade into my past
And leave me wondering
Why? How?
Losing the net of safety I have depended upon
Has become routine. Expected. Unsurprising.
I frantically attempt to weave together the few strings that remain.
To no avail. There are too few strings. You see, I have severed them.
Like heads falling from a guillotine, so go the ones I love.

I try to say that I am trying. I do not wish to sweep you away.
Please do not give in to the torrent of insanity that emanates from my soul.
I am helpless against it. Please help me fight it. Do not drift away.

-Helen Freeman
2012

A How-To Guide on Pissing Me Off

So, you want to piss me off, do you? Okay, then. I will give you a few helpful hints on how to accomplish this. Trust me, it isn't difficult.
In no particular order:

Lie

Cheat

Steal

Lie

Lie

Be a lying liar

Fail to take proper care of your children

Use your children as an excuse for all of the things you COULD have done, had you not decided to have children. Grow the fuck up.

Use race as an excuse for why someone was arrested or hurt or even killed during the commission of a crime. If shit is illegal, it's illegal for EVERYONE.

Say Christians are "persecuted" because they went to fucking Chik Fil A. Don't engage me in a conversation about being "persecuted". Especially if you are illiterate and cannot put together a coherent sentence.

Take advantage of people.

Use improper grammar.

Say it's okay to use improper grammar, because it's "urban" or because it's "acceptable" in a certain area. Bullshit. You do not "AXE" people questions anywhere. You "ASK" them questions. You didn't "SEEN" me at the store. No. You "SAW" me at the store.

Pronounce "fifty" as if there is no second "f" in it.

Park in front of my driveway.

Talk about me in a negative way behind my back. Bitch, or Bastard, (whichever the case may be;) say it to my face. I do.

Say teachers are paid too much. Suck it.

Say teachers don't have a hard job. You do it, then.

Say teachers are babysitters. I babysat when I was younger, and I didn't have to put up with half the crap I do now.

Say police are to blame for someone getting arrested and put in prison.

Say all police are corrupt.

Say all police use brutality.

Call the police any negative "nickname". I will shut your shit down really quickly. If someone breaks into your house, robs you or hurts you, call the Post Office or your local drug dealer. See how fast they come to your rescue.

Expect the police or psychiatrists or college professors to be able to predict how a mentally unstable and UNPREDICTABLE person is going to act in the future.

Treat firearms like toys.

Forget where you "left" your gun.

Think you are a master marksman because you once shot someone's .22.

Think you're the shit because you have a conceal/carry license. That just means you were stupid enough to not read a document called "THE CONSTITUTION" and paid some person money to tell you not to take a gun into a place with signs posted that say "DON'T BRING A GUN IN HERE, DIPSHIT."

Cut me off in traffic.

Get in front of me in traffic and drive SLOWLY. Get out of the way! You are holding up me, and the 12 cars behind me, asshat.

Ride my ass in traffic. Bitch, I drive a huge tank of a vehicle, and you rear ending me will do nothing. As the little dude who rear ended me in a storm found out. His car was totaled. My car was fine.

Yes, I know that was full of horrible if not non-existent sentence structure.

Assume I'm not as crazy as I say I am. Believe me, I'm much MORE crazy than I let on, and I will morph into El Chupacabra if you come up behind me in a parking lot, give me crap, look at me strangely, try to cut in front of me in any line for any damned reason, or a various list of other things which I will include in an appendix to this at a later date. Don't rush me.

Say or do anything to hurt my family. Especially my children. I will hunt you down and well, I can't say I'd kill you probably, as that might be construed as a threat or something...but I'll mess your shit up.

Be a LOUD talker.

Talk LOUDLY all the time.

Don't respect personal space.

Be a CLOSE talker.

Be a small-talker. "Boy, it's hot out there, isn't it?" Yes. Yes, it is. Now where does the conversation go? I mean besides saying inane things such as, "We sure need rain."

