First Off..

Happy Thanksgiving. I hope everyone has plenty to be thankful for.

Second off, I will no longer be posting to this Blog. There are several reasons, but I will be shutting it down as soon as I learn how.

If you have been following my Blog, I thank you sincerely. It always amazes me to see the location of people who are reading this.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart, and my you all have a wonderful New Year.

Helen

Big Doins'

Well..hi. I have been unbearably busy lately. Why? I GOT A NEW POSITION AT A NEW PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT IN A DIFFERENT TOWN AND I AM SO HAPPY I COULD DIE ALMOST EVERY SINGLE DAY! Seriously, I am 100% more relaxed and happier where I am. It's great. The bosses are AMAZING, my co workers are AWESOME and fun and helpful. They probably think I'm "weird" or "eccentric", but I'm used to that, because come on...I am all of those things. However, I'm an amazing teacher and nice person, too. So, it all evens out.

So THAT has been happening. And I'm LOVING it. There is a lot to learn that is different at this new place from my old place of employment. Mainly procedures and just a different culture in the school, but it's great. I'm sure people think I'm an airhead and weirdly forgetful, but hey...I'm older than they are and there is a lot of stuff in my brain. I have to make room for new stuff. I'll get it...it just takes me a bit of time since I'm all old and decrepit. When you have kids, your brain gets full of stuff fast. Memories, etc....waaaahhh...which brings me to....


Another MAJOR thing going on is this: My baby...my oldest son has moved away to finish college. Excuse me while I engage in another bought of inconsolable crying. I'll be right back.

Anyhow, *sniff*, we got him moved into his dorm, which is very nice and safe and all that. He has successfully negotiated his first month or so at school away from home. He changed his major. TO ART. Let me just inform you that I am less than happy about that, but I am letting him BE HIM. Just like everyone has told me to do..."just let him be him....he has to grow up.." So I am. Now, this is the child who has been adamant that he is going to be a paleontologist since he was 2. I mean, never wavered. Never. Not once. Never did he say, "Oh, I want to be a fireman and a policeman and a stuntman oh, and a paleontologist, maybe.". No. It was always, "I am going to be a paleontologist, so I'll probably have to travel a lot if I get grants from Universities to have digs...like in China and places....I will probably have to live in Utah or Wyoming or something...." All that one day went bye bye when he said, "I think I'll major in Art." If you know me, picture my face frozen in confusion. Then horror. Then I stuttered and asked "Wh..wh...wha...what about P p p paleontology?" Him: Nah. I'm over that. What???? Over something you've been wanting for 19 years??? Really???? Dear lord. I don't mind paying for paleontology, but ART? Why? So he can starve to death? No, he says there are many fields that need artists. Okay, I'll trust that. I pray daily, though. He is doing well, and I'm proud of him. I raised a decent, fine, kind, smart young man. He's a keeper.

Now, the other child. My baby. He is a senior in high school and well...less than interested in scholastics. He is a major football freak, although he's never played. He seems to think he is on the Chicago Bears' team...they just haven't called him onto the field. yet. He is insane and sweet and very protective of me. Again, I did good raising that one, too. He will go to college for a couple of years here at the local school, then transfer like his brother did. IF WE ARE VERY VERY LUCKY. Our goal with him every year is this: "LET'S GET HIM THROUGH THIS YEAR OF SCHOOL SUCCESSFULLY....THAT'S ALL WE ARE ASKING FOR..."

Back to my son who is away at school. Something has been occurring that disturbs the hell out of me. He is 21. He just turned 21, actually. We are getting actual CREDIT CARDS in his name at our house. He has no job. We are his money suppliers. Wells Fargo is hot on his butt. They say they have an account number and he has a checking and savings account, (with no money in it since he's never been there), and he needs to sign this and this and this and come give them money. Ummm...no. He was paying his tuition and his school didn't take his debit card, which we got for him for that very purpose...and they tried to get him to GET A STUDENT LOAN. WHAT??? The kid was trying to give you money and you wouldn't take it and now you want him to get into debt? Over my dead ass. Or live one...it isn't happening. I mean, seriously...who doesn't take Visa or Mastercard???? Who?? Texas State University, that's who. He had to go to the NEXT town to find a branch of his bank and get a stupid CASHIER'S CHECK and take it back to school. I am proud of him for solving that one on his own. But I was a nervous wreck.

The next day, he decided to do his laundry for the first time. I was so proud! Then I called him later and he sounded a little weird, so I finally harassed him into telling me what was going on. His student ID card, which he has to have to get into his dorm, get his meals, etc...well...he put into the card slot in the dorm washer...and it ate his card. All the other washers had duct tape over the slot..but he got the one that didn't. He didn't know the stupid thing would eat his card. Shouldn't it just have spit it back out at him, like when you try to put a dollar bill into a Coke machine and it's wrinkled or something? No....it kept it and he wanted to take care of it on his own, but didn't know how so he did nothing. It was probably 7 pm and he had not had lunch or dinner. He said there was a "work order" in to get his card. I said, "Do you think those guys have your missing card at the top of their work order list? Do you think they are working at night? Do you ever want to leave your dorm or eat again?" He was furious for me for interfering, but had my husband and I not interfered, he would be a skeleton sitting in his dorm room. First, my husband called and did his routine which NEVER works. He thinks threats of violence will snap people into shape. Nope. He called and told the poor kid RA who answered the phone that he was on his way down there with his "angle grinder" (whatever that is) to open that washer up and get our son his card back since they weren't doing it. The kid begged him not to. He hung up. He called campus police. I meanwhile called back to the RA and calmly explained what had happened and I was concerned that my son had no eaten and I had paid a lot of money to that school to make sure my son was educated and safe. The RA quickly got him a temporary card, told him where to get a replacement card in the morning and that was that. He was able to eat and do everything he needed to. The poor kid on the phone asked me to please keep my husband from destroying their property. My husband accomplished nothing except make all the people think my son has an insane lunatic with a violent streak for a Dad. (True.) I helped fixed the problem with decency and niceness. My son? FURIOUS.
Anyhow, crisis averted. He thinks all dorm functions are lame and will not participate. He goes to class, eats, and goes to his dorm room to work. I should be thrilled, but I hope he branches out a lITTLE BIT socially. There is a club he is thinking of joining that will have tons of kids like him in it. Similar interests, etc. He isn't the most social person in the world.

My husband is still obsessed with Nazis, hating Obama and gun rights. He is certifiably insane. I have blocked him from my Facebook as have his children and all our friends because all he posts is ridiculous anti Obama rants and accusations. WE GET IT, OKAY? YOU HATE OBAMA! DEAL!!! I DEALT WITH YOUR DUDE FOR EIGHT AGONIZING YEARS IN WHICH BECAUSE OF THAT JACKASS, I LOST A PERSON I HELD AND STILL HOLD VERY CLOSE TO MY HEART. HE'LL NEVER COME BACK, THANKS TO BUSH AND HIS WAR OF LIES. So far, nobody I love has died because of lies this president might tell. Hell, they all lie. Just not all of them put hundreds of thousands of American lives in danger to further their own bullshit agenda. And to all of you complaining about "obama care" or the "Affordable Care Act" as it's actually called, get over it. Go a year without insurance because although you are working as hard as you can and it's hard to live paycheck to paycheck, you do not have insurance...I ask you...would you be opposed to getting healthcare at an affordable rate? Then, when your appendix inconveniently ruptures as mine did...you don't have to worry about how much the stupid hospital will cost, as I did. There are seriously ill people who cannot pay for NECESSARY prescriptions. 500 bucks for a 15 day supply of meds is ROBBERY. Who can do that? Nobody. That's why we need universal health care. Canada is doing great with it. Don't say the quality of health care will decline...why would it? Doctors will all of a sudden become jackasses? No. Anyhow...go Obama and your healthcare thingie. I'm not thrilled with all of your decisions, but I think universal health care is important. I don't care where his family is from, I don't care that his middle name is Hussein, I don't care if people don't believe his birth certificate...he is intelligent, articulate and a breath of fresh air from Howdy Doody who used to pretend to run this country, and we were universally reviled. I apologized to people in Europe when they asked about Bush. All I could say was "I am so sorry our country has that idiot as President...I did not vote for him". Coaltion of the Willing my ass. Yeah, everyone knows the Dominican Republic has a MAJOR ARMY to help us. (No idea if they were one of the less than 10 countries in the "coalition"). But Poland? They tried to fight Nazis on horses, for God's sake. Wait, the Nazis weren't on horses...they were in tanks. The Poles were on horses. Anyhow...

When I have no more actual writer's block, I might write something decent, but this is all I have for now. I'm too exhausted to write real stuff. OH! To add to my sightings of weird things: I saw a man riding a unicycle in front of a cemetery the other day. Just cruisin' along like it was totally normal to ride a unicycle past a cemetery on a main road. WITH GROCERY BAGS IN HIS HANDS. I love these sightings. They make my heart happy, even when nobody believes me.
Toodles, bitches.

WHEN oh WHEN will I learn???? (Scam alert...)

Okay, so as most of you know, I'm quite vain. I will try most skin care products on the market. I have used Botox, I've used Juvederm, I've used most creams. Creme de la Mer did really nothing except feel nice being applied. Of course, Botox works. Juvederm, well...it didn't work like I wanted. Bliss products are ...well...meh. Philosophy is...meh. Like I said, they smell okay, (I can't tolerate products with scent for the most part..) they feel nice, but do nothing they promise except perhaps moisturize. I can get that with lard, let's face it.

Anyhow, I found a product that promised amazing results. All of the "scientists" heralded it's miracle properties. It's secret is supposedly a synthetic snake venom. It paralyzes the what...skin? I don't know. It can't do anything to the muscles, as it's applied topically.

Anyhow, I did the "trial" of the product. It is called MH3. I tried the NDULGE and the NJECT. I figured; free trial, just pay shipping, no problem, right? When will I learn? See, by paying the shipping, they had my credit card number. I went online and discovered that it was an auto ship program that would charge me almost $100 monthly for this product. That is too many dollars. Way too many dollars. Especially since I didn't intend to continue purchasing the product. I didn't know how expensive it was until I went online and went to their website. (Stupid on my part. I know, I know.) Thank you, but no. I'll keep using Neutrogena with sunscreen which is really as effective as any expensive cream you can buy. Sure, many products feel great, but Neutrogena with sunscreen does everything the rest do, with sunscreen. I love the French brands like Avene, but am not paying that much money anymore. I researched it and found that Neutrogena...yes, plain little drug store available Neutrogena is just as good as any high end brand.

Back to MH3. I called the number, which is: 1-855-561-3800. I told the representative that I wanted all orders cancelled immediately. Of course, I was put on hold. She came back and offered me 25% off for life! Also, they would spread out my shipments to every three months instead of every month! What? I don't want it. Cancel it! I told her, "No, I do not want it. Please cancel it entirely." Put on hold again. She comes back:" Ma'am, my supervisor just said she would put in her discount and my discount and give you a total of 50% off for life!!!!. You will receive the product for ( some ridiculously low but still too high price) but only every three months, and.." I interrupted her. "Let me stop you right there...I DO NOT WANT IT. IF YOU CAN OFFER ME 50% OFF, THEN IT SHOULD BE THAT PRICE FOR EVERYONE, AND IT SHOWS YOUR BUSINESS PRACTICES ARE NOT WHAT THEY SHOULD BE. IF YOU CONTINUE TO CHARGE ME, I WILL PUT THE CHARGES IN DISPUTE ON MY CREDIT CARD AND REPORT YOU TO THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU AS WELL AS TELL EVERYONE I KNOW ABOUT THIS."

Here is their website: https://miraclehydrate.com/?ref_id=27&sub_id=UEmh3&gclid=CK3vp7Cv8LcCFUdk7AodnkEAqg


Do not do it unless A. you don't care if people charge you out the ass for crap. Or, B. You read the FINE VERY FINE TEENY TINY PRINT that tells you they are basically going to ass rape you forever. If you are okay with that, then by all means, belly up to the scam bar and sign up.

If you do a Google search on MH3 scams, you'll find plenty of people who have had almost impossible attempts to cancel this stuff. I had to get extremely rude and threaten them in order to cancel mine. I now have the email with the cancellation number on it. Believe me, stopping this company is much harder than not ever ordering in the first place.

I will continue to use my beloved Clarisonic with either Dermalogica(I know, I said I don't buy into the expensive stuff anymore, but I adore Dermalogica products...) or with Neutrogena gentle skin cleanser. I'm not a Neutrogena freak, I swear. I will continue to moisturize and use sunscreen religiously and excercise, drink water and not do anything to harm my skin. The rest is up to heredity. Let's face it. If you are like me, you probably did a lot of damage when you were younger. Tanning, drinking, staying up too late, not moisturizing, not cleansing thoroughly. I took very good care of my skin beginning when I was 12, because my Mother saw to it that I did. I still didn't do everything right. By the time I was on my own, I was wrecking it, basically. It is in pretty good shape for someone who is almost fifty years old, but there is always room for improvement. When the time comes, and it's rapidly approaching, I will be open to eyelid lifts, getting rid of bags under my eyes and anything that needs lifting or whatever. Right now, I am content with what I do.

If you want to know if your products are effective, or if there is something else as effective and cheaper, I highly recommend the book: "Don't Go To The Cosmetics Counter Without Me" by Paula Begoun. I would have underlined the book title, but don't know how on this stupid thing. The book is huge and reviews honestly almost every brand you could think of. From expensive brands to less expensive brands, it pretty much hits them all.

There. You've been warned. Carry on.

Toodles, Bitches.

Musings about "Mad Men"

WARNING: IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN SEASON SIX THERE ARE SPOILERS IN HERE: TURN BACK NOW
Okay, as usual...as I have mentioned before, I am late getting on a train to obssesion-ville. I have now watched all of the seasons of "Mad Men" and LOVE it, and think Don Draper is a horrible man but I would react to him the way all women seem to. Off would come the clothes. He is a MAN. Okay, now that is out of the way...I have some questions, obsersvations, etc.

Oh, by the way, if you haven't discovered this wonder, Well, a link was supposed to go there, but it didn't work, so here it is: http://www.couchtuner. It is a treasure trove. Most any television series you have missed, wanted to watch or hear of is there. With the exception of the best show ever made..."24". Anyhow, I watched all of the "True Blood" current episodes and I don't have HBO, all of "The Borgias" and have no Showtime, all of "Game of Thrones", and, shamefully, "The Walking Dead". Free. Free, people. Check it out.

Okay, back to "Mad Men". Firstly, I think it is amazing how accurate everything is. If you were alive for any or all of that time period (and I was. Peter Campbell's daughter would be my age), you probably have noticed that it's exactly the way people dressed, acted, how their homes were, the products they used...the whole thing. It's amazing. It's like a time machine.

Secondly, there is a lot of speculation and I agree with a lot of it. Let's examine the color schemes. Yellow and blue are prevalent. They seem to signal relationship difficulties. It's weird. When you go back and look, all of everything everyone is wearing will be yellow and blue. Ties, suits, dresses, scarves, hats. It's strange. In fact, Don seems to be the only one who never changes. Coincidence? Hmmm.... Joan usually wears purple or red, which I think signals her as who everyone believes to be the "loose" woman in the office. Her character has changed, and in the episode with relationship issues, she does wear blue and green like everyone else.

Also, Don had an abominable childhood, which left him pretty much a dirty assed dog when it comes to women. No woman seems to care with the exception of his ex wife who is a bonafide bitch in my opinion. His childhood and the flashbacks explain a lot of his character flaws and that's probably why they show them. I still love that sorry bastard. Maybe even more because of it. Also, does he have tuberculosis? Are the coughing fits mental and only when he remembers his childhood? I don't know.

As a lot of people did in the mid to laste 1960s, people got divorced all of a sudden. It wasn't as taboo as it had been. So, a lot of people on the show get divorced, and change their lives. Their clothes always reflect the changes and turmoil. People get pregnant and have abortions or give the child up for adoption secretly. Abortion was illegal at the time, still. Unmarried pregnancy was completely frowned upon. The two women who experience it were impregnated by men who weren't their husbands or boyfriends and all work in the same office and it was a secret. Strange, no?

Here is a link to see all of the theories: Again with the link not working. So here it is: http://www.usnews.com/news/articles/2013/06/07/the-latest-in-crazy-mad-men-season-6-theories-2 it's amazingly accurate. I do want to correct one thing I said. Don DOES where a yellow jacket. It's the episode where they are trying to get a margarine account. EVERYONE wears yellow, but you don't really notice it until someone calls your attention to it.

Also, for the record, I am pretty sure Megan is modeled after Sharon Tate. There are so many clues. However, that may be to throw you off. The clues are so subtle, though. With the exception of the bizarre Macy's looking t-shirt she wears on the balcony and it happens to be the EXACT SAME T-SHIRT SHARON TATE WORE FOR A PHOTO SHOOT.(If you don't know who Sharon Tate was, firstly, shame on you and secondly you are not a child of the 60s and go Google that or Charles Manson...it's horrific) They say it was coincidental, but it doesn't fit with ANY of the other clothes ANYONE wears in that show. Lately, every time Megan and Don are speaking, there are LOUD sirens that almost drown out their conversation. Foreshadowing? I think so.

This season deals with all of the racial tension of the late 60s along with the assassination of both Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy and the riots that ensued. There is an air of tension throughout the show. An African American woman breaks into the Draper home while the children are there and robs them. Why was she African American? Why have the weird scene at all? I think it was to drive home the changes in the times. The fact that she was black didn't seem to be the main idea, but it showed how crime was a factor in the feelings of (especially white) people and how seeing a black person in a home in a role other than a maid was not, in itself, unheard of. It also showed that no matter how far we had come in racial equality( and it was and still is evolving, but it was in it's infancy, then) it was still assumed a black person was a criminal. Interesting. Accurate and incorrect assumption and interesting. Let's hope we've passed that shameful era.

Vietnam is FINALLY addressed, as are the "dirty hippies" (assholes..not the hippies, the people who are upper class and trip on LSD and smoke hash and weed...isn't that why they hated Hippies? Well, that and the hippies' social consciousness..that is.) In one episode, Roger and his second wife go to DR. TIMOTHY LEARY'S house (I would kill to do that) and try LSD for the first time to expand their minds. They have weird trips and Roger keeps doing it. Of course, it ends up destroying their marriage, or rather hastens the demise of their marriage, which was already really over.
Roger also predicts we will WIN Vietnam. Uh, Roger, read the news. Watch the news. Listen to Ginsburg. He may act nuts, but he knows what is going on.

Don shows his human side instead of his sex machine side and helps an ex mistress get her son out of the draft. Very decent of him, and shows his opinion of Vietnam, without coming out and saying he thinks it's wrong. Wait, he might say it's wrong, I'm not sure who said it. So, Don DOES have a human, socially aware and caring side. Of course, he can't keep it in his pants, but he is ..well I was going to say a basically good man, but I'm not so sure. He is pretty much a dog. I love him, though.

Anyhow, Season six is amazingly full of symbolism. Check it out. Read the article I posted. It is amazing. Oh, Pete's receding hairline and sideburns are amazingly hilarious. He is so pompous and ridiculous and people aren't taking him seriously, still. His attempt to be a Don Draper backfired when he got an apartment in the city. His wife kicked him out. He now lives sadly in the "Pied de Terre" he planned for assignations with women. There are no women. Well, except his loony tunes mother and her weird "nurse".

Nothing personal in this one, just observations about a show I got obsessed with. If you haven't watched it, give it a shot. It's really good. I hate Betty Draper to be clear, though. Really don't like her. She treats her children like garbage, and lastly SALLY NEEDS A BEATING AND I'D BE HAPPY TO GIVE IT TO HER. NOW.

Things I Love About Summer

First of all, duh. Who doesn't love Summer? Me, that's who. Well, before I became an educator, that is. I hated Summer. The kids were home all day and bored, and wanted me to entertain them. Endless car trips to the pool, McDonald's, water parks, little league...ugh. Then, I became a teacher. So, without further ado, I present to you:

WHY I LOVE SUMMER (in no particular order)

1. I can shower at 1:30 in the afternoon if I damned well feel like it.
2. No bra. Self explanatory
3. No makeup
4. Flip Flops
5. Sleeping late
6. Staying up late
7. Reading what I want to read
8. Saying, "It's too hot to cook..."
9. I can devote time to catching up on guilty TV pleasures like Mad Men and Game of Thrones
10. I don't have to worry about a mad parent complaining about me. Unless it's my own parent, that is.
11. I can clean the house if I want to, which I usually don't.
12. Frozen drinks
13. Cold suppers
14. Flowers in my yard
15. The smell of Confederate Jasmine in front of my house
16. The day stretching before me with nothing but possibilities. The possibility of a nap, shopping, making stuff for my classroom next year, going down the Pinterest wormhole...
17. Making stuff for next year
18. Making stuff for my house
19. Endless long trips to IKEA. Even if I buy nothing
20. More time to run
21. Having my babies who are no longer babies with me.
22. Pretending like my baby isn't leaving for college
23. Collecting a paycheck when I am sleeping or shopping or crafting or on the computer or whatever.
24. More time to write
25. I drink way more water.

There. I kept it to 25. If I really sat and thought, I'd come up with more, however, it's summer, so I'm going to do some mindless reading or computer surfing or something. Maybe I'll check in with Don Draper.
Toodles, bitches.

Famous People and Shit

So, it was recently pointed out to me that I "know" many famous people. As I prepared to smugly agree with this person, it occurred to me that I do not, in fact, KNOW famous people. I have had drive by introductions to some. I have had some buy me drinks, I have gotten on stage with some and given a rousing rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama", although I'm not sure they knew how to play it.

Let's run down the list of "famous" people I've "ALMOST" met.

1. Who: Helen Hunt Where: Some random card/novelty store is some place in Los Angeles. She smiled at me, I smiled at her and that was that.

2. Who: Stevie Ray Vaughn Where: Some dive in Austin. My friend and I were obviously QUITE hot and desirable because dudes bought us drinks all the time, then got mad at us for throwing up on them and shit. Very touchy. Anyhow, Stevie Ray Vaughn played at some bar one night, and after he came over to the bar where my friend and I were taking free drinks with gusto, he said he would be buying for us for the rest of the night. All the other non famous dudes skulked away sadly, while we boozed it up with Stevie. Big Fail: We didn't really know or care who he was at the time. We sucked.

3. Who: Lou Diamond Philips Where: A bar in Juarez, Mexico that we all frequented. Well, not him, but all of us kids. I had to pull my best friend off of him because they were making out in a disgusting fashion right in the middle of the bar. I kept yelling at her, "STOP MAKING OUT WITH THE LA BAMBA GUY!" Because, come on...he is gross.

4 Who: Various Dallas Cowboys Where: Various places. Here's the deal. I met and sort of hung out with Cliff Harris when I was a younger lady. He confused me for my cousin and signed a book to me saying the "night" he spent with me had "changed his life". When I say "younger" lady, I mean like 14, tops. I was changing no lives. My cousin, on the other hand...who knows. I do remember Cliff had a nice ass. And my Mom peed her pants when he came over to meet everyone. We are classy like that.

Then, there is Emmitt Smith, or as my family calls him, "EJ". My grandfather worked for the University of Florida athletic department. He knew so many people it's bizarre. Anyhow, Emmitt was one of the guys who stayed in touch with my grandpa until he died. (My grandpa, not Emmitt...he's still alive). Emmitt was super nice and not at all durpy like he is in the Academy commercials. My grandpa also knew Michael Jordan and Joe Paterno, but would have disowned Joe had he been alive during the scandal. My grandpa is in the Nike Hall of Fame with one other dude. Michael Fucking Jordan. Big Fail: I've never met Michael Jordan.

Okay, let's see...who else?
Oh shit. Seriously. Hang on to your asses for this one. I cry almost daily over this near true life love story.

Who: JOHNNY FUCKING DEPP AND LEONARDO FUCKING DICAPRIO Where: That little town east of Austin where they filmed "What's Eating Gilbert Grape". My (at the time) husband was a paramedic and the film company kept an ambulance on the set at all times. Well, they actually needed them to drive the ambulance in one scene when Leonardo climbs a water tower. Yeah, that's my dumbass ex driving the ambulance. So, I had no idea who was in the movie or what he was doing for his off duty employment. I didn't give a rat's ass because I was approximately 140 months pregnant with my first child. I was not giving a fuck about much of anything except giving birth at that point.
So, one evening, I receive a call from the fool I was married to, and he told me he would be late because he was going out for drinks with a couple of guys from the set. He also told me I should come. I said, "No! I am disgusting!" He said, "No, you're fine...drive out here...these guys are really nice." I said, "Who are they?" He said, "Some guy named Leo DiCaprio and then that guy you liked from that show 21 Jump Street...Johnny whatever." *silence*
Him: Hello? Are you there?
Me: Silence
Him: Hey, are you okay?
Me: WAAAAHHHHH!!! You are going out with Johhny Depp??? Are you fucking kidding me??? Goddammit!!!! Who the hell is Leo DiCaprio, I guess he is hot as lava, too, right??? GODDAMMIT, SONUVABITCH!!!!
Him: So you know who I'm talking about?
Me: I HATE YOU! YOU SONUVABITCH!!! YOU KNOW I'M ENORMOUS AND HORMONAL!! YOU KNOW NO MAN WILL LIKE ME!!! I HATE YOU!
Him: Okay, so I'll see you later, okay? all around big effing fail right there.

Who: Larry Gatlin Where: On a Southwest Airlines flight from Austin to Nashville. I know, I know...what the hell, right? Yeah, it's the guy who sang "All the Gold in California". The Gatlin Brothers and all that. Country music from the 1980s that my Dad listened to in the car. Me...I'm not a fan. However, as we got seated and my brother and I were looking around, we both saw him walk past our seats and our eyes immediately met and we both at the exact same time began singing and snapping our fingers loudly to "ALL THE GOOOLLLLD IN CALIFORRRNIA IS IN A BANK IN THE MIDDLE OF BEVERLY HILLS...IN SOMEBODY ELSE'S NAME...." Mr. Gatlin seemed displeased, as he whipped his head around and met our blank stares. At the airport in Nashville, he was waiting for a connecting flight, as were we, and my dad decided to go "make friends" with him. I'm sure he enjoyed that. I am sure the conversation went something like this:

Dad: Ah bet yew git lotsa people who recuhnaz yew.
Gatlin: Not really. I suck.
Dad: Ah always lakked yer music.
Gatlin: Thanks.
Dad: Mah kids thank thur funny sanging lak that. Ahm sorry they did that to yew.
Gatlin: Don't worry. I suck. I deserve it.
Dad: Welp, okay then. Been nas talkin' to ya.

Who: Weird Al Yankovic Where: Bee Caves Road in Austin. To be honest, I cannot really call this a near miss or a meeting. See, we were driving and on the other side of the road a car approached us and Weird Al was sitting in the front passenger seat with his feet hanging out the window. We all hollered, "WEIRD AL YANKOVIC!! DID YOU SEE THAT?' And that was the end of that.

Who: Bob Lily ( in case you don't recognize the name he is a famous ex Dallas Cowboy who my Mom had a horrible crush on when I was a child. She put up pictures of him to piss my Dad off.) Anyhow, ever since then, our family seems to like...run into him in weird places. Malls, art galleries, public restrooms, no really...mall public restrooms. Well, my Dad and brother did. Mom and I were out waiting. It's like we expect to see him, now. I'm sure he thinks we are stalking him. But he is all old and not hot so nah. Not happening.

Speaking of old: Who: Charlie Waters and (again) Cliff Harris Where: Book festival at the state capitol building in Austin. See, Mom and I were walking around and I spied them at a table signing books about the "Doomsday Defense", and there was a HUGE ASSED line of women who obviously remembered their fine asses and deft football movements with extreme clarity. They were all old women, but still... So, I whispered really loudly to my Mom, "OH.MY.GOD. LOOK! IT'S CHARLIE WATERS!!!!" I had his poster in my room when I was a teenager because he was unbelievably hot and amazing and I hate the Seattle Seahawks to this day because they ruined his career by hurting his knee so badly. Anyhow, my Mom says, "YOUR'RE RIGHT!" (she never speaks normally. She is always yelling.) "AND THAT IS CLIFF HARRIS! REMEMBER WHEN I TINKLED IN MY PANTS WHEN HE CAME OVER???" So, of course, people looked at us, and Cliff Harris recognized me..all of 30 years later and waved us over. We cut in front of the legion of elderly women who immediately put out hits on us, and Charlie who I had loved so very tenderly in my youth was now a wrinkled OLD looking man. And they were sitting down so I could not judge their asses, sadly. However, Cliff Harris reiterated in an embarrassing way how one night with me had CHANGED HIS LIFE..AND HE WOULD NEVER FORGET ME. He even WROTE IT IN THE BOOK. I was appalled and dismayed and afterwards my Mother wouldn't let up. "When did you go out with him??? What did you do, for God's sake???" The legion of old lady fans glared at me like I was the town strumpet. Which, I guess I was, but not for that.


Who: That Wilson Brother. Not the one with the nose, the other one. Where: The Bob Bullock Museum of Texas History. Luke or whatever his name is was filming the movie "Idiocracy" and some scenes took place there. My kids were little, and I was standing in the hallway outside of the restrooms waiting for my four year old to come out. I hear, "Mooomyyy...come help me wipe my butt!" Then, a very tall, exceedingly handsome and very familiar looking guy came out and said, "Ma'am, do you have a little boy?" I croaked out, "Yes..." He said, "Do you want me to leave the room and you can go in?" and I stood there. My husband walked up and I said, "Go help Tyler." Then, I profusely thanked Luke or Owen or whatever his name is. The one with brown hair who is cute. That one.

Who: The Smithereens Where: A bar in El Paso. My friend (the one who made out with La Bamba) and I were feeling no pain and we just jumped up and grabbed microphones and told them to play "Sweet Home Alabama" and they obliged and we sang with them, and it was probably god awful. I don't remember. It was fun, though, I'm sure. Evidently, they had no security.

*People I've only seen, but not met* In London, I saw Gene Hackman walk by a pub we were in.
In London, I either saw Ben Affleck or his twin at a tube station. I don't even think he's cute, so I wouldn't be imagining that.
In London, I nearly threw down with exercise guru Denise Austin. She CUT IN FRONT OF ME AT THE TOWER OF LONDON. She was babbling about "Can we use a Fast Pass here?" and I poked her and said, "Hey, this isn't DisneyWorld, go to the back of the li----hey are you Denise Austin?" and she said, "Yeah!" and I became an imbecile and said, "I used your videos when I was pregnant...." and then she cut in front of us.
That's all I can think of right now. There are probably others, as I'm always saying, "Oh yeah, I met him once...I was at...blah blah blah.." and everyone sits open mouthed and thinks I'm lying. Why would I make up Lou Diamond Philips for the love of God? Not one shit do I give about him.

I will keep you updated as to my near brushes with fame as they occur. They never surprise me and they always surprise others. Weird.

And the countdown begins...

So, hey there. I haven't written in so long because, well...I've been insanely busy with work. It's the end of the school year and we have so much to do it isn't even rational. I get emails multiple times a day that are very cryptic. An example;

Make sure you have your EOY spreadsheet with EOY grade and information in my box this afternoon. Thank you.

Okay. Let's break this down: Number one: EOY means "End of Year". Number two: I cannot put in information I do not yet have...like oh...say...GRADES for the end of the year. I can't enter attendance, I can't produce awards for perfect attendance because some kid might decide not to show up the last three days or something. THIRDLY: I've sent this data and copied it and saved it and discussed it ad infinitum.

Other teachers and I send emails back and forth that say thing like:
Me: Seriously? Did I get ANOTHER demand for this?
Friend: Yes. I think we'll get about 500 more.
Me: I need to teach.
Friend: Me, too. They don't want to learn.
Me: Mine, either.
Friend: Can we have them paste things?
Me: No paste allowed.

We are tired. I mean, we love kids. We love teaching. We are BURNT.THE.HELL.OUT. now, though. If I have ONE MORE KID TELL ME THAT SOMEONE ROLLED THEIR EYES AT THEM, I will permanently keep my eyes in a rolled position.

I understand that parents are worn out, too. I'm a parent, as well. However, since I've seen both sides...I'll tell you this: being the teacher sucks WAY more at this point than being the parent. The endless reports, the repetitive clerical tasks, the never ending assemblies...all the while, we are supposed to continue teaching and assessing children. But wait! For the EDUCATIONAL value, we are taking this grade level to ....the movies! But don't show any movies in class. That's what all those movies in the library are for. NOT showing. SHOWING them is wrong, inappropriate and HIGHLY ILLEGAL. (not)

Then, when you think you might see a wee spot of light at the endless tunnel of despair, you are called into the principal's office (way worse when you are an adult) and get asked if you had the kids give you a freakin' FOOT MASSAGE.

Me: *staring blankly*
Principal: Well, did you?
Me: Bahahahah! You're joking, right?
Principal: Actually, no. There are things being said.
Me: What THINGS?
Principal: You cuss in class.
Me: Oh no I don't!
Principal: I feel sure you do.
Me: Well, I am informing you that I do NOT do that.
Principal; *stares at me*
Me: *stares back*

As one of my students says: Let me break this down for you: I don't want them too close to me, let alone TOUCHING me. If they don't give me a full leg and foot massage with nice smelling salts in the water and perfectly paint the toenails, I am not interested.

That goes back and forth while insane allegations are thrown around that really sound like they were thought up two seconds ago. "It is being said that your husband doesn't wear pants when he comes up here."
Me: BAHAHAHAHAH!!! NO REALLY!
Principal; Well, does he?
Me: Number one, you see him. Number two, really???? Number three: He wears shorts. Holy crap. Does my husband wear pants? THIS one is getting written down in my "Holy Shit" book.

It would be highly comical if it wasn't so horrible. However, when someone wants to get you, they get pretty desperate if there's nothing wrong with your job performance.

I will have you know that there are five days of school left. Hallelujah and praise the lord. Pass the plate or whatever it is people say.

Will I miss these students? Of course. Will I mourn the end of the year? No. damned. way.

Of course, we have many great things to discuss about the kids, too. On one paper, there was a question where the student had to write in a short answer. The question was how did the anglo settlers attempt to get along with the Mexican government. One kid wrote: "They said please kill me." WHAT???? I don't even know what that means!

Or, which of these needs sunlight to produce it's food? A. Rabbit B. Sunfish C. Duck D. Water Lily.
DOOOYYYYY. Obviously it's SUNFISH because it has the word SUN in it's name! You could hear my head banging on my desk a mile away.

Anyhow, this group is finished. I've done my best. I swear to God, I've done my best. Now, it's time to turn them back over to you. Good luck and Godspeed.

Writing with my students

I had a dog when I was younger. It's hard to describe this particular dog. One way would be to say he looked like he was constipated and listening to someone speaking a foreign language while looking at a crispy, juicy piece of pig's meat. That is to say, he was very unusual looking.

I called him "Opposite". Why did I call him this? Well, that's easy. Because no matter what he was told to do, he ALWAYS did the OPPOSITE thing. If I said, "Opposite! Come!" He would go the other way. If I said, "Opposite! Sit!" He would do a paw stand. In other words, Opposite seemed to be determined to make humans confused! We wondered, "Why doesn't he do what he is told?" I took him to Obedience School. That didn't work. The reason was, well, he always did the opposite of what the instructor told him to do. I tried giving him treats when he did the right thing. The problem was, he NEVER did the right thing! So, he got no treats. I even called "The Dog Whisperer" from television. Do you know what he told me? He said that Opposite was a hopeless case.

I even took foreign language classes in case Opposite understood another language! Nope. Nothing worked. Finally, my friend Johnny said, "Why don't you try telling him to do the OPPOSITE of what you want him to do?" I thought that was an amazing idea! How simple! I decided to give it a try.

I began with an easy command. I said," Opposite, sit!" He didn't. So, I said, "Opposite, do NOT sit!" What do you know? He sat right down on his bottom! For that, he got a tasty treat. I decided that might be just coincidence, so I tried another command. I said, "Opposite, do NOT roll over." What did he do? He rolled right across the room!

I guess that shows that even if you can't teach a dog new tricks, sometimes, the dog can teach YOU new tricks!

59 Things

This is 59 things about my husband.

1. He is 59
2. He remembers Kennedy being assassinated. I wasn't even born. Hah.
3. He went to Berkeley yet wasn't a hippie.
4. He was an officer in the US Army.
5. He was a police officer for 25 years.
6. He loves dogs.
7. Like, really REALLY loves dogs.
8. He does nothing but post stupid crap on his Facebook all day long while I work my ass off.
9. He is kind to animals.
10. He never says "I'm sorry".
11. He never admits he is wrong.
12. He is not good with gift giving. He is getting better, though. Or maybe I'm better at just getting what I want on my own.
13. He has a soft heart.
14. He is an only child.
15. He is deaf as a door post.
16. He has a HORRIBLE TEMPER.
17. He is very different.
18. He can quote any Texas state law. Weird.
19. He is not religious.
20. Yet he agrees with the right wing Tea Party nut jobs.
21. He considers putting a load of laundry UNSORTED AND ON THE WRONG SETTING into the washer as a day's work.
22. He is hysterically funny.
23. He is brilliant.
24. He believes in aliens. Not illegal aliens. Just..space aliens.
25. He thinks we are aliens.
26. He watches the news every single night without fail. National and local. Twice.
27. He is the biggest miser you ever met in your life.
28. He has an irrational fear of having no money.
29. He bought a house with cash when he was in his 20s.
30. He built a house with cash in his 30s.
31. He has a lovely wife.
32. He created a gorgeous, brilliant daughter.
33. He pisses me off really, really badly a lot.
34. But he makes me laugh even more.
35. He is who I want to be with for the rest of my life.
36. He claims to be on a diet but eats all day long.
37. He thinks "walking" the dogs down the block as they run in circles and bark to be "exercise".
38. This is getting difficult....59 is old.
39. He is 100% wrong politically.
40. Deep down inside he must know this.
41. He is a gun fanatic.
42. He is an AMAZING shot. I mean...creepily good.
43. He checks our fund balances and bank balance and credit card (1) HOURLY.
44. He uses a CPAP machine to sleep and looks like a Russian cosmonaut.
45. He is quite hairy.
46. He is an excellent father.
47. He has no spine with his children, though. They can walk all over him. Which is why God made mothers, I guess.
48. He supports me. NOT FINANCIALLY. I work my ass off.
49. He also does the financial, though.
50. He likes dogs way better than people.
51. He won't wear pants unless it's really cold.
52. Ditto for closed toe shoes.
53. We couldn't go to dinner on a cruise because he brought no pants. Only shorts.
54. He isn't a beach person.
55. He likes to find crap and keep it.
56. He loves dumpster diving.
57. He thinks he can fix and/or make anything. He is wrong.
58. He has huge eyebrows.
59. He is the love of my life.

16 Things

16 things about my son Tyler. (Again, because he is 16.)

1. He can't decide which name he wants to be called by. His given name is Nathaniel Tyler Brewer. We have always called him Tyler. His school calls him variations of "Nathan", (um, NO), "Nathaniel", "Nate" *HELL NO* and Tyler.

2. He is enormous. Like his bones are huge.

3. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen.

4. Ditto for his eyelashes. Only they aren't blue. They are black and long and curly.

5. He is funny as hell.

6. He is a Mama's boy. In a good way.

7. He has an amazing amount of self confidence. (That's a good thing.)

8. He has a crazy ability to remember historical information and classical music names, composers, and their lives.

9. He couldn't care less about grades.

10. He feels that the world is truly his oyster. Or Chicken Nugget. Whatever. It's there for his taking.

11. We still say things the way he said them as a baby because they were so weird. He called my brother, "Kiko Hess". He was trying to say, "Uncle Sam". 1

12. If he had been the first, he'd have been the last.

13. He weighed almost 11 pounds at birth and was 24" long.

14. He is also my heart and soul. I couldn't and wouldn't want to live without him.

15. He makes me laugh every day.

16. He is far smarter than he believes.

20 Things

These are 20 things about my son, Jack. You know, since he is 20 and all.

1. He is brilliant.
2. He has short femurs. (Those aren't like lemurs...they are your thigh bones.)
3. He had a "danger list" when he was little. Magma was at the top of the list. Can't argue with that.
4. He has been banned for life from the Auburn Hills Public Library in Auburn Hills, Michigan.
5. Ditto for the Auburn Hills Nature Trail.
6. He trips over his words.
7. He calls everything a "thingie".
8. I hear "Somewhere Out There" and I cry because we used to dance to that song when he was little.
9. He used to enact every Disney movie as he watched it. Exhausting.
10. He still doesn't sleep through the night.
11. He has sweet hands.
12. He cares nothing about clothing.
13. He is an excellent cook.
14. I was told by a third party today that he is "such a kind and polite young man". I am proud.
15. He is honest.
16. He is my heart.
17. He made me a Mother.
18. He deserves the best in life.
19. He is a dinosaur fanatic.
20. I have never loved anyone more.

47 Things.

Here are some(my age) things about me. They may not surprise you and will probably bore you.

1. I'm short.
2. I'm a very picky eater.
3. I could read Jane Austen all day long.
4. I am in real true love with Mr. Darcy. And Jack Bauer. And Ryan Gosling. Actually, I have a horrible problem with men. (Only men I have no chance with or who are imaginary.)
5. I still think I have a shot at being an Olympic figure skater although I've only skated on ice once and ended up badly bruised.
6. I have one brother. Thank God.
7. I have no sisters. Thank God.
8. I have been married for over 20 years.
9. Not to the same man, just..you know...continuously.
10. I take no bullshit.
11. I'm not easily intimidated.
12. I think I'm pretty damned smart.
13. I'm fairly well-read.
14. I'm a damned fine teacher.
15. I cannot tolerate insincerity.
16. Ditto for lying.
17. Ditto for hypochondriacs.
18. Ditto for hypocrites.
19. I have a low tolerance level for lots of things.
20. I have met many famous people, had many famous people buy me alcohol, sang with famous people on stage, (badly) and even dated one, but I am not, myself, famous.
21. I think I would make a kick ass spy. Or ninja. Or pirate.
22. I have a foul mouth. It's a bad habit, I know.
23. I have been arrested in Mexico. Allegedly.
24. I have never been arrested anywhere else.
25. I trust almost nobody. Period. Flaw? I don't think so. Smart? Undoubtedly.
26. I have ridden a mechanical bull, and I did it with flair and skill.
27. I can no longer tolerate even the smell of tequila. Or Brandy. Or Cognac. Or Orange Juice.
28. When I was pregnant and certain foods made me sick, I couldn't stop imagining them and then getting sick because I was imagining them. It was horrible. I would put the can of tomato soup WAAAY in the back of the cabinet and when I opened the cabinet the first thing I thought was, "Oh my God, that disgusting tomato soup is back there..." then I would retch.
29. I take things very literally. If you tell me you flew a flag OVER something, I assume you placed the flag in an airplane and FLEW IT OVER the place. I can't help it.
30. I'm blonde.
31. I can parallel park the SHIT out of any vehicle.
32. I have nightmares about falling off of windmills.
33. I have no bones in my left pinky toe.
34. I can(and did)have an 11 pound baby naturally, bitches.
35. I think Lamaze is the stupidest shit ever invented.
36. Next to Zumba, that is.
37. I'm a pretty good shot. You know, with a gun and all that.
38. I will kill someone if they come in my house or threaten me or my loved ones. I don't stop and ask questions. Bang. You're dead.
39. I was afraid Jaws was in my bathtub when I was little.
40. I am an insomniac.
41. I have multiple mental disorders which have been diagnosed. I cope. I take meds. Don't tell me you have an anger problem. I'll rip your face off.
42. I wish I wasn't as old as this, because I am out of shit to say.
43. I can tell you what year any song came out in my lifetime. Well, in my lifetime after I was about 7 or 8.
44. I'm pretty good with trivial information.
45. I have had several car accidents. One bad one. My fault.
46. My eyes burn like...ALL.THE.TIME.
47. Whew. Finally. Ummm....I'm not 50. AND, I'm not dead.
Waaalaa...there ya go.

DON'T TOUCH

Howdy ho neighbors. Who the hell says that, anyhow? Nobody I know. Just...who....Mr. Rogers? I don't know.

Anyhow....I have jury duty tomorrow. That is really an interesting thing. I mean, we all love freedom, right? We all treasure our right to vote, right? However, when we go out to get the mail and we see a jury summons with our name on it, (well I'm assuming everyone is like me...maybe I'm wrong..) we suddenly have Tourette's syndrome and begin cussing like sailors. I was FURIOUS when I got mine. I have had jury duty so many times and never have I been chosen to judge. I would love to judge. Maybe that's why I've never been chosen. Plus, we live in a small town, so when I get local court summons, I get dismissed immediately because I know all the JPs. Bummer. Not.

My 20 year old son got jury duty and we all thought, "Come on, who would pick a 20 year old kid?" Well, those lawyers did, that's who. He had to be on the jury. He was pissed as hell and had nicknames for his fellow jurors. "Cranky old lady", "Bossy old lady', things like that. He wouldn't discuss the trial at all with us. He was very good and followed all the rules. When it was over, and he was allowed to talk though, he almost broke down telling me about it. He couldn't tell me all the details because it upset him so badly. It was a child abuse case, and he was completely unaware scum bags who abuse children exist. He didn't know there were YOUNG women out there with multiple children all with different "baby daddys". Now, he knows. He has more appreciation for what I do everyday, now. He will never be some ho's "baby daddy".

Let's see...what else is going on in my wondrous world? I discovered this AMAZING product. It's vodka, but see...it tastes like A CUPCAKE. Right? Your jaw just hit the floor, right? I know. It's fanTAStic.

Um, what else? Oh, next weekend we are doing this thing where you go paint and DRINK at the same time. Woo! Ought to be a hoot! It's going to be near my 29th birthday. (for the 13th time.)

I am still running like an effing gazelle, y'all. Every day. I keep thinking that if I go outside and run on the weekends, I will get better, but I just end up hacking like an old woman with emphysema. I have that weather related asthma. I never knew it existed. I have it, though, and I almost NEVER have it flare up. I had an inhaler but threw it out because I never needed it. I am a stupid, stupid woman.

I will stick with the treadmill. WAIT! I didn't tell you! This is so stupid. I was on the treadmill a couple of weeks ago, and I was running and my headphones were all jacked up, so I was effing around with them while I was running, which was colossally STUPID. So, I lost my footing, and sort of tumbled off to the side, but only half of my body was on the floor and the other half was still on the RUNNING TREADMILL.

No, I didn't have the safety thing clipped to me. That is for losers. How stupid is that? WHO DOES THAT? (People who don't fall and get hurt, that's who.)

Anyhow, the second my mind registered that I was falling, everything went into SLLLLOOOOOOOOWWWWWW MMMMOOOOTTTTIOOONNNNN.... I thought I could regain my..what...balance? dignity? Whatever...I thought I'd be able to just get up. Wrong. See, the treadmill had another idea, and we all know the treadmill trumps your strength of will every time.

So, there I am, flailing around with headphone cords flying, my legs twisting, my arms grappling to find purchase on anything possible to stop my rapid backward movement towards the large, hard wall. Well, I failed. Badly. The treadmill took me on a very short, very fast ride to Failtown. I slammed into the wall. BUT WAIT! That's not all! I was in a weird position, of course. I was sort of curled up and couldn't get uncurled because the damned treadmill was still chugging along up against my back. I could feel it getting ready to burn through my t-shirt and start devouring my skin, and I could feel my elbow disintegrating, so I began doing what everyone would do. I began screaming "HELP! HELP! HELP!"

It was very degrading, I have to say. However, it succeeded in bringing both of my sons and my husband and all three dogs charging into the room. My youngest burst through the door as if he knew this was going to happen, and in one motion, he yanked the safety clip out and the treadmill stopped. Every other living creature in the room was confused. I felt like a little kid who falls and scrapes their knee and it stings really badly and nobody understands how BADLY it stings! I wanted to cry, but I didn't, because I take far too much medicine to prevent that. I wanted to, though. I got up and started running again after we made sure I wasn't lacking skin on my back. That's right, bitches. I ran 6 miles after that. I had the "Rocky" theme in my head the whole damned time, too. That's a lie. I had a lot of Weezer and a bunch of Airborne running cadences piped into my ear via my Ipod.

I have narrowed down what songs I like to run to. Basically, I must be completely insane because I can run all freakin' day to any military cadence. Doesn't even matter what branch of the military it is. I do get a little insulted at the Marine ones when they smack talk the Army, though. I sang some Airborne ones to my husband and he knew them already which pissed me off. We had different words for the "C130 Rollin' Down the Strip" song, though. His was worse. I guess the real Airborne people are a lot more sure they are going to die than the people on the Ipod. There is no "Blood on the Risers", and I'm glad, he thought it would be good, but ummm..no.

At first, I hated those things, and I waited for a song to come on, but now it's the opposite. There are a couple of songs I can run forever to, but mainly, I prefer the cadences. Oh yeah! Oh yeah! That's me! That's me! I can run to Somalia, like this! I can run to Somalia like this! All the way to Somalia, like this! Seriously, that shit works.

Why I put Elton John on the damned Ipod for running, I will never know. "Tiny Dancer" just depresses the shit out of me. I like "Hot Mess", which isn't surprising. Most Rolling Stones work for me. I'm sick of the Sex Pistols because something happened one night with my phone which I plug into speakers so I can listen to my thunderstorm on repeat all night...and at about 4 am, "I AM THE ANTICHRIST AND I AM AN ANARCHIST!" came on. It SCARED.THE.SHIT.OUT.OF.ME. My husband never noticed. He just snored away. I was jumping up, yelling, "What???" and stumbling around in the dark trying to find my phone and shut damned Johnny Rotten up. So, after all these years, I am mad at the Sex Pistols. For some reason I have a couple of country songs on there. I must have been into the Cake Vodka when I downloaded those. I don't like country music and I sure as hell don't want it in my ears when I'm running.

I got rid of all the stupid "dub step" crap that was on a running mix. Who decided Rave music was good for a run? Some insane person, who has a brain ruined from designer drugs, that's who.

I have no immediate plans for competing in a race. Yet. I will eventually, because I want a shit ton of those racing bibs to hang up. Take that! I will say that every time someone comes over...'LOOK AT THOSE! TAKE THAT!" Sadly, nobody ever comes over. I can say it to my husband, though. Or the dogs.

OH! The title of this post, "DON'T TOUCH!" refers to something I will tell you about later. It doesn't refer to any trial or anything my son was at. No, it's worse. However, even though I teach writing, I didn't stick to my intended subject, and my usual stream of consciousness writing took over. Sorry. Can't help it. I would grade this an "F", but then I wouldn't care.

Toodles, bitches.

Hey. I am tired so this will be short. Hell, it will probably be long as hell, since that always happens, but that's me. I gotta be me.

What's been happening? Hmmm...I've been working. IN HADES. FOR SATAN.

I still depend on wine to get me through. I still run daily and use Visalus which rocks my world.

I'm still ALL OVER "24". What a feast for the eyes. I have no travel plans which depresses me immensely. I don't feel ready for a race, which would include travel, which would be awesome.

I did attend an interesting meeting where I was informed that I should not touch children, but I should TOUCH them. I have no effing idea what the hell that means. I don't think anyone does.

You know what sucks? Being lectured to by an immoral asshole about morals. That sucks ass royally. I mean, this person, lies, probably (allegedly) steals federal funds, is vindictive, stupid, vapid and just an all around idiot. Now, if you think I'm talking about you, I suggest you reevaluate your personality. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's not you I'm talking about, as I'm fairly certain this person cannot read with any comprehension.

In our state, there is some discussion about allowing teachers to carry guns on campus if they have conceal/carry licenses. I don't have the license although I shoot and always have shot guns. I'm a good, reliable shot. I will however, that the course if I can carry on campus. As a matter of fact, I haven't talked to any other teachers who are against this idea. They don't all want to CARRY, they would rather someone more experienced carry, and I am up for that. I tell you one thing, nobody will come in there to hurt those children if they know a bunch of us are carrying. I guarantee it. Count me in. I'm doublin' down on the Teachers being armed at work. I will waste any dirtbag who comes on my campus to hurt my kids or anyone else.

Excuse me, our neighbor, whose son lives in her house now is parked near my bedroom window blasting his base as loud as he possibly can I suppose to allow me to enjoy his bullshit rap shit. I would like to walk out there and say, "No thank you, sir.." however, my husband has arrested him in the past and I like to stay away from him. The other day, I pulled up to our driveway and he was either A. peeing on his trash can or B. unloading a gun or checking the chamber. It was one of those, though. Since he moved in, we have had an increase in traffic in our quiet cul de sac and I don't like it. There are always different cars in his driveway which backs way up to the back near my bedroom windows. I have decided after much soul searching that I hate him. I hate him and his friends. I want them to leave.

I am designing a house the hubby and I will live in when our kids are grown. It will be epically awesome. Not big, because it will be the two of us, but top of the line everything, in the country, away from rap music played by drive by shooting thugs.

I don't have much to add, with the exception of the fact that I am teaching my 16 year old to drive. I am doing the program where the parent teaches them. I'm not looking forward to it, but am holding it over his head. I am dreading every moment of it, but suspect I'll have some good stories from it.
Too da loo, bitches.

Perpetually Late for the Party...

Yep, that's me. Everyone will be babbling about some TV show for YEARS, and I don't watch it and then I decide to watch it on Netflix or something and then I'm ALL OVER IT. This is what has just happened with the television series "24".

Let me break this down:
1. Jack Bauer is a badass mofo. I adore him.

2. Jack Bauer is SO polite! New drinking game: Every time Jack says, "Thank you", take a drink. You'll be schmammered in 10 minutes. Very polite fellow.

3. Jack Bauer takes NO SHIT from NOBODY. You piss him off? You don't give him what he wants? He CUTS YOUR HEAD OFF, EFFER! You don't mess with Jack Bauer. I think we have all learned that little lesson. Something the STUPID terrorists don't seem to GET, yet.

4. I am only partially through Season 2 and already we have had beheadings, two torture sessions, a daughter that is ALWAYS lost and a pain in the ass, a wife killed, an office blown up,a boss inhales a deadly amount of PLUTONIUM and starts dying in a most unattractive fashion, a NUCLEAR FREAKIN BOMB blow up in the Mojave Desert, and I haven't seen Jack pop ONE single Xanax! Plus, the Allstate guy is President and his wife is a class A BITCH.

5. I trust nobody on that show. Period. Well, I trust Jack Bauer. He gets shit done.

6. Another drinking game: Every time Jack screams, "WHERE'S THE BOMB?!?!?" drink. All your troubles will vanish.

7. Stupid stupid plot line: blond chick engaged to Muslim dude ends up being the Muslim extremist and kills everyone but Jack doesn't take her shit. No sir. He shoots her in the damned arm, and squeezes the wound while screaming "WHERE'S THE BOMB???" Knocked her cheap ass wig off in the process, too.

8. There is ALWAYS a mole at CTU. I'm pretty sure. ALWAYS. I'm only partially through the second season, but yeah.

9. I think I have approximately 2,000 more episodes to watch before I'm finished, and I can't imagine what else could possibly happen. I have bitten off all of my fingernails because this show gets me so nervous.

10. My sons are dying to ruin it for me and tell me everything that is going to happen. I will behead them first. Just.like.Jack.Bauer. Thank you.

UPDATE: DOG GROOMING...DON'T DO IT

I am currently sitting here, devotedly typing to you all, my loving, faithful readers. All two of you. Hi, Mom.

Anyhow, I am COVERED in Dixie's(Yorkshire Terrier) fur. COVERED. I look like Sasquatch. I was just going to give her a butt trim like I did for MacGregor,(West Highland White Terrier) but well, I get carried away with the dog clippers. They needed grooming badly. They haven't been groomed since June. So, I get to cutting and trimming and all that, and the next thing I know, I'm covered, Wally is covered, my floor is covered...Dixie...STILL COVERED.

How does a miniature dog have that much FUR????? I don't get it!!! Plus, I lopsidedly cut both dog's facial fur. Both have more on the left side than the right. Rather dashing, I think. They couldn't care less. Their asses, however, are high and tight.

I cleaned out my brother's dog's ears last night. It was repulsive. Her name is Lilly. She is an English Bulldog. She had some YELLOW GRAINY GROWTHS in her ears. Wally said, "Yeast". We got out q-tips and vinegar and I went after it. Everyone was gagging. EVERYONE. My niece and nephew held her because she is built like a wombat, and I scrubbed out the yeast chunks. Lilly enjoyed it based on her leg slapping everywhere. It probably felt good. I am billing him $500.00 in veterinary fees. Because that shit right there? Was.Gross. Fascinating, but gross.

UPDATE: The liquor store did indeed have cupcake flavored vodka and it's DEEElicious. I also got some stupid tape and stuff for my stupid ankle. Not at the liquor store, but that would have been quite convenient.

I am now going to change because I look like a large Yorkie.

Jack just came in. He just got home from some mysterious mission. Conversation:

Jack: Hehe...hey..Mom...hehe...was the ummm...mailman guy...heheh..like ...honking at me?

Me: How would I know? Why?

Jack: Hehe, because I got out of my..hehe...car thingie...hehe and he was going beep beep..hehe...I just walked into the house...ehhheehee.

Me: Yeah, he probably wanted you to come get the mail or something so he wouldn't have to get out of his car. OR FURTHER VANDALIZE MY MOUNTAIN LAUREL BUSH WHICH HE TOOK IT UPON HIMSELF TO RIP TO SHREDS, THE BASTARD. I mean, a polite note saying, "Excuse me gorgeous lady, but could you trim your lovely Mountain Laurel for me, as I am having difficulty reaching the mailbox to put your multitudes of catalogs and various purchases that I would never tell your husband about?" But no. Oh, no. NOT OUR MAILMAN. He ripped huge branches off and left half of them halfway ripped off and halfway attached, he better watch his mail bearing ass, that's all I have to say.

So, yeah. Jack brought in the mail. I got my friend Mark Paulda's book. (I mean, I didn't steal his possession...he has a book of photography, and I purchased it.) I must now go look at it and marvel at the talent. Too da loo, bitches.

PS: Although the conversation would suggest otherwise, Jack is not mentally challenged in any way. He just speaks in a weird fashion. He isn't stoned, either. I've checked.

The Pillar of Despair

Yes, I said it. The Pillar of Despair. That is the new name for my whole life.

I am not having a pity party, but I sort of am. I have reasons, they are probably completely boring to you, though, so I'll spare you the details.

I wonder if the liquor store has that cupcake flavored vodka?

Anyhow...I was running and my left ligament started hurting. I had to ice it. I will probably have to keep icing it. It pisses me off. Have you ever placed an appendage into a vat of ice water? It's a bitch. I mean a "40 Year Old Virgin" getting his chest waxed bitch. Words come out of your mouth that you didn't know you knew. I have been working so hard and doing so well with my running again that having any setback enrages me. I am enraged at the Toyota Corolla I crashed in 1988, I am enraged at the cement divider on I-10 that put the entire front axle and wheel into the driver's compartment of the car I was driving, forever ruining my left foot. I mean 30 years? Isn't that enough time for it to heal and be perfect forever? I've had massage, cupping, all sorts of other stuff to break up the scar tissue and it's not working, and bones are all in the wrong place. It's a jacked up situation.

Riddle me this...why when I ask my husband, "Is this a pajama day or a clothes day?" does he not understand? I also said, "Okay, is it a makeup day or a no makeup day?" He stared blankly at me with drool running down his chin. I said, "Okay, is it a bra day or a no bra day?" Stupid question. His answer to THAT question is ALWAYS "No bra". Sicko. I mean, I meant, are we leaving this house today, or what? So, I am wearing clothing, a bra, but no makeup. Call it a contingency plan. If I leave, I will spend money. Why? Because I am passive-aggressive that way. He pisses me off, (he being my husband), I spend money, I guess. According to him, I spend recklessly. WhatEVer.

My kids came home from their father's home in Chicago two nights ago. Their flight was 45 minutes late coming in, despite the fact that the little board that tells you if a flight is on time said, "Arrived". It hadn't arrived! It was somewhere over freaking Arkansas or something! Anyhow, we people watched at the airport, which is a prime spot for that sport, by the way. I saw:

A small Asian man wearing green sweatpants that were far too large. He had on a badly knit beanie hat and Birth Control glasses. He had a Paddington Bear type coat. He was wearing flip flops. He was about 4 feet tall and acted totally lost. He was carrying a hand lettered sign for whoever he was picking up. It was glittery and pastel colored. That interested me. I was staring at him openly, because that is a problem I have, don't judge. As I'm staring, he begins doing squats. IN THE FREAKING AIRPORT BY THE BAGGAGE CAROUSEL. Amazing. Mesmerized, I elbowed my husband and said, "Secret Asian Man is doing squats." Since I hadn't made my husband aware of the guy's presence, my husband was entirely confused. I had to repeat it. LOUDLY because my husband needs one of those old fashioned ear trumpets. I think I'll look on EBAY for one. Anyhow, he looks at him and makes a face that I have come to know means, "Weird..." He stopped paying attention. How is that possible? I continued to watch. He had no clue I was openly violating him with my eyes. I mean, this guy was ODD looking to start with, but doing squats with his glittery sign? I couldn't wait to see what he would do next! I had to turn all the way around in my seat to watch him, too. I didn't give a shit. It was an extravaganza. Just when I'm getting bored with squats, he starts kicking his legs around in a what...Brazilian martial arts thing? Jujitsu? What?!?!?! It was A-MAZE-ING. I elbow my husband again. I said, "Asian man....martial arts, now." Husband has no reaction. So disappointing. He just kept kicking and spinning and jumping, it was like Cirque du Soleil without the creepy clown on the unicycle on a tightrope!!! Get this, though: NOBODY ELSE SEEMED TO NOTICE. AS USUAL. I began to think I loved him. Or at least, at the VERY least, I was obsessed with him and his life. What was his story? Where was he from? Why was he doing these things? Was he trying to make a spectacle of himself or what? Why the glitter? Does he like Paddington Bear a lot or something? So, his party he was waiting for showed up. IT GETS BETTER.

His friend he was waiting for was about ohhhhh 5 feet taller than him. He was wearing, and I shit you not, a Fidel Castro type hat. PERFECTION. He had a disgusting hipster beard and mustache and all that shit. They began caressing each other. I was done. I gone.

Then, I turn and see this very tall, very handsome, dark, bald man in a business suit. To be perfectly honest, he looked like a hot hit man. So, of course, I zeroed in on him with my eyes. I let the Castro/Jujitsu couple do their thang. I was now in love with the tall bald dude. He was walking ...no..no...STRIDING WITH CONFIDENCE toward the baggage area with his suitcase behind him...it just followed his ass because his hot ass COMMANDED it do so. (Actually it was a regular rolling suitcase...) and just when I think I might swoon, some short girl with a backpack runs up to him and he drops everything..Bam! He grabs her head like he is going to bash it in, but NO. NO! This man is nothing if not PASSIONATE. He grabs her and begins passionately making out with her in a way you only see behind Notre Dame in Paris. (different story) She just stood there with her hands at her sides. She was clearly swooning with passion and amazement. He just kept going after it, too! He got MORE AND MORE INTO IT. I mean, the way he grabbed her face and head and stuff...it was ....wow. WOW. I thought she looked FAR too young for him, what with her little kid backpack, but then she turned around and girlfriend looked like 10 miles of bad road. She was at LEAST my age, or at least looked like it. He could have been doing that with someone else. Someone hot. Someone who wouldn't stand there with their hands next to their sides as he acted out a scene from a movie with such passion and je n'ais se quois that I was wishing for a camera.

Then, I saw MULTITUDES of unsupervised children. People telling toddlers, "Stay right here, okay?" What?!?!?! Off the kid would trot. PEOPLE! DON'T LEAVE YOUR KID ALONE ANYWHERE,EVER!!!!! Not only is it dangerous to the child, but it is ANNOYING AS HELL. I have my own kids. They never left my side, my eyesight, my handhold, the stroller, whatever I had to restrain them and their wild selves. Guess what? I still have them and they are grown. Nobody ever took them. Nobody had a chance in hell of taking those boys. Maybe nobody wanted to, but still.

Also, people. Listen. You've heard of Karma, yes? Paying it forward? Being nice? Here is an observation: when you see a young family with young children who are clearly overwhelmed with the magnitude of their poor decision making, "Why the hell did we think we could take a trip with triplets and twins and a pregnant woman and 28 suicases?" HELP THEM OUT. Offer to help them move their luggage. Offer to lift something. They probably don't want you touching their kids, but you could get them a luggage cart or two. I saw so many people struggling with little kids and luggage.

THEN! THEN! OH MY GOD. I almost forgot. My husband was at the baggage carousel getting the boy's bags. Some man in a VC hat (No lie...total pyramid hat) PUSHED MY ASS out of his way and pushed everyone else, too. He was in a HUGE ASSED HURRY TO GET HIS ONE SUITCASE. Well, to be fair he had many suitcases and boxes, but he did it ONE AT A DAMNED TIME. His female companion had on a PURPLE SPARKLY FUR STOLE with bag lady clothes and she stood serenely by as he scurried and pushed people as he ran to her, back to the carousel, back to her, back to the carousel. He pushed me twice.

I finally said, "SIR! SERIOUSLY! SIR! DUDE! COME ON!" He never paused. People were staring at him in stupefaction.

I was still hollering, "COME ON! MAN! KNOCK IT OFF! YOU ARE PUSHING PEOPLE OVER! LITTLE MAN! SIR!" I have to assume he either A. didn't understand English or B. didn't give a shit. I am going with B.

Of course, the best part was standing at the bottom of the escalator and seeing my beautiful sons descend. You would have thought they were descending into hell by the looks on their gorgeous faces, but...you know...kids. One had on a Chicago Bears shirt, the other had on a "The Dude Abides" shirt. That pretty well sums up their differences, too. At least they were clean and didn't need haircuts. (They were only gone a week.) My reaction: "Oh! I missed you! kiss kiss kiss, hug hug hug...Their reaction: *suffered my affection with barely contained contempt* They inform me that it was NOT EVEN COLD IN CHICAGO AS I HAD TOLD THEM IT WOULD BE. I am a stupid idiot. I told them in Michigan in January and February it was mind blowingly cold. So cold they would say on the weather not to go outside for longer than like 45 seconds or your lungs could freeze. They had a dusting of snow. NO BLIZZARD! My fault. Here, it was in the 40s and drizzly, and they walked out shouting, "OH MY GOD! IT IS SO HOT!!" Who said girls are dramatic? I was freezing, personally. Not them. Although, they wore their balaclavas as frequently as possible.

There is my update on my trip to the airport which is about 50 million miles from my house, thank you very much, ex husband. (Although there is no airport closer, I guess...)