Would you rather?

Hey y'all. I suppose this would you rather do this or that has become pretty popular. A friend asked me these, so I am passing them on to whoever is out there reading this.

1. Would you rather smell bleach or chlorine? (Very strange and makes no sense.) I guess chlorine. That means I am next to the pool.
2. Chocolate or vanilla? I cannot choose. I like a little of both together.
3. Tall men or short men? Tall. Definitely tall.
4. Dark hair or light hair? Well, I prefer men with dark hair, but I have blonde (silver...you know glitter strands of wisdom..) I am not attracted to blonde men usually.
5. Skinny or healthy with muscle? Idiot question. Healthy with muscle. Damn. Maybe skinny. Now, healthy. Yeah.
6. Cats or dogs? SERIOUSLY??? DOGS.
7. House or apartment? I'm all grown up. House.
8. Cake or pie? Pie. With that, you can have two desserts, because you can put ice cream on top and it only counts as one dessert. Win-Win.
9.Educated or blue collar? I prefer an educated person..or man I guess this is asking. I prefer educated people in general, though. However, that isn't to say that someone who is blue collar isn't also educated. So, both.
10. Army or Navy? HOOOAH! ARMY!
11. North or South? South, sugah.
12. Children or no? Um...too late. I have two boys. They are in college, but they are still my babies. If you were to seriously ask me if I wanted MORE right now? One day I'd say yes, the next day I'd say "AW HELL NAW". Then I'd see a sweet little baby and be on board again. However, I'm over 35, so it would probably be born with 5 heads or something. I'd feel a little guilty for my selfishness, then.
13. Beach or mountains? BEACH! Unless I want to see some snow and ski and snowboard, which happens almost never. But I always want peace, serenity and waves and sun.
14. Neutral or color? Balance. I like gray. I like very pale sea green or blue. Then I like pops of color like orange or bright turquoise or something like that.
15. Moves or Home with a DVD: Either

There you go. Happy now? Everyone who reads this, must post their own somewhere...Facebook...your blog...whatever.

NUGGET OF WISDOM: NEVER PLAY WITH GUNS.

Question and answers. AGAIN?!

Hey my mammals,

I have inexplicably had some readers of this blog(which I thought pretty much nobody ever read) ask me questions once more.
I will just dive in. I swear....this is weird.

1. Joseph from someplace in Canada (I could check...but it's Canada..) "How old are you?" I am 48 years old. I hate that. I look in the mirror and think, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!"

2. A. in South Carolina: "Why don't you ever say your husband's real name?" Well, I really never thought about it. He is a man of many names. Some include: "Sanford"; "Wallsterham Lincoln"; "The Ice Man" (HAHAHAHAHAHA..it was his "street name when he was a cop.) "Emperor"; "Emperor Wallace" and various words that just describe him.

3. Don in Washington state: "Why did you stop writing for awhile?" Well that's just really none of your business. No offense. Actually, have you ever had anything nice after the phrase, "No offense, but..." Nothing good comes from that.

4. R. in Slovenia or Slovakia...some "slo" place. (How the hell does that even work?) How many children do you have?
Had you read the last couple of posts, you would know the answer to that. I don't repeat. Because it is a pain. But okay, I have two grown boys.


5. F in some town in Wisconsin(I actually think I know who this is..) What words to you hate to hear?
This is EASY. Let's get started:
1. Panty or panties. It's a disgusting word.
2. Any words that has a lot of "s" or "l" together. It trips me up every time. Actually, that happens with "ch", too.
3. fish
4. hot
5. pork
6. words with the letter/u/ that make an "oo" sounds. Irritating.
7.Khalissi...please. Really?
8. I guess that's all I can think of.

6. R in freakin' Vermont? Okay, whatever. "Why are you so negative?" Well, asshat, (see there, you made me break my New Year's resolution. Shame on you.) I suppose I come across as negative because, I pretty much think that these days, the good, decent humans are outnumbered by idiots who mean to cause harm. I am tired of hearing about politics, gun rights, I hated the commercial with some lady singing and animals freezing and shaking. People do that to innocent animals, and I barely stand to live with that knowledge. People kill their own children, even BABIES. There is no punishment that is just. Of course, they plead insanity, get put away and find Jesus and a bunch of nut jobs take up this idiot's case and stand around on the night the asshole takes his or her last walk and they have stupid assed candlelight vigils, and women have adolescent crushes on mass murderers. I don't get that at all. I mean, all of that is pretty negative. That's all you see on the news. Brings a person down, man.