Say or think that you can drive BETTER after having consumed alcohol. You are an idiot if you think this. Unequivocal idiot. You are stupid. You shouldn't have a license to pilot ANYTHING, not even a damned Big Wheel.

Say someone must be "Bi Polar" because they are angry, crying or maybe they are just a kid who needs a good spanking. That isn't Bi-Polar. I AM Bi-Polar. That kid over there pitching a fit because he can't have the Batman toy? He is just a kid. That child who threw a chair in class? Who knows? Maybe his or her parents just split up. Maybe the child has never been disciplined. However, that does NOT make them Bi-Polar.

I am so pissed off now that I will end it here. I am sure I have more. However, to spare you and myself further heart palpitations, I will say, Too da loo, bitches.

OH! I just thought of one. Don't tell me not to use bad words. I'm a grown woman. I will speak as I see fit. It is not indicative of how I was raised, as my mother would gladly slap me silly when I cuss. It is not indicative of my education or vocabulary. Sometimes, bad words are just required. However, I won't use bad words in front of your children.

Deep Thoughts

What I Have Been Wondering/Thinking About Lately:

What is this new rap music crap?

Why do dogs always stink when they come in from outside?

Where does a baby Joey pee and poop before they leave their mother's pouch?

Why does red wine and sometimes beer give me a migraine? Very inconvenient.

Why does our Sheltie sit and bark nonstop at NOTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD FOR HOURS?

Where is it written that once I am married with children I must become cook, housekeeper and all a round jack of trades? I don't do that.

Am I a bad mother and wife for not doing all that?

Worse, am I bad for resenting the hell out of having to do that stuff?

Why can't I take a nap without staying up all night long?

Why do I have bags under my eyes?

Why can't I say the word "toilet" correctly?

For that matter, why can't I say the days of the week correctly?

Ditto for "foil", "boil" and "oil".

Did Jack Handey really go to high school with me? He said he did on his biography. Well, he didn't say, "I went to school with Helen". He said he went to my school during the years I was there.

Why do people get into Meth? Seriously, it jacks up your teeth and skin and basically your life.

Why is marijuana illegal?

Why did that cop ask me how much I weigh?

Why does WalMart suck ass so badly?

Why is there never anything to eat in the house, no matter how much food we have?

Why is there nothing to wear no matter how many clothes I have?

I guess that's all for now. Okay, so the title was misleading. The thoughts weren't deep. Too bad for you.

We had friends over a few nights ago. This is important because we NEVER have friends over. Family, yes...if shamed into it. I don't like to host. I like to be a guest. Anyhow, we had some friends over to play Beer Pong. Yeah, I'm in my forties and my husband is in his fifties...so what?

So, we played a couple of rounds, and our 20 something year old friends beat the crap out of us. Who cares? It was fun. So, we sat and talked, and then I asked the guy if he had ever tried Absinthe. He said no and was under the impression that it was illegal. Little known fact: It has been legal for a few years, now. I poured him some, couldn't find my Absinthe spoon, so just threw a bunch of sugar in and stirred it. He downed it. It was a full wine glass, because I don't know where my Absinthe glass, is , either. This occurred two more times. He went from normal to absolutely shit faced in literally five minutes. I am told there are incriminating videos.

Of course, you know that people who are drunk fall into several categories. You have your belligerent drunks, you have your crying drunks, and you have your happy drunks. He is a happy drunk. He likes to kiss everyone when drunk. He professes undying love when drunk. He is a really good guy and I am sorry he got so hammered that he passed out in his front yard. However, a good time was had by all. Oh, he went into one of my son's room and tried to have a staring contest. The randomness of his behavior was hysterical and we need to do it again.

Problem: I forgot to add water to his drink. He downed 110 proof Absinthe with no water at all. Three wine glasses. We are thanking God he is alive.

I have nothing to add. I have writer's block, and it's a bitch. I'm just trying to write anything. I have literally been taught to do this when I have block: "I can't think of anything to write. I can't think of anything to write. I can't think of anything to write" and eventually something else will pop up. Well, I'm here to tell you that that is a damned lie.

