So while Donna was at the local grocery store yesterday, being traumatized by some poor creature's "smelling like ass" perfume, I was home plotting today's activities.
When I realized that today was the first day of summer camp for my kids, I decided that it was time for me to get back into somewhat of a routine as well. I delivered my three youngest to their proper destination this morning and then walked into the fitness center and signed myself up. Working out is not something I've ever done. Unless you include the month or so of Pilates classes I attended before the bottom fell out of my life. The last several months have been quite shaky for me -- full of ups and downs. Little by little I've crawled out of the hole and, with the help of many friends, have begun to patch up that horrible bottom. Today felt like a good "first"...the first of many days to come and I figured I might as well try to look my best -- and therefore, feel my best -- while I hit that particular road.
So off I went, paid the fee for the first month...and then stopped in my tracks. Where would I start? This place may as well have been some foreign land where I didn't speak the language. Should I take the machine next to the woman in her mid 60s? I thought that certainly I could look cool working out next to her. How much of a hard-ass could she be? But then she turned around and I realized that her ass was literally in much better shape than mine. Another look around proved inviting. There was a man, easily 70, preparing to hit the tread mill. Of course I could not look ridiculous next to him. While I admired his willingness to get up and at 'em, I felt absolutely sure this was my spot.
I got my iPod ready, put the ever present Blackberry in it's little perch on the machine's magazine rack, cracked a bottle of ice cold H2O and I was ready to roll. Or so I thought. This AARP card carrying senior citizen kicked my ass. I mean this guy could RUN. I did my best for 45 minutes or so...not a fast paced run...just a nice, steady good jog that produced a good sweat and a respectable rise in my heart rate. Giving up was not a option at first, but eventually I did...I didn't want the old guy's ego to swell too much.
Next on the agenda? The beach. It's a beautiful day here in LB -- 85 and full on sun. I took my three youngest plus a couple of bonus kids down for the afternoon. Our Long Beach lake front is stunning and I thought the kids would love a day spent hanging out with their friends. Now when I was a kid, a day at the beach was a treat. For sure not something we did very often. And the local pool? It always smelled funky and was filled with odd children who most likely ran with scissors and never learned to play well with others. But today I noticed some distinct similarities between my childhood and those of my kids and their friends.
As I looked along the lakefront I noticed kids skipping stones, playing on rafts, digging for water (as in digging to China for water), building sandcastles complete with twigs and leaves meant to be the trees surrounding the moat they'd built. I watched a friend teach my group of kids the proper body surfing technique -- the looks on their faces and the sound of their laughing was priceless. I fed them peanut butter sandwiches with chips and bottles of water...and turned a blind eye when their fingers got sticky with melting Twizzlers.
This is what their summer and mine should be about. Firsts...and lots of other things that never change.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Smells like yesterday's ass.....
So, I just got back from the local grocery store that basically will cost you $20 to just walk in there.....you know the kind of place: where you walk out with one plastic grocery bag and a $35 bill. The kind of place where a box of crackers will cost you $5 here, but $3.39 at WalMart....It's close, it's on "our" side of 12 and it's small enough for me to walk around the store on my crutches without breaking in to a sweat.
I've been going to this store since I was a squirt...on Saturday mornings, my Italian daddy and I would go and pick up cold cuts (lunchmeat for you non-guido types), later I would go with my mom to see who's who and who is wearing what and driving what....then, when I was old enough to go, solo, I would troll the aisles looking for a glimpse of some young, hot LB ass....I was always on the lookout for DC(and that doesn't stand for Diet Coke) the most beautiful boy in LB-land.....hmmm.....ok, back to this shit....it was always the place for social gathering and FIP sneering. Us at them...and they at us, the locals.
So, I drag my 2 offspring with me to the over-priced grocery, this afternoon....action packed was pushing the cart, (she was aiming at anything breakable, I swear to God) and the good one was crossing off items from the list. We caught up with a friend of mine in the baking aisle and started to discuss what we were making for dinner: homemade pizza for her, steak for us. We were just chatting along as the kids were about to kill each other.....when all of a sudden.....this cloud of ass-smell drifted from behind me. My friend had a look of sheer horror on her face when she saw what the ass cloud was emmitting from. All of a sudden, my kids got quiet, and their eyes almost popped out of their heads at this sight. I knew I would have to turn around...even though I was quite aware I couldn't escape with 2 crutches and 2 kidlets.