7. F in New Mexico: What is your "type" in a man. Hmmm...very shady there, "F". But who cares, so I will tell you. The person must be male and human. I prefer tall guys and guys with dark hair. I have always been attracted to Latin American men. Its a weakness. I mean, the guys doesn't have to be latin american, just you know, the more swarthy type. (My Grandma called them "swarthy") Actually, just tall and dark and handsome. Cliche' but..you gotta go with it sometimes.
I have never really been attracted to blonde guys or really pale guys. I gotta have a little bit of color. I like eyes. Just you know, nice eyes. I hate it when people with brown eyes wear contacts to give themselves lighter colored eyes. It's just so obvious. And ugly. I am always attracted to extremely smart men, and funny men. If the man likes puppies and babies, I figure he's a pretty good catch now a days. Ohhhh so many men...how stupid I was in my youth.


8.M in Texas: Why don't you do the product reviews of makeup and stuff? Do you have a vlog? Me: Do I have a WHAT? That sounds nastaay. I haven't been doing the reviews because I have been using natural things, like coconut oil, more sunscreen, less facial makeup...you know...It's even tiring thinking about all the things I have to do...use it for awhile, take pictures of before and after, all that crap.

Well, that's all I'm doing tonight. I am going to start Krav Maga to help me keep my strength and endurance while I can't run. I already do Yoga every night...Maybe Krav Maga will beat the hell out of my body so
that it will throw fat off of itself.

Oh, Y'all! I almost forgot. I feel like a pretty wise person, (actually, I'm pretty much a moron..) so I am going to give helpful little nuggets of my wisdom.

TODAY'S WORDS OF WISDOM? GO GET A COLONOSCOPY. NOW.

Love Note to My Children

I am very fortunate to have given birth to two amazing babies. I mean...AMAZING. I wanted to have children, and as soon as I married, I tried to get pregnant. It took a couple of months but it worked. The feeling of elation I felt when the extra line showed up on the home pregnancy test almost made me hyperventilate. I have never been that excited in my life. Both times, even.

My first child is now 22 years old. He is gorgeous, brilliant, creative, and is studying Art in college. Always wanted to be a paleontologist, but then switched to Art two years into college. Let your freak flag fly, my child.
When I went to my first obstetrical appointment with him, and I met my Dr., I was instantaneously in love. He was funny, cute and when I said, "I just want you to know, I HAVE A BIRTH PLAN, AND I WON'T STRAY FROM IT AND NOBODY ELSE BETTER, EITHER!" He smiled and calmly said, "Good, I was going to recommend that." Score one for him. Then I informed him I would be doing Bradley natural childbirth and that Lamaze was a joke. He agreed 100%. He asked pregnant women to take Bradley classes. Score 2 for him. Bradley classes are amazing and last much longer than Lamaze stupidity. Bradley takes more than 6 weeks, so you have to plan, and I've never heard a hospital say that you must take them in order to use their facilities, although with my second child I was told I must take their mandatory Lamaze to give birth there.

Anyhow, Bradley is a miracle, in my opinion. My pregnancy was healthy and completely uneventful. I knew I was in labor because my water broke. Actually, it was like Niagra Falls. If you aren't aware, it never stops. It keeps flowing out until you have the baby. Your body keeps producing it. So, "dry birth" is a total lie. (I think...I'm no doctor.)
We got to the hospital and since my birthing "suite' wasn't ready, I had to wait awhile in a regular labor and delivery room. Boring. Very small. I was bored. Plus, I could hear women screaming. It didn't scare me, because I thought they were being a bit overdramatic. If you can breathe enough to scream like that...well...you must be ok.

24 hours later with almost no pain until about 4 hours before birth, I pushed MAYBE four times and met Jack. His eyes were open and it was a silent, beautiful birth. I grabbed him and held him to me and said, "Hi! I love you! I'm your Mommy and I've been waiting for you for so long..." He stared at me. He blinked slowly. He was the most Zen little dude ever. (I thought at the time..)