My hair stylist wants me and my family to be a reality tv show. Yeah, us yelling at the dogs and kids would be riveting. Me saying, "I'm going to bed" at 8 would keep people glued to their TVs."

Lessons learned? Don't expect to win Beer Pong with young people. Bud Light is nasty. Absinthe is worse. Running your hand down my face and whispering "sssshhhh" will not shut me up.

La Bamba in Juarez

Hola! So, I was recently reminded by a dear friend of one of our evenings out in Juarez, Mexico when we were a lot younger than we are now.

First things first. You have to understand the time and place. This was the late 1980s. We lived in El Paso, Texas. If you don't know this, allow me to inform you that El Paso is like...what...2 millimeters from Mexico. It's practically IN Mexico. So, in the US, there were all sorts of hassles. Hassles like...ohhh..drinking ages and things of that nature. In Mexico? Viva la Tequila! .25 a shot on Thursdays! Only the shots were DOUBLE shots! Very frugal, no? Two shots of Tequila for a quarter. Count ME in. Oh yes, count me in frequently! That's another story for another day.

Anyhow, there is a main "drag" in Juarez called "Juarez Avenue" or simply, "the Main Drag". We would amazingly (and so very stupidly) , park on the US side in THE DARK in DOWNTOWN El Paso, and WALK ACROSS THE STUPID BRIDGE to Mexico. Even when it was freezing and we'd arrive ready to party with snot frozen to our faces. However, I digress. Our story wasn't in the winter. No, it was the late summer of 1988. Some friends and I were having a merry old time in a drinking establishment on the main drag. Mind you, sanitation wasn't a concern at that particular place. I remember being almost ankle deep in liquid, (God, I hope it was beer) and not caring. The bathrooms? Holy mother of Pearl. Don't even ask. We used the men's because it was CLEANER than the women's.

So, there we are, and there is loud music and people sort of half heartedly and very drunkenly dancing on tables, the bar, the swampy floor, each other...wherever. There are Mexican photographers wandering around offering to take your picture for I don't know, five bucks or something. Which we did. WAY too often.

You must picture yourself in a VERY BRIGHTLY lit bar. Most bars here are pretty dimly lit. Not there. This bar was LIKE BEING NEXT TO THE FREAKIN' sun now that I am remembering it. You hear Billy Idol playing so loud your teeth are rattling. You are slamming back Corona beer so fast it's like a special effect. I mean, a whole bucket was two bucks...better drink them while you can! Which is what I was doing, and talking to boys, of course. Since that is the REAL reason you went there.

So, I'm talking to some guy or something, and I look across the crowded mosh pit of drunken American teenagers and see my best friend. We'll call her...ummmm...we'll call her "Roy" for our purposes here. I have to protect identities, you see. So. "Roy" was like talking to some dude REALLY CLOSE to his face. Really invading his personal space, right? My friend "Roy" is the type of person people LOVE immediately. She is gorgeous, funny, goofy, charming, just all around lovable.

People like that do stupid assed stuff, too. Like think everyone who is charmed with them wants to ohhh...I don't know, make out with them in a crowded bar or ohhhh, I don't know, be drug off into the bushes at a college party. So, I had to keep a pretty good eye on her most of the time. Oh Roy....Roy, you really kept me on my toes.

SO, anyhow, like I was saying...Roy is all up in this guy's face talking...and I'm still sort of trying to talk to some guy who I probably already knew and had already made out with, but whatever...and I notice, Roy and this guy's faces are getting closer...and closer...and closer. I begin to push my way through the crowd to pull Roy off the dude. I mean, usually it was Roy being the aggressor. In a TOTALLY non threatening way, of course. Like a tall, beautiful Golden Retriever who doesn't know that although you find them adorable, you don't want them licking you. I knew it would turn out badly with her drunkenly crying on my shoulder as I puked asking me "why didn't he love me???" Um, you don't even know his name, Roy! Not that it had ever happened before, but...I had a very good idea of how it would turn out.