I held my breath, grabbed onto my crutches for dear life, and pivoted towards the smell. God as my witness, I think I experienced something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The smell of ass, no, let me reword that: the smell of yesterday's ass with a hint of crotch rot (I know, vulgar...no other word could describe it) was standing in front of me. Holy Hell, people. Holy Hell. Holy Fucking Hell. Can you smell that? There was a crooked lady leaning on her grocery cart, chewing on her dirty fingernails that I am pretty sure was shit and not dirt, wearing a size 3XL stained wife beater with her droopy tits swinging about. She had, I am almost sure, red pants with jizz stains on her thighs and orange crocs that she could barely cram her feet into. Her hair looked like a rodent was going to crawl out of it at any moment.....oh, and the smell....the smell.....I think the inside of my nostrils are burnt forever. I think I just puked in my mouth, a little.
I know I am not Miss America, by no means....but I make a huge effort to not run into this grocery store with out showering or primping, first. There are still some hot LB guys running amok in there, and you will never see my tits swinging in that grocery. There is an unwritten rule at this grocery store: only the beautiful (and clean) people shop here. The people that live on the north side of 12....well, some people on the southside do, but these are respectable and clean people....THIS ass cloud lady was not from our world and I am not sure how she got in.
Apparently, this crotch rot queen decided to follow me and the kidlets around the store. I can't move fast and I am trying to help action packed steer the cart while the good one keeps asking "what is that smell?" I am so paranoid that people are going to think it's us...I am trying to trot on my crutches to get to check out line. My kids start to head towards their favorite cashier (you know, the one that passes out dum-dum suckers...I love the coconut ones...)...out of the corner of my eye...ass cloud is trying to beat me to the same cashier....so I grab the good one with one of my crutches and stop him in his tracks...he caught on and pulled us into a breathe-free lane...aaahhhhh...relief. Wasn't even pissed off that my bill was $110 and my cart wasn't even full. Just get me out of here.....Holy Hell.
I've been going to this store since I was a squirt...on Saturday mornings, my Italian daddy and I would go and pick up cold cuts (lunchmeat for you non-guido types), later I would go with my mom to see who's who and who is wearing what and driving what....then, when I was old enough to go, solo, I would troll the aisles looking for a glimpse of some young, hot LB ass....I was always on the lookout for DC(and that doesn't stand for Diet Coke) the most beautiful boy in LB-land.....hmmm.....ok, back to this shit....it was always the place for social gathering and FIP sneering. Us at them...and they at us, the locals.
So, I drag my 2 offspring with me to the over-priced grocery, this afternoon....action packed was pushing the cart, (she was aiming at anything breakable, I swear to God) and the good one was crossing off items from the list. We caught up with a friend of mine in the baking aisle and started to discuss what we were making for dinner: homemade pizza for her, steak for us. We were just chatting along as the kids were about to kill each other.....when all of a sudden.....this cloud of ass-smell drifted from behind me. My friend had a look of sheer horror on her face when she saw what the ass cloud was emmitting from. All of a sudden, my kids got quiet, and their eyes almost popped out of their heads at this sight. I knew I would have to turn around...even though I was quite aware I couldn't escape with 2 crutches and 2 kidlets.
I held my breath, grabbed onto my crutches for dear life, and pivoted towards the smell. God as my witness, I think I experienced something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The smell of ass, no, let me reword that: the smell of yesterday's ass with a hint of crotch rot (I know, vulgar...no other word could describe it) was standing in front of me. Holy Hell, people. Holy Hell. Holy Fucking Hell. Can you smell that? There was a crooked lady leaning on her grocery cart, chewing on her dirty fingernails that I am pretty sure was shit and not dirt, wearing a size 3XL stained wife beater with her droopy tits swinging about. She had, I am almost sure, red pants with jizz stains on her thighs and orange crocs that she could barely cram her feet into. Her hair looked like a rodent was going to crawl out of it at any moment.....oh, and the smell....the smell.....I think the inside of my nostrils are burnt forever. I think I just puked in my mouth, a little.