Over the years, he has tested my patience to such a degree I'm lucky I'm not in jail. However, my overwhelming, all consuming love for him always wins out. He is cranky, impatient, and usually unpleasant to me. I have threatened him and done many things to rectify it, but he has been this way since the day AFTER he was born when he smelled fried chicken and threw the most amazing fit I've ever seen a newborn throw. He got us kicked out of the Auburn Hills, MI public library and banned for life, and we had the same thing happen on the nature trail adjacent to the library. Why? He said the puppet thing we were doing at Mommy and Me at the library was "tupid" and he wanted to read about Dinosaurs. He could not be stopped from loudly proclaiming these activities childish and beneath him. He continued to attempt to get out of my lap and we ended up struggling on the floor like we were wrestling. "Ma'am, we regret to say we must revoke your library card and ask that you never return." WHAT? WHAT? Philistines.

A few weeks later at the Nature Trail, they had two park rangers give a little talk and hike to children. Of course, my sweet angel and I went. Everything was fine. The rangers were talking about the dangers of taking things out of nature and the "leave no trace" policy, when my child raised his chubby little arm. (he was two years old when all of this happened.) The ranger called on him and my baby boy said, "If we leave no trace, how can we find dinosaur bones?" Of course this was all said in "Jackspeak". I was the only person who understood him most of the time. The two kind rangers were about to be blindsided by the wrath of Jack...oh the poor rangers. I was talking through gritted teeth to him..."Jack stop it...we aren't here for dinosaurs! Put your hand down and listen! I will take you home right now and spank your legs if you don't stop this right now!" My words had no affect. Jack would not be dissuaded. After the rangers awkwardly attempted to explain that there were NO dinosaur bones there, Jack said, "Of course they are. Everything was an ocean once. There are fossils everywhere." Touche' Jack. Touche'. The rangers were displeased and Jack continued to insist and I continued to threaten, so they finally asked us to leave and never come back to their presentations. I was stunned and again humiliated, although I don't know why. I picked him up and he began struggling against me. It was much like Friday night at the fights. I got him into his car seat, which was pretty damned almost impossible, and we drove home. He screamed and cried the entire time. It was about a five minute car trip to our house. We got out, and I told him he was going to sit in his room until he could control himself. He didn't care at all. He sat in his room and SCREAMED HIS LUNGS OUT FOR A GOOD 45 MINUTES. The neighbors even came over to check on him. He was a bit of a fit thrower. I didn't give in to him. If he began to throw a fit at a restaurant, we left. If he tried to throw a fit over a toy he wanted, we left. We didn't cajole or plead. Did he care? Nope. Nuh-uh.

He has grown, and he has matured. The maturity is still ongoing, but he is my heart. He is a bit solitary, like me. He has a HORRIBLE temper, like me...but not as bad as the 2-5 year old Jack. He is terribly talented with anything creative. He is a masterful writer, and his painting is amazing. He does not take advice from ANYONE. He is stubborn. He is suffering us peasants for now.

That brings me to my beloved second child. Again, easy pregnancy. Jack was 3 years old. I figured since my brother and I were four years apart as were my husband and his brother, that it would be a good time. Turns out it didn't really matter. Anyhow, this obstetrician was boring. The hospital DEMANDED we take their stupid Lamaze class. At the first class, we had to close our eyes and lay back against our husbands. ( I was the only person who already had a child in the class...the rest were glowing first timers.) Anyhow, we were to close our eyes, (NEVER DO THAT, IT MAKES YOU CONCENTRATE ON THE PAIN.), imagine the word "PAIN" written in the sand and then the wave coming and washing it away....breathe.... I couldn't help it. I guffawed out loud. Which awarded me with a roomful of glares. The teacher asked why I did that and I told her that I had used Bradley and this was all bullcrap I was just there because the hospital forced me to be. I told her when I had my baby, the nurses had been stunned how fast and how silent it had been. They called me a hippie Earth mother. I thought I could go into the surrogate business. She told me to be quiet and do whatever I wanted, but please don't disillusion the others. WHO BY THE WAY WERE ALL HAVING SCHEDULED C-SECTIONS. I was appalled. Who does that? You wait until it's time, then you go and if there is something wrong, the Dr. does a C-Section. You don't plan it around family coming into town or the Dr.s vacation or some dumbass reason. They were saying, that their baby was too big to deliver normally...it was going to be a whopping 8 pounds! Idiots. Cowards. A few weeks later, I gave birth naturally to an 11 pound baby who was 24" long. It was NOT expected but there you are. He came out demanding a steak got God's sake. 8 pounds? Puh. A cakewalk. My first was 7 13.5. So what? The dr.'s had said my second would come quickly and weight probably around 8 pounds. Neither one was true. It was an entirely different situation, and if he had been the first, he would have been the last. I'll spare all of the details, but I thought he and I were going to die, and we would have had it not been for one nurse.