As I try to make my way to Roy, Guns and Roses "Sweet Child O' Mine" is blaring in my ears, and why I remember that, I do not know. I can't hear that song to this day and not be instantly transported to that moment. Which can be inconvenient, especially while driving or having a conversation or something. So, I'm elbowing my away through the crowd, yelling, "NO GRACIAS!!" at photographers and sloshing through the mystery liquid.

I reach Roy and this ...this...PERSON. I'm too late. They are going after it. They are running on all cylinders. I shoved Roy and hollered, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? YOU CAN'T MAKE OUT WITH THIS GUY!" Roy was not pleased to have her tonsil hockey fest ruined by me and got a little upset...she was asking me why shouldn't she make out with this guy? The guy in question was just standing there listening to us argue with his head going back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. So, I started screaming to make myself heard over Axel Rose and also because I was very adamant..."IT'S THE GUY FROM LA BAMBA!!! YOU CAN'T MAKE OUT WITH HIM!!" Roy got confused. I kept yelling, "It's the La Bamba dork! You can't make out with him! He's an asshole!" Also things like, "That movie was stupid! You can't make out with him! Plus he has a stupid assed name!!!" Of course, I look at La Bamba and he is not very pleased with my opinion....I didn't care. It was a matter of principle. Roy hollers, "What, like the movie La Bamba?" I replied loudly, "Yeah! He dies in a plane crash! He's a dork! Let's go!"

Roy refused. She went back to swapping spit with the guy whose name rhymes with Goo Lymon Willips. Seriously. Gross. He thought he was the SHIT, too. I will have you know, he was not. However, we may all have been standing in shit, for all I know.

The passion was not long lasting and a few minutes later, Roy was back with me drinking beer. I don't know what happened to La Bamba. He probably ended up sadly walking up to girls and doing his Richie Valens impression or something.

Juarez will do that to you. It's like Bangkok in "The Hangover Two". Only dirtier.

Vlogging?

Heya. So, I've been getting a few requests to "Vlog". That is, video tape my blog, so to speak. I don't like cameras, personally. Plus, I don't know that my life is interesting enough to film, really. Yeah, I could make people in my family do stuff for the camera and say its spontaneous, but that would be a lie.

Of course, I could review products I've tried or projects I've completed from Pinterest. Again...is that interesting? I have several 'vloggers" whose channels I check daily on YouTube. Some are funny, some are beauty related, one is organization, etc. Would I feel too much pressure to regularly post? I don't know. People say they would watch a reality show with my husband and me. Why, I have no idea...but...

Anyhow, if you think it's a good idea, let me know.

On to other things. Let's see: Today is the Fourth of July. Happy Birthday , America! My sons have all of a sudden started acting like we ALWAYS do something amazingly epic for the Fourth, and we don't. We don't do anything. We don't cook out, we don't do fireworks...we are pretty boring. However, at their father's house outside of Chicago, (where they usually are this time of year), they say he does all those things. Big whoop. Good for him. It's not in the triple digits there after dark. Plus, who wants to stand over a hot grill when it's 106 degrees outside? Not me.

I will begin tackling my kitchen for decluttering this week. My room is still like a magazine, and I love it. I have so many more plans for the house, though.

Oh, I made my own laundry detergent and fabric softener, and they work beautifully for pennies a load. Highly recommend that you do that. I am using vinegar, water and rubbing alcohol with a couple of drops of dish soap to mop my floors, and again, it works beautifully. I can post directions if anyone is interested. I have been using more vinegar for cleaning, lately. I am trying to slowly get rid of all the extra chemicals in the house.

Okay. I'm finished for now. When I do my fake mercury glass stuff, I'll post pictures. My blue vases came out great, and the hubby has drilled holes in old wine bottles to put christmas lights in for lighting. He also plans to make some divider or something use the bottles at varying heights on vertical pieces of wrought iron. Who knows with that one. I am sewing a lot more, and I bought a new sewing machine that should arrive in a few days. I really wanted to be able to embroider with it so I could monogram pillow shams and things. I've been sing a $99.00 machine I bought at Walmart 17 years ago. It works okay, but the thread tension has never been right and it breaks a lot. I've sewn more than few pairs of curtains and duvet covers. I've already made milk carton covers so my classroom looks cuter. I'm making storage boxes out of fabric, as well. Sewing is on hold until the new machine arrives, though.