I know I am not Miss America, by no means....but I make a huge effort to not run into this grocery store with out showering or primping, first. There are still some hot LB guys running amok in there, and you will never see my tits swinging in that grocery. There is an unwritten rule at this grocery store: only the beautiful (and clean) people shop here. The people that live on the north side of 12....well, some people on the southside do, but these are respectable and clean people....THIS ass cloud lady was not from our world and I am not sure how she got in.
Apparently, this crotch rot queen decided to follow me and the kidlets around the store. I can't move fast and I am trying to help action packed steer the cart while the good one keeps asking "what is that smell?" I am so paranoid that people are going to think it's us...I am trying to trot on my crutches to get to check out line. My kids start to head towards their favorite cashier (you know, the one that passes out dum-dum suckers...I love the coconut ones...)...out of the corner of my eye...ass cloud is trying to beat me to the same cashier....so I grab the good one with one of my crutches and stop him in his tracks...he caught on and pulled us into a breathe-free lane...aaahhhhh...relief. Wasn't even pissed off that my bill was $110 and my cart wasn't even full. Just get me out of here.....Holy Hell.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Just Felt Like A Rant
So...Donna has outted me. Nice.....
Let me start with this statement: No...I absolutely do not like to leave Long Beach. There are only three ways in...Through the marina and up Lake Shore Drive, down Karwick Road or down Moore Road and then left or right depending upon your destination. Okay...if you want to be sneaky you can scoot in through Michiana or whatnot, but those types of shenanigans don't fly with me.
And here's another statement: Why SHOULD I leave Long Beach. It's summer...what the fuck. The only reason I live here is because of the summer. And well, the soon-to-be-ex talked me into it...but that's a whole different talk show. But any case, our lake front is stunning and one of the best kept secrets around. If you spill our dirty little secret, I'll kick your ass, so beware. Lake Michigan is like a damned ocean from the vantage point of my beach chair. What's to leave? Would I leave to venture into Michigan City? Only when absolutely necessary. A Long Beach Snob? Perhaps, but I'm thinking God invented the internet for a reason. If I need to buy clothes for the girls? INTERNET. If I need to score cleats for my boys? INTERNET. If my oldest needs some godforsaken day-glow belt to add to his repertoire? INTERNET. If I need food? Not a problem....Al's is on MY side of Karwick and 12, thank you very much.
Now. This is not to say that I don't appreciate the occasional jail break. What's a jail break? Well, it's when I run away from home for a night or two and re-charge the mom-batteries. I get to pretend that I'm not just a mom and a soon-to-be-ex-wife. Always a good thing....see older posts for more info on that kind of nonsense.
Now, I've not posted in some time as we had a major storm roll through here a week ago today. A BIG ASS STORM. A storm that stole my electricity and forced me to live not unlike the Amish for five days. Yes, that's right. I was living like an Amish woman, albeit one with over priced highlights and cute high heels. A friend, after discussing NIPSCO, said "Fuck them!" And my response was "Really? Do you think if I took one for the team, they'd restore my power?" Okay...I really wouldn't go that far, but every now and then desperate times call for desperate measures. Just saying...
And yes, I did run to Donna's every damned morning like a junkie looking for crack in order to charge my Blackberry, iPod and Mac...but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Andy is allegedly looking to hit me up for the extra $15 that Nipsco is billing them this month, but that's a no-go. I'll continue to lurk in the shadows with all of the Bic's I've stolen from him....okay, fine...I didn't just use them to light candles...whatever.
Moral of the story? I don't have one...too bad, so sad...just felt like a rant...
Holy Hell...