Now, this baby...he was....hmmmm....how should I say this? He was perfect. He slept through the night from the very beginning, he nursed perfectly right away, (of course I knew how to do it, too.) and when he emptied that food source we had to give him formula. HOT formula. He liked it STEAMING HOT. My first? His lips never touched a bottle once in his life. Nursing was all he would do. He went from that at 13 months old to sippy cups and/or straws. This one? He took it any way he could get it. He smiled ALL THE TIME, if he was with me. If he couldn't see me, he screamed and cried. Going to the store with him in the rear facing baby seat was hell. I'd have to pull over every couple of blocks and get out and open the back door so he could see me, kiss him, do whatever, then slam the door, get back in my seat and haul ass to wherever we were going, while he screamed. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. Guess what? He is now 18, in college and has not changed much since he was born. With the exception of screaming when he couldn't see me. Now, he just comes and checks on me every 10-15 minutes. He is a worry wart. He is sweet and caring and has never yelled at me or used foul language with me.

Two very different boys, but both my heart and soul. They are my reason for living. I honestly feel sorry for people who didn't have them. They are my everything. If everything else disappeared, I would be fine as long as I had them. I've always told them a story since they were babies..I told them that no matter where we were, no matter how near or far, that three of us were connected by a silver string. It would keep us connected always. They both still remember it, and it's gotten me through some hard times. They have grown up, but to me, they are babies. I would give anything to go back to their baby and toddlerhoods. We don't appreciate it when it's happening. We are too worried, or harried or whatever. Now, I could appreciate it. I would hold them more...even when they struggled to get down. I'd smell their heads more. I'd make bathtime longer because that is where they learned their ABC's and many fairy tales and all the sounds of animals. It was just them and me...or earlier, just Jack and me. I would let them make messes and not worry about it. I would cook with them more, allow them to finger paint more, go to parks and watch them play more...without the constant fear that they would get hurt. I'd have them out more where they could meet more children their ages who could be their friends.

I'll never get that chance. I will have to content myself with grandchildren, who, although I will love beyond all reason, better not show up for quite a few years.

This is the truest of love stories. This love cannot and will not ever die. Not even in death. We have a silver string.

It's Only Fair....

to tell you things that make me NOT crazy. I not quite sure the word would be "happy", as I am usually not feeling that feeling. However, the following don't make me want to punch, hit or shoot anyone.
Again, these are in no order.

1. My children smiling.
2. My children and how funny and handsome and smart and beautiful they are.
3. My husband who is deaf as a post and does almost nothing but sit in a chair and rant on the internet about his hatred of Obama, something else I can't remember and daring people to come take his guns away. (He has about a zillion.) Last year the fool asked for ammo for Christmas, and that is what he got.
4. My three doggies. Even though one bit my finger the other day and I think I have rabies. I'm pretty sure.
5. My niece, Zoe and my nephew, Jake. They are my bonus children. I adore them. They are in high school, now. I find that hard to believe. My Z is GORGEOUS. I am not even saying that because she is my niece. SHE IS GORGEOUS and she kicks butt at tennis. My nephew Jake is the MOST POLITE AND KIND young man I have ever in my life met. He says "ma'am" to me in almost every sentence. He is kind, he is extremely funny with a dry wit and so handsome. He is also brilliant and makes straight "a"s all the time.
6. My fool of a brother. I love him like he is my baby, but he is like...almost 45. Still. He's one of the people I love the most in the world. He is a wonderful man. He is the best father I've ever seen in my life. He is a dork. I love that dork.
7. My parents. (separately, of course.) My mother has done so much for my brother and me. She is crazy as hell, and I wouldn't have it any other way. She is funny and insane. I get my insanity from her side of the family, for which I would like to say, " THANKS A LOT YOU PEOPLE ON MY MOM'S SIDE OF THE FAMILY WHO ARE INSANE. JERKS."
My father, from whom I was estranged for several years. I have reconnected with him and it makes me feel like I am a better person for it. He is the only father I have ever had, and he is terribly flawed and has done some things that are better left unsaid and unspeakable, anyhow. But, he is my father.
8. My bed. I love it. It's where I sleep. I love sleep.
9. Books.
10. mani/pedis
11. makeup
12. shopping
13. travel
14. The beach. Any beach. I crave the beach.
15 . The anticipation of a big trip.
16. The health of those I love.
17. My car.
18. The luck I've had in my new school. I have a fantastic principal. I am very thankful for that.
19. People I can still consider friends of mine. I think there is like two. I don't have many friends. I find I like that most of the time. If I think too much about it, I get upset and wonder what is wrong with me. Well, I do that all the time with no prodding.
20. My psychiatrist. She has saved me more than once.