I'm not terribly interesting right now. Toodles, bitches.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That and a Whole Lot of Fail.

People. Seriously. I have been an organizing, cleaning, re-doing machine. My bedroom looks like it is in a completely different house. It's amazing what a little Pinterest will do for you. Feel free to follow me on Pinterest. I'm on there constantly. I adore it. Thank you to the inventors of Pinterest.

Other than that, I've been enjoying being on break for the past few weeks. I needed it badly. I have become obsessed with watching Youtube videos by people like Jenna Marbles and some of the "beauty gurus". However, the best persons to watch is Lisa Eldridge. She is a makeup artist from the UK. She is amazing. She has a website: LisaEldridge.com. I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to learn more about skincare, get resources for where to buy hard to find products or just learn how to do specific makeup looks. She is amazing.

Both of my sons are in summer school. Yay me for being a great parent. My daughter will graduate early from the University of Texas at Austin. Yay for me being a great parent! (She is completely self-motivated. I suck.)
Actually, one of my sons is in college and taking classes because he wants to. He also needs to get ready to transfer to a larger school.

The youngest? Ahhhh...the baby of the family. Our "scholar". He has gone to summer school (not voluntarily) for the past what...three years? I can't remember now. Why? In a word: Espanol. He no hablas it. No matter that we live in a state that borders Mexico. No matter that I was actually raised on the Mexican border. No matter that he is part Spaniard. No matter that most people around here speak SOME Spanish. No matter that my huband and I spoke only Spanish to him for like a MONTH! He will not do it. Not my boy. Oh, no. Not him. Well, just for that, he is going to both sessions of Summer School so he can get the hell out of Spanish II.

You see, the TEACHERS are always SO mean to him! They NEVER get his grades RIGHT! The always LOSE his assignments or for some inexplicable reason, they just DON'T GRADE THEM. Otherwise he'd totally ACE freakin' Spanish. Has that child lost his damned mind? I'm a teacher, for the love of God! He tells me what the school district's policy is on this or that, and I tell him, "Um, I work for them...I KNOW the policy and you are WRONG."

Now before people say we don't hold him accountable, allow me to list for you the methods we have tried in order to keep his feet to the fire in school:

Tutoring. Not just tutoring at school, but we foolishly paid for a month of a national chain who guarantees to raise your child's reading level a full grade level who ripped us off astonishingly. Before you take your child there, allow me to warn you. They give their own battery of "pre tests" to asses where your child's reading and math levels are at the time. They then come out and tell you to hang your head in shame because your child who is say in 8th grade is reading on a 2nd grade level. WHAT? HUH? They then GUARANTEE a rise in ability. How? Why? Are they magicians? No. They low ball your child's ability and then come back and say, "DUDE! YOUR KID TOTALLY IS READING ON ALMOST THE RIGHT LEVEL, NOW! GIVE US TWO GRAND MORE, AND WE'LL KEEP UP THE MAGIC!!" Screw that. I asked to see what tests they used and they wouldn't show me. Then I told them I was a teacher and asked what the names of the assessments were. There are several pretty universally accepted methods of testing and of course, none of them were used. PLUS, someone charged gay porn on the credit card I used there and that is THE ONLY PLACE I HAVE EVER USED IT EVER. I told them that and they quit calling me begging me to bring my son and money back to them. I have no proof. That's just my story.

Then, we threatened. No good.

Took away privileges. Cell phone? No. I had parental limits set on it and it only was able to dial my number, his father's number and 911. It could only accept calls from those numbers, as well. He couldn't text and the thing totally shut off after 9 pm everyday.

Video games? Took them all out of his room. We didn't say, "don't play video games". We took them out. We put them in our room.

Well, that left his computer which I foolishly thought he needed for school. What? School? HAHAHAH! That is what was going on in his head. "HAHAHA! THAT IDIOT THINKS I USE IT FOR THAT PLACE I GO SEE MY FRIENDS EVEYDAY!!" I took the computer out.

Did he study? Nope. He would do NOTHING rather than study.

We suspected him of having hidden entertainment. We took HIS DOOR OFF IT'S HINGES. He really flipped at that. He needed PRIVACY. We hung a transparent sheet over his doorway so nobody would see him doing nothing.

Then, we discovered that he had squirreled away an old Gameboy and games somewhere. Took it away. Then, we discovered he had squirreled away an old Ipod. Took it away. Gave him chores. Made him read. I did buy books if he expressed an interest because the child hated reading, and as a teacher, I cannot say no if a child wants to read.

Now, he is 16. He will be a Junior this coming year. Both of his siblings graduated with honors and scholarships. His sister was #3 in her class. His brother was in the top 10%. Not the scholar, though. Is he bothered by this? Seemingly not. He says things like, "Hey! I almost passed! Can we go celebrate?" By the way, when he was younger, we had him tested for EVERYTHING. I mean, full Special Ed. testing, Scetopic Sensitivity, you name it. Nada. They all said the same thing...YOUR CHILD IS LAZY. He is.

We don't compare him to his siblings, unless I am making the point that obviously being capable of learning runs in the family. I realize they are three totally different people, with different abilities, interests and choices.

HOWEVER, clearly he has the ability. He is in Honors History and has a crazy wild ability with it. The boy is smart. The boy is lazy. Now, he cannot go to Chicago to his father's house for the summer because of summer school. Bam! That will show him! Wrong. He's good. No Driver's Ed. for you! That means no driving! That means no car! BOOM! Nope. He's fine.

He has an amazing sense of humor, wonderful personality and is very very good looking. His eyes are works of art. Huge blue eyes with LOOONG curly black eyelashes. (He did not get these from me. I can claim no credit. He has his father's eyes.) He has a wonderful smile, I mean, this kid could go FAR. As my husband says, "He is the type of guy that ends up being the CEO of a company and playing golf all day and having people like our other two kids working their asses off for him." Bingo. Let's face it. Charisma and looks can get you pretty far in our world.

He has mentioned he might like to be a Police Officer. Well, I have mixed feelings about that. My husband was a cop for 25 years. My brother is a cop in a large city and does high risk crap. He has mentioned the military. No. Sorry. We've lost two of our family. We've given enough. All of the men in my family have served, and two have died in battle. We're done. We are Army all the way, but sorry. No more. One of the men who died was my cousin who was SO much like my son. However, he rose through the ranks amazingly fast. He was a Ranger, and went even further. He then was sent to Iraq where he was killed. He was my age. He had an infant son. He left a grieving widow and a huge family who was knocked flat by the loss. That was 9 years ago and we haven't recovered. No more. Sorry, America.

So. If any of you know how to get a 16 year old motivated, feel free to let me know. Yes, my brother the hard assed cop has been all over him. Yes, his father has. Yes, his step father has. Yes, his grandparents have. And, yes...I have. All the time.

I didn't intend this post to be about my frustration with my baby. It just turned out that way. My writing does that. Starts out with one intention and then takes on it's own life and does exactly as it pleases.

What I Witnessed Today. In a word: SHOCKING

So, yeah.  Hi.  Today, I had to run some errands and my husband, sensing an opportunity to fake me into entering that black hole that is Wal-mart, asked me to pick up some "Gorilla Glue".  You know, everyone needs that shit.  Gorilla Glue.  It will change your damned life.  Google that shit.  So, because I am a sweet, kind and loving wife, (and because he was busy laying the new floor for our bedroom and I didn't want to piss him off), I went to Wal-freaking-mart.  

Once again, I was reminded why I do not enter that vile place.  Firstly, allow me to say that it is filthy.  Not just cluttered because kids have been playing with crap that their parents aren't buying, but filthy as in dirty.  I saw dead roaches and shit.  Well, not actual SHIT, but stuff.  Secondly, don't these people have jobs?  I am a teacher, so I have the summer off, but the rest of these people, I am telling you right now, are NOT teachers.  Most teachers don't walk around wearing tank tops that are cut really low on the sides under your arms and no bra.  No.  We don't do that.  Most teachers don't have that malady that I refer to as "lake feet". You know, someone who spends their time at some man made filthy lake and their feet are all funky and you can see their heels are black and cracked.  No, we lie in order to carve out time for pedicures.  It evens out. 

Third, I don't like listening to the employees of an establishment complain to each other about OTHER employees of the establishment.  Save that shit for Happy Hour, please.  Fourth, when I enter your checkout lane, you damned well better say "Hi" or "Hello".  Acknowledge me for the love of God.  I'm giving you job security, you asshat.  Don't just scan my items and never say a word to me, then turn the little pole with my digital printout of the amount due to face me.  Seriously.  Yeah, I know I might be boring compared to the troglodyte with her boobs hanging out of the sides of her tank top, but all I needed was some freaking Gorilla Glue!  

Now, we come to something that really and truly all kidding aside disturbed me.  I was standing in an aisle with lotions and crap.  I was studiously perusing the selection of lotions for males that don't smell like ass and will moisturize their hands because one of my sons get's really dry skin.   So, I'm debating which brand to buy and I hear a man say through clenched teeth "I SAID NO!  NOW STOP IT!!!!"  I figured it was a parent pushed past their limits by their child.  I turned and it was a very large man and a very small woman.  He was up in her face, with his finger extended pointing into her face and he was spitting out words from between his clenched teeth.  He finally said, "ENOUGH!  NO MORE!"  I was mortified for the poor woman and was looking for some people to join me in a lynch mob, but sadly everyone was buying Otter Pops and zit medicine and couldn't be bothered.  The lady slumped along behind her indignant husband and I didn't see them again.  It was verbally abusive.  He was crazed.  She said nothing at all.  She just stood there.  I wanted to holler, "Honey, it ain't worth it!  Get out now!  I'll give you a drive to a motel!"  But I didn't.  I feel like an asshole for it, too.  I should have said something.  Having been in a similar situation in a previous relationship, though, I know it would have done no good. 

She followed him off into the produce section, and I hope she poisoned whatever food they bought and he is now foaming at the mouth and slowly expiring.  What an asshole. 

On a nicer note, my bedroom is getting redone.  We tore everything out, and painted.  Now, we're laying the cherrywood floor.  Talk about a pain in the ASS. Anyhow, we will put the new furniture in after that.  It's going to be perfection, or we will simply have to rip it out and redo it again.  Meanwhile, we're camped out in our daughter's old room.  I got top bunk.  Not really bunk, but it's a trundle and dude is sleeping in the trundle and we didn't pull it up.  All this means we are at the other side of the house WITH the boys.  They HAVE to go to sleep at a reasonable hour with us right here.  Ha.  Our dogs are afraid to come in, so they keep coming to the doorway, looking at us in a confused fashion and wandering off again.  Probably to pee in the kitchen AGAIN.  I am obsessively watching You Tube videos on organizing and makeup and stuff and started watching videos on grooming your own dogs.  Maybe that's next.  Am I going anywhere this summer?  Le sigh.  Not that I am aware of.  I do have the beginning and middle of August free, so maybe I will.  We'll see.  

To da loo, bitches! 

Hail!

Hiya. So, I haven't written anything lately. There are many reasons for this, one of which is my regular job has been demanding. This time of year is crazy busy for me, but in the summer, I'll be able to concentrate on the writing more. Until then, I've decided to do what I did in a few other posts, and share some excellent products I've tried and am now devoted to.

As some may know, I am a makeup freak. I adore it. I'm just as crazy for skincare products. I recently purchased a product that is easily available in any corner pharmacie in Paris, but is not easily available here. It's called Bioderma Crealine H2O Ultra Mild Face and Eye cleanser. I am addicted to this stuff.

I use it daily. I use it to remove my makeup thoroughly prior to cleansing and I use it in the morning after I wake up to clean up all the gunk in my eyes and moisturizer from the night before. It's amazing. It's a no rinse product. It's completely gentle, and feels like you're just using cool water on your face. My eyes and skin are easily irritated, and this does nothing to irritate them. You can buy it through Amazon.

Next, I am always looking for a good moisturizer that has no fragrance in it. I hate buying one and getting it home and finding out I cannot use it because it irritates my eyes or gives me a headache from the smell. The fewer weird chemicals the better. I have found a goldmine in La Roche Posay's Tolerane Riche Soothing Protective Facial Creme.

This stuff is amazing. Very rich. No fragrance whatsoever. I use it under makeup in the morning. I have shall we say...aging skin and am doing my utmost to keep the wrinkles and spots at bay. So far, because my mother made me start taking care of my skin at a very young age, I've had good luck. This is definitely a product I will continue to buy. I won't waste my money trying new ones, any longer. No more Creme de la Mer, no more of the horribly expensive creams. This one is the real deal.

I use a ton of lip balms. I use them during the night, and all day long.
Even if I'm wearing a lipstick, I have a balm on. My lips get very dry. France comes to my rescue yet again with Nuxe Reve du Miel lip balm. It's fabulous! It is highly moisturizing without being shiny or gloppy. It is a matte, actually, so no high shine to interfere if you want a bare lip or if you will be putting it on under or over lipstick. I put it on this morning, and it's still there, about 6 hours later. I haven't had to reapply it.

Love it. Also available through Amazon.com. I have decided to try the SK-II line, and when I receive my eye cream, I'll try it and tell how it works. I'm pretty picky about eye creams.

I adore serums for my skin. They feel lightweight and you don't feel like there is something preventing your skin from "breathing". I am going to try one of the Caudalie serums. I have their "Beauty Elixir" which I love. It feels wonderful, and if you just need a lift, you can spray it on your face, over your makeup and it just perks you up.
So, nothing creative here, just some new things I've tried. I'm also busy redoing my bedroom and other parts of our house, so...maybe I'll show what happens when we're finished.
Toodles!

NOW I remember...

why I don't drink very frequently. I become a blithering idiot. I slur, and I know I slur...so I try talking slowly, and that makes it worse. Then I am slurring very slowly. I really didn't intend to drink two bottles of wine. Somehow, I did, though. Hey, it was a party. A bunco party. I yell BUNCO periodically because I don't understand how to play. I do it just in case. I have never won and have never lost. As a matter of fact, this time I think I just went to whatever table took my fancy. I don't think I followed the rules. Hey, what can I say? I march to the beat of my own drunken drummer.
I did not puke. Score one for me! My friend's boyfriend realized I was hammered, so he brought me bottles of water and crackers and kept an eye on me. Very gentlemanly of him. I was appreciative. My husband, you ask? He was playing high stakes Bunco with fervor and determination. It was SERIOUS. Me? I was wandering around, talking to people who I thought I knew, or who I did know and didn't realize I knew. I think I rolled the dice several times. I know I had a partner that kept saying, "come on, partner!" to me. I'm afraid I let that person down.

We didn't get home until after midnight. Woo! Partaaay! I know, years ago, I wouldn't have left the house before midnight. Now, I'm older and midnight is practically time to get up for the day. However, I did have a headache the next day when I woke up. I got over it pretty quickly, but was sorta wiped out all day. I have figured: no puke, no problem with that particular liquor. So, rest assured, wineries of the world, I will still be a faithful consumer.

I have nothing new to add. Except for the fact that I'd really like to know who the people from all over the world are who read this. Seriously, I'd like to know who and why. Just let me know. What's the worst that could happen? nevermind that.