Chips and FIPS
Where should I start? I know....let's talk about the mass consumption of potato chips I seem to have started this summer. I swear to God my lips are swollen because of the salt that has entered the cracks in my bulbous lips from the sunburn I continuously get from my lack of sunscreen applying ability.....I think I'm going to blame my bloated stomach and face on the salt consumption, too. What in the hell is wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me...I have an addiction to Hawaiian onion Krunchers...and cool ranch Doritos......and then I wash down those chips with Diet Coke....which is basically sodium water. It's a vicious cycle....and it won't slow down for me to get off.....(and as I am writing this, I am waiting for hubby to get home with Chinese food...Hello? MSG?)
So, now that I am out of chips and almost Diet Coke (which is the nectar of God, as far as I am concerned)...this means I will have to visit WallyWorld. That is the armpit of Michigan City....fuck me. I am really starting to appreciate Nanner's snobby excuse that she hates to cross 12.....I swear to God that everytime I go there, I spend the entire time shaking my head in disbelief....there must be some sort of whistle or siren or some sound that is emitted from speakers atop of this WalMart that only the most fucked-up pajama wearing, no bra whilst in a dirty white see-thru t-shirt wearing, dirty Sponge Bob slippers shuffling, NASCAR t-shirt with cut off sleeves so you can see nasty pit hair clad, thong peaking out off muffin topped jeans (WTF?) women screaming at their foot pajamed-clad kiddies can hear....blech.....or I could go to grocery store down the street and spend $45 on 2 bags of chips and a 12 pack of DC......
But if I go to that store...then I have to deal with the snobby FIPs....for all of you non-LB types...FIP stands for Fucking Illinois People....this is the swarm of summer people that invade Long Beach from Memorial Day to Labor Day. They have summer houses up here where the wife and kids stay while hubbys commute back and forth to the city (read: fuck their secretaries in their wife's house). I should shut my hole and just be thankful they spend their money here and help boost our economy...but, really...we're talking about me and my no-filter of a mouth. Now, I have lived in LB my whole life (except for the 4 1/2 years I escaped to Texas...but I got sucked back) and you would think that the locals would have some sort of advantage....but noooooo....these FIPs roll in with their big-ass SUVs and park in 2 spots at the grocery store.....drive down Lake Shore Drive (LSD) like fucking Indy race car drivers...and think they shit gold bouillons and that we should bow down to them. Well, you know what? Fuck You. (I just want to add here that a lot of these summer people are actually very nice and I actually consider some of them friends...key word being "some") Fuck You, all, unless you want to hire me and my boys to build you a house....then I'll kiss your gold-producing-shit-ass.....
So, now that I am out of chips and almost Diet Coke (which is the nectar of God, as far as I am concerned)...this means I will have to visit WallyWorld. That is the armpit of Michigan City....fuck me. I am really starting to appreciate Nanner's snobby excuse that she hates to cross 12.....I swear to God that everytime I go there, I spend the entire time shaking my head in disbelief....there must be some sort of whistle or siren or some sound that is emitted from speakers atop of this WalMart that only the most fucked-up pajama wearing, no bra whilst in a dirty white see-thru t-shirt wearing, dirty Sponge Bob slippers shuffling, NASCAR t-shirt with cut off sleeves so you can see nasty pit hair clad, thong peaking out off muffin topped jeans (WTF?) women screaming at their foot pajamed-clad kiddies can hear....blech.....or I could go to grocery store down the street and spend $45 on 2 bags of chips and a 12 pack of DC......
But if I go to that store...then I have to deal with the snobby FIPs....for all of you non-LB types...FIP stands for Fucking Illinois People....this is the swarm of summer people that invade Long Beach from Memorial Day to Labor Day. They have summer houses up here where the wife and kids stay while hubbys commute back and forth to the city (read: fuck their secretaries in their wife's house). I should shut my hole and just be thankful they spend their money here and help boost our economy...but, really...we're talking about me and my no-filter of a mouth. Now, I have lived in LB my whole life (except for the 4 1/2 years I escaped to Texas...but I got sucked back) and you would think that the locals would have some sort of advantage....but noooooo....these FIPs roll in with their big-ass SUVs and park in 2 spots at the grocery store.....drive down Lake Shore Drive (LSD) like fucking Indy race car drivers...and think they shit gold bouillons and that we should bow down to them. Well, you know what? Fuck You. (I just want to add here that a lot of these summer people are actually very nice and I actually consider some of them friends...key word being "some") Fuck You, all, unless you want to hire me and my boys to build you a house....then I'll kiss your gold-producing-shit-ass.....