So, I guess that's it. I can't think of much else. Oh: Abraham, Jacob, Moses, all of them. I'm thankful for them. OH! and the founding fathers of our country. Do you know how lucky we are that those particular men were alive at the same time, had the same goal and worked together? They were brilliant and well....how lucky we are.
Bye.

Things that really make me insane.

Hey, all y'all.

Merry Christmas, and any other holiday we are just ending or haven't yet begun. As Kinky Friedman says, "May the God of your choice bless you."

So, I thought I would try and list the myriad things that bug the living shit out of me. Let's get started.

(this isn't really in any order.)

1. People who say, "At the end of the day..." Okay. At the end of the day, it's nighttime. Problem solved. Stop saying that, it's stupid and overused and makes you sound like an idiot because most of the people who say it, say it CONSTANTLY.

2. People who say, "It is what it is." REALLY? IT IS? I had no idea. I didn't know "it" was what it was! A revelation! SHUT UP IF YOU SAY THIS. That is a ridiculous thing to say. It is what it is. God, that is stupid.

3. Improper use of quotation marks. As in.."We are the best." on the side of a plumber's van or something. "We will earn your trust." Well, who on Earth said that? Quotation marks indicate someone has said or is saying SOMETHING. You can't just "put quotation" marks "wherever you want to." It's "stupid". "Call us for all of your plumbing ""Needs""". Where does this small piece of hell stop?

4.People who say, "Pacific" instead of "specific". DUDE. One is the largest ocean on Earth and the other is not. GET IT STRAIGHT.

5. People who say, "for all intensive purposes". WHAT THE HELL? Read that to yourself! It makes absolutely no sense! It is supposed to be "For all intents and purposes." Idiots.

6. People who...OH.. people who abuse animals You will surely end up in Hell. Period.

7. People who are talking and when you pass by, the either stop talking or they begin to whisper. Assholes, I don't care what you are saying, I have something to do, and you are being exceptionally rude. If you have a private conversation, go to a place where there are no other people. Common courtesy, people.

8. People who smack their food. I will punch you in the throat.

9. People who make ANY NOISE while eating. I'll destroy you.

10. People who snort their snot when they have a cold. Blow your damned nose, for the love of God. Animal.

11. People who spit. EVER. FOR ANY REASON. Disgusting, and nobody wants to see your saliva and whatever is mixed into it. Nasty asses.

12. People at the movie who rattle wrappers, smack their food, wear too much cologne, (yes, young soldiers, I am talking to you), guys who have to put an empty seat between them so nobody gets the wrong idea. We won't. You know why? BECAUSE WE DON'T CARE, WE ARE HERE TO SEE A MOVIE."

13. People who talk at all at a movie.

14. People who release intestinal gas at a movie.

15. Any burping at any time unless you have nowhere else to go to belch your ABCs, which is not impressive.

16. People who hit my car. WATCH WHERE YOU ARE DRIVING, DIPSHIT.

17. People who come to my door. For any reason at all...stay away. I don't want to buy anything, I will not convert to your religion no matter what you say or what your little pamphlet says. I won't attend services to try it out, and I hate ten speed bicycles, short sleeved white shirts and black ties. Go away and never come back.

Well, that's it for now. I have to go shower and get ready for this travesty called "Christmas".

Keep the change ya filthy animals.

Annual Holiday Letter

Well, hello everyone.

Here is the Freeman/Brewer holiday letter. It is intended to replace all of those boring, bragging insipid letters other people send out on Christmasy paper. They make me gag.

Anywho....here we go. 1. January was you know...okay. It was January.

2. February I had a birthday. Big whoop.

3. March...spring break. We did nothing.

4. April. My son had his 18th birthday.

5. May. We were entering the home stretch of the end of the school year. If you could hear me now, I would sound amazingly excited, but in

6. June, I was more excited because Tyler graduated from high school.

7. July. We did nothing at all.

8. August, I got ready for the new school year.

9. Our school was transferred to our new ultra swanky building. It's pretty sweet. I changed grade levels. I teach second grade now, and I love it.

10. September. Required to teach children who were born WAY after 9/11 about 9/11 and field all of the questions of 'how", and "why', etc. Big fun. My son Jack turned 22, my daughter Kira turned 23 and Wally turned 61. We moved Jack back into his dorm, Kira began grad school at the same school Jack attends, and my brother got his masters degree there, as well. It is hella expensive. I mean, if you ever want to put food on your table again, consider another school. Tyler began his first semester at the local community college, which he well continue to do for 2 years to get his basics out of the way. Jack's art is great, by the way.

11. October. Who cares.

12. November. My Mom's birthday and another reason to eat like hogs.

13. December. Who cares. All it is is an excuse to buy crap for everyone and feel guilty if you cannot. And eat like hogs.

So. Nobody won a Nobel Peace Prize. Nobody had her book published. Wally still sits at his computer all day and considers doing a load of laundry "housekeeping", therefore, I live in a filthy, disgusting pit. I want a new house.
I have the same three dogs, and as a matter of fact, the Westie bit the HELL OUT OF MY FINGER this morning and I just now stopped bleeding. I probably have rabies, since Emperor Wallace hasn't taken them to the vet. I just realized that I might have rabies. Great. Another pain in the ass. Oh. Here is some interesting tidbits:
Our air conditioner broke...what at least two, maybe three times. The final time was in the HOTTEST part of the year. I had already started back to school and our bedroom was 98 degrees. I was cussing the guy who fixes it, and he said he is the only person in the area who can work on our stupid geo thermal unit. FILTHY LIAR. I saw a truck outside of school for another company that specializes in geo thermal and they are local. Plus this ass hat who "fixes" (we think he is secretly jacking with it so it breaks every 2 months or so...)LIED OUT OF HIS ASS. (happy holidays...sorry for the not nice words.)
I would come home from work, and enter the pit of death otherwise known as our house, and he would be sitting there at the indoor part of this dumb fancy a/c heat unit and I would come up behind him and get close to his head and scream, "IT'S HOOOOOOTTTTTT!!!!!" and he would jump and promise he was ALMOST finished and we would have cool air. HE LIED. Over a WEEK. IT WAS OVER A WEEK WITH NO A/C. In August. In Texas. I was ready to go on a killing spree or bring a sleeping bag to a movie theater and dare them to kick me out. The A/C dude told us it would be TWELVE THOUSAND dollars to get a regular A/C outside unit. LIAR. OOORRR, if were REALLY, REALLY STUPID, who could dig up 24 grand for a new indoor unit for out geothermal. Guess which one won? NEITHER ONE. I told him to fix the damned thing right and he better get it right or no pay. He was not comfortable with me at all. I screamed at him every time I saw him. I even told him I was very sick of his face. He sort of chuckled. So I said, "No. Really. I. AM . SICK. OF. YOUR. FACE." Then he came back with a very witty quip: "Yeah, I guess I'm back a little too soon." I said, "Haha. I'm sleeping at your house until you fix this crap. You can sleep here...how's that sound???" He then began to pretend to wash something off with our hose. Assclown.
We got a bill. You know where it is? On the corkboard where it will sit until I'm damned good and ready to pay it. I AM NOT AN IDIOT. YOU RIPPED US OFF AND I NEVER WANT TO SEE THAT DUDE LARRY SMITH(yes, I used his name) AGAIN.


Then there is the problem with Wally's van. We call it the "vomit comet". It is a travesty to all car makers, car drivers, car dealerships, Henry Ford and whoever invented the car. When you ATTEMPT to turn the steering wheel(it has lost it's power steering capabilities.) it makes this sound..."ssssccccrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" very loudly. As far as I can tell, there are no brakes. You practically have to put your foot out the door to stop the stupid thing. When you go over any single bump or anything in the road, his car goes.."squeek, squeek, squeek". LOUDLY. His driver's side window won't roll down. One of the side doors opens on it's own. It smells really bad. He has rigged up so much crap inside for his "convenience" that nobody will ever take it as a trade. It is a DEATH TRAP. OH YEAH. I had to drive it one day because some mouth breather rear ended MY BRAND NEW CAR, and it was in the shop. As I was going downhill, it began going.."ding...ding...ding...and I was looking at the gauges...then it begins DINGDINGDINGDINGDING!" SO, I pulled over, and called the Emperor. I said, "Dude, your piece of shit just overheated." His response? "Hmmm." I was beyond furious. I said, "So what are you going to do, knight in shining shit?" He said, "Just give it a minute. It's the thermometer...it has a spring in it...blah blah blah..." I said, "Wait. This happens a lot? ARE YOU FREAKING SIMPLE????" He said, just keep going, and the sound will stop as soon as the spring or some shit releases.' I said, "You didn't even offer to come get me, you asshole." I hung up. I cautiously pulled back into traffic, went under the speed limit and watched the temperature gauge the whole way home. I got home with no further issues, except for the horrific dying cat sounds his van produces. I got out, stomped into the house and went on a horrific, (but justified) tirade. I'm pretty sure, hell, I'm totally sure I used foul language and threats to pieces of his body he would be really sad without. He told my Dad..."Well I have almost 100,000 miles on it! Gonna put another 100,000 on it. I began cussing and my Dad laughed in his face.

That brings us up to a couple of weeks ago. OH, then I got the real actual true flu. The doctor said, "Well, my dear...I'm afraid it's not a cold...it's the flu." Great. Bronchitis, pneumonia...it all goes hand in hand with me. Problem is...I have a job which requires me to be there or the kids will tear the room down. So, I had to get a substitute for three days. The kids were good, but I felt like real true crap. I am still achy and don't feel 100%. He said it would take a week to two weeks before I should go back to work. I went back in three days. Who can do a week to two weeks? Nobody.

Yesterday, my youngest and I got into some ridiculous argument about the Berlin wall, East and West Berlin, which was a sovereign nation (West Berlin) and I explained the damned Soviet Bloc to him. He then informed me with aggravating "I'm superior to you" that Paris had been a sovereign nation when Hitler invaded. I informed him that no, it had not. It had been a city. I said almost all of Europe and a good deal of Africa and who knows where else was invaded by Hitler so what did that have to to with anything. He disagreed with so much it was amazing. He then said the BEST THING HE HAS SAID IN A VERY LONG TIME. Get ready for it. He said, "Haven't you heard of Vicky France?" I sat there confused then realized he mean Vichy France and I almost peed I was laughing so hard. He kept saying, "What, what?" And I said, "Vicky France sound like a stripper, and it was VICHY FRANCE". I had to say it with the proper pronunciation , so he would think I knew what I was talking about, then I asked if he had ever heard of VICKYSWAW? He said, "no" and I said, "That is because it is Vichyssoise" Oh my god. It was so fun. He says the funniest things. He did something like that a few days ago, but I can't remember what it was. I have been calling him Vicky France for two days. He gets furious.

That is our year until today. I haven't run in awhile, because of my GD ankle. I hate my left ankle and I hate 19 year old me for getting into a wreck that almost had them have to amputate my left foot because every bone, ligament and tendon was torn up in my left ankle and all of the bones in my left foot were broken. I hate me at 19. Well, at every age, I guess.

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. (I didn't edit this. I'm not editor.)

Gloom, despair, and agony on me.

Hey people. I was going to close this damned blog but realized it had become a sort of journal for me, and I was recently told my my shrink to keep a journal so..yeah.

I haven't really seen anything weird, unusual or funny lately. Boring. I got a new car. Big deal. (It's pretty sweet, though.)

My oldest child doesn't live here anymore. He moved to another town to finish college. Problem is this: he did like 3 years of studies for becoming a paleontologist. Then one day he said, "You know, I think I am changing my major to Art." ._. That was my face, but shocked. I said nothing...then I began babbling, "But, but...you've ALWAYS wanted to be a paleontologist! What do you mean ART? What will you do with an ART degree for God's sake! They are called 'Starving Artists" for a damned reason! I have to pay for ART???? Holy shit." I was swirling in a whirlwind of disbelief, a bit of anger, (a tiny bit) and outrage at the amount of money this was going to cost. Everyone told me to let him be him and follow his dreams...blah blah...I said ok. He is now currently STILL following his dream of being in a dorm room and playing video games all night. His art is good, though. Very interesting. He is definitely more of a Salvador Dali type artist than anything else. Hey. I just looked over where I keep the painting of Lavender he did for me, AND IT'S NOT THERE!!! Dammit! It must have fallen when I careened into the dresser in the middle of the night. Now I have to find it. Now. Be right back.
Ok, with the help of Emperor Wallace, I got the dresser pulled out and retrieved my painting. There is an electrical plug back there, too. I can plug my new Scentsy back there. I use them with water and essential oils.

OMG. I was looking for a book in the living room last night, and I had to get on a ladder to look at the top shelves..(It's a behemoth of a built in that I designed several years ago...wall to wall floor to ceiling..still not enough room). Anyhow, I found all sorts of other stuff I had forgotten about. I found the book I was looking for, but I found other things that made me squeal.

Ok. If you are my age, and liked the Dallas Cowboys in the 70s and early 80s, you know who Cliff Harris and Charlie Waters are. I had a poster of Charlie Waters on my bedroom wall for YEARS. I would stare at his bare chest and his head or face or whatever and I was 100% positive that I would marry him. It didn't matter that I was 14 and he was old enough to retire from pro football soon. He was going to be mine. Forever. In our big mansion in Dallas. He would always wear that shirt unbuttoned and those jeans and hold a cowboy hat over his cash and prizes. Or maybe a football...either way. He would basically be there for me to stare at.

So...fast forward about 30 years and I am at the Texas Book thingie in Austin at the Capitol. I see a tent with a TON of old ladies snaking out of it. We walked past and looked inside and sitting there signing books were....CHARLIE FREAKING WATERS AND CLIFF WHO THINKS I DID SOMETHING WITH HIM HARRIS!!!! I grabbed my Mom and couldn't even speak. I just pointed. She became all flustered, too. Although her true Cowboy love was Bob Lily. She still peed her pants when Cliff Harris came over. ANYhow. I just strode right in through the side of the tent, and my mom followed me. I said, "Excuse me..." to all the old ladies who were shooting me looks like they wanted to beat me with with their canes and walkers and Werther's candies..and I walked up to the table with the two luscious hunks. I said, "Um, hi...you may not rememb.." and Cliff Harris said, "HELEN! How are you???" and I pretty much looked at the old ladies and threw them the finger, only I didn't do that, because I am a freakin' lady.

SO...I said hey and all that. I was speaking with Cliff but was staring in a freakish way at Charlie Waters. He finally evidently felt that freaky feeling you have when someone is staring intently at you. He looked over at me, and Cliff said, "Hey Charlie...she had your poster...she told me about it at Clayton William's party that night." I was thinking, "I did?" "Where? What??" And my Mother stood glaring at me in a very accusatory fashion. I did't give two shits at that point, I just smiled and batted my old eyelashes at him. He smiled and I almost seriously swooned. Now I know what that feels like. First off, I was surprised he A. Remembered me, and B. Remembered my name. Still, all I could think was.."charlie waaaaters...charliee....waaaaaters...come to me....marry meeeee..." and then I remembered Cliff Harris' ass. It was...how should I put this? It was...unstoppable. Much as it was when he was on the Cowboys. They were close friends then and I guess they had remained that way all these years. So, they had co-written a book about the Doomsday Defense and I had no real interest in it, but they FREAKING GAVE ME ONE. Then, Charlie said, "Let me have that..." and he turned to the page with a picture of that wondrous poster and wrote, "Helen...LOVE!" and his name. Most people wouldn't give a rip, but I almost licked that man's face. Cliff signed, it too. They both signed the inside cover. Then, Cliff reached under the table and produced this big photograph of the two of them playing football. Evidently, they have a website where you have to buy it. He gave it to my Love Charlie an Charlie signed it, and then Cliff wrote, and I shit you not, he wrote, "Helen, thanks for the night in Alpine, you helped me change my life Love, Cliff". I was very confused. My Mom was pinching the back of my arm spitting through gritted teeth, "WHAT DOES HE MEAN THAT NIGHT IN ALPINE!!!" I said, "Okay, it was great seeing you!" and I once again tried my Jedi mind trick on Charlie, which must have been off that day.

Well, I found all that shit last night. And I stared at all of the pictures in the book and found the one Charlie had written "love" in ALL CAPS, PEOPLE. I almost wept. Then, I found the photograph that they had both signed but Cliff let that little bit slip.... and I didn't give a shit. I called my Mom and told her what I had found.

here is some dumb article I found. It just sort of tells a little about them. And here is a video of my beloved in action: And here is a good picture of the man I love and still think I'll marry someday. (Even though I am happily married and I'm sure he is, too.)

So...yeah. I enjoyed that little bit of a walk down memory lane. Plus, Scott Laidlaw was a good friend of my Grandpa Gator and we got their Christmas cards every year. The serious ones, and then the funny ones. And to think...Charlie was in all of those. Oh, and Cliff, too. Captain Crash is what they called him. I just said "Hey, Cliff.." and it was off to the races.

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.