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Hi. My name is Donna and I'm.....
So, I'm watching the Weather Channel....and I'm watching the Tornado Warning that has been listed for Chicago. Now....I know all of you think I'm this strong girl that's not afraid of a rat...but storms? Storms scare the shit out of me. I am admitting that I am a storm pussy. Hi, my name is Donna and I am a storm pussy.
Some people make comments to me how they love to sleep when it is storming out. Or how they love to go watch the storm come over the lake. Me? My heart rate is up and I am scooping up my keys, purse, laptop and iPhone so I can high tail it to the basement and assume my favorite place: under the pool table in the fetal position. I think it all stemmed from living in Wichita Falls, TX. They had a big ass tornado suck that city and spit it back out in '79...that is why I am a storm pussy. I blame it entirely on the WF tornado of '79....yep, yep I do.
I try to act cool and calm in front of my offspring...no need turning them into storm pussies, too. But, I am guilty of shuffling them down to the basement anytime I think the wind is just a wee bit too strong. Great....60 to 80 mph winds heading towards us....Nanner is in Chicago in the middle of this....maybe this weather is following her.
Nanner just got her power back on like 36 hrs ago. We had a huge ass storm come through on Friday with 90 mph winds....people all around us lost power and just now are getting it back. Nanner, being one of them, would show up every morning at 7:30 to juice up her gadgets...including herself, with coffee. Wait until Potter gives her a bill for $15 for using our outlets...ha ha.
Our area is now in a Tornado Watch, Flood Watch and a Thunderstorm Warning. I am literally shitting and pissing my pants as I type this because I am less than 20 ft from a window...I mean I have big trees in my yard and they could fall down on my house. I mean I could give 2 fucks about the house...but if it hits the garage....my prized possession, the black 'hoe, could get scratched....oh, and my kids...I don't want them to get squished, too....oh, and Potter....oh, and I really like my Tiffany lamps, and I would miss my plaid carpet...oh look, a squirrel!
Now we're placing bets on if our pizza will get made and delivered before power goes out and we get hammered by this storm. Hey, I have to feed my family...proprities. Action packed was sent to her room for being a PITA....I have to remember to go get her if sirens go off....FUCK....now we are in a tornado warning...I gotta go....change my pants, that is....and get my prized possessions into the basement....I wish I could get the 'hoe down the stairs....
Some people make comments to me how they love to sleep when it is storming out. Or how they love to go watch the storm come over the lake. Me? My heart rate is up and I am scooping up my keys, purse, laptop and iPhone so I can high tail it to the basement and assume my favorite place: under the pool table in the fetal position. I think it all stemmed from living in Wichita Falls, TX. They had a big ass tornado suck that city and spit it back out in '79...that is why I am a storm pussy. I blame it entirely on the WF tornado of '79....yep, yep I do.
I try to act cool and calm in front of my offspring...no need turning them into storm pussies, too. But, I am guilty of shuffling them down to the basement anytime I think the wind is just a wee bit too strong. Great....60 to 80 mph winds heading towards us....Nanner is in Chicago in the middle of this....maybe this weather is following her.
Nanner just got her power back on like 36 hrs ago. We had a huge ass storm come through on Friday with 90 mph winds....people all around us lost power and just now are getting it back. Nanner, being one of them, would show up every morning at 7:30 to juice up her gadgets...including herself, with coffee. Wait until Potter gives her a bill for $15 for using our outlets...ha ha.
Our area is now in a Tornado Watch, Flood Watch and a Thunderstorm Warning. I am literally shitting and pissing my pants as I type this because I am less than 20 ft from a window...I mean I have big trees in my yard and they could fall down on my house. I mean I could give 2 fucks about the house...but if it hits the garage....my prized possession, the black 'hoe, could get scratched....oh, and my kids...I don't want them to get squished, too....oh, and Potter....oh, and I really like my Tiffany lamps, and I would miss my plaid carpet...oh look, a squirrel!
Now we're placing bets on if our pizza will get made and delivered before power goes out and we get hammered by this storm. Hey, I have to feed my family...proprities. Action packed was sent to her room for being a PITA....I have to remember to go get her if sirens go off....FUCK....now we are in a tornado warning...I gotta go....change my pants, that is....and get my prized possessions into the basement....I wish I could get the 'hoe down the stairs....
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Facebook is the best thing around since sliced bread and Diet Coke. Although I am tired of people inviting me to join their farms, mafias, cafe worlds, underwater sea prisons, etc.....I swear to God someone is going to invent an fb sex den, next.....Pokes? Pokes are great. If they're from a girl, it's all "hey, thinking about you...LYLAS...tee hee"...if it's from a guy, it's all "I'm gonna poke you hard, baby....you like the way I poke you? I'll do it again....grunt grunt"....personally, I like my guy pokes. How else can I get poked without having to shave and change out of my granny panties....? Priceless.
The Inbox is my secret weapon. I can whip messages off to people left and right and never worry about running into them....because believe me, some of the shit I write in those inbox messages would make for a very awkward moment if I ran into the recipient.....except, this morning, I sent a message to a guy I know about gay men sex....I can't WAIT to see him. I'll let you know how that goes.
IM....this is still a bit clueless to me....I have over 400 fb friends, yet when I click on the box to see who's online...I never have more than 30 friends name pop up. So, do people block me? Are they hiding from me? What the fuck? I have things to say? I want to talk to you, but not in person...and I'm not ready to hand you my cell number so we can text....alas, I always have the inbox.
Statuses have gotten me in some deep shit. Apparently my fingers lack the same filter that my mouth does. My statuses will never ever be about sunshine and rainbows...oh Holy Hell. I like to ram my sarcastic wit down people's throats....I'm not sure how to be sweet...I lost all of the info I learned in debutante school. For Pete's sake, at least I can still curtsy. And I still have the dress....not that I can fit into it....
I love to leave comments on people's walls...although I have noticed at times that my comments disappear? It's that God Damned delete button...I wish I could virtually delete certain people. Hmmm....We can talk about that another day....
The Inbox is my secret weapon. I can whip messages off to people left and right and never worry about running into them....because believe me, some of the shit I write in those inbox messages would make for a very awkward moment if I ran into the recipient.....except, this morning, I sent a message to a guy I know about gay men sex....I can't WAIT to see him. I'll let you know how that goes.
IM....this is still a bit clueless to me....I have over 400 fb friends, yet when I click on the box to see who's online...I never have more than 30 friends name pop up. So, do people block me? Are they hiding from me? What the fuck? I have things to say? I want to talk to you, but not in person...and I'm not ready to hand you my cell number so we can text....alas, I always have the inbox.
Statuses have gotten me in some deep shit. Apparently my fingers lack the same filter that my mouth does. My statuses will never ever be about sunshine and rainbows...oh Holy Hell. I like to ram my sarcastic wit down people's throats....I'm not sure how to be sweet...I lost all of the info I learned in debutante school. For Pete's sake, at least I can still curtsy. And I still have the dress....not that I can fit into it....
I love to leave comments on people's walls...although I have noticed at times that my comments disappear? It's that God Damned delete button...I wish I could virtually delete certain people. Hmmm....We can talk about that another day....
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Consequences
What a day.....what a day. I am sitting here, burnt to a crisp and happy as a fucking clam. I am that much closer to being dark enough that I can convince y'all that I am 30lbs lighter and 6" taller....I figure between being tan and wearing a black bathing suit, it could happen.
Spent most of the day at the KW pool with Texas and Nanner...some other fellow mommas showed up with their offspring...so kids were entertained. Action packed had a couple of melt downs, but Mother of the Year, here, ignored her...and she eventually piped down. I should probably back up and tell you about my visit to Dr. Bone, yesterday. He removed the stitches and graduated me from the cock blocker air cast to a geriatric-looking rigid "shoe". It only covers my foot and not my whole foot and shin, so I am on track to walk, soon....I am still using my sticks...but, I decided to be all dangerous and just use one to walk down the winding sidewalk to the pool....It took me a while, but I made it....flopped my ass on a plastic lounge chair and all was good. Until, I could smell myself from the large amount of sweat emitting from my pits and pores. Texas was all like: "you should get in the pool....". Yeah, I took that as a dare, and gimp/limped my way to the pool stairs and hopped in. So, this big girl was all spread eagle on my blow up raft, floating away in the pool...discussing the hot bullshit gossip that is going on right now, and in the back of my head...I'm thinking: how in the HELL am I going to get out of this pool? I haven't mastered climbing up stairs...I'm still crawling my way up....Another mother came to the rescue and got me a plastic chair to get out....or, I'd still be in there....which maybe wouldn't be so bad? The water would feel good since I AM burnt to a crisp...consequences.
So this bullshit hot topic gossip is really eating at me...it's one of those things where you don't want to get involved, but then again, you don't not want to get involved. A beloved member of our school community is no longer involved with our school....and we can't stand it....we want her back...and we're hatching a plan...and I'm probably going to go to hell for it...oh well, never stopped me before, right? Consequences.
I'm going to take my crispy ass up the stairs, and hit a cold shower....and probably scream...which will irritate the family...ha ha....consequences....
Spent most of the day at the KW pool with Texas and Nanner...some other fellow mommas showed up with their offspring...so kids were entertained. Action packed had a couple of melt downs, but Mother of the Year, here, ignored her...and she eventually piped down. I should probably back up and tell you about my visit to Dr. Bone, yesterday. He removed the stitches and graduated me from the cock blocker air cast to a geriatric-looking rigid "shoe". It only covers my foot and not my whole foot and shin, so I am on track to walk, soon....I am still using my sticks...but, I decided to be all dangerous and just use one to walk down the winding sidewalk to the pool....It took me a while, but I made it....flopped my ass on a plastic lounge chair and all was good. Until, I could smell myself from the large amount of sweat emitting from my pits and pores. Texas was all like: "you should get in the pool....". Yeah, I took that as a dare, and gimp/limped my way to the pool stairs and hopped in. So, this big girl was all spread eagle on my blow up raft, floating away in the pool...discussing the hot bullshit gossip that is going on right now, and in the back of my head...I'm thinking: how in the HELL am I going to get out of this pool? I haven't mastered climbing up stairs...I'm still crawling my way up....Another mother came to the rescue and got me a plastic chair to get out....or, I'd still be in there....which maybe wouldn't be so bad? The water would feel good since I AM burnt to a crisp...consequences.
So this bullshit hot topic gossip is really eating at me...it's one of those things where you don't want to get involved, but then again, you don't not want to get involved. A beloved member of our school community is no longer involved with our school....and we can't stand it....we want her back...and we're hatching a plan...and I'm probably going to go to hell for it...oh well, never stopped me before, right? Consequences.
I'm going to take my crispy ass up the stairs, and hit a cold shower....and probably scream...which will irritate the family...ha ha....consequences....
Monday, June 14, 2010
No Other Way
So Donna is cooking...cooking food, cooking up a plan to fix the leak...cooking up a way to walk...cooking up a way to drive and not have Dr. Bone get pissed about it even though she bribes him with cinnamon rolls and I'm sure that's why the visiting Texan is baking at the moment. An overachiever from way back, the Gimp is....
Me? Spent my day running kids to and fro...that's what I do. Watched the teenager who resides here play basketball...worried about how I would ever get the house picked up so a hoard of his friends could show up tonight and trash the place all over again, while I enjoy it....spoke to a friend about some issues going on in his life and stressed my own. Hit a doctor's appointment and perhaps making a call that is ill-advised -- or NOT?
Me? Figuring out how to get through the week without being too much of a vulgar bitch....but I just love it so. What else would I do with my time? The vulgarity offsets the basic worries of life as a single mom....it makes me happy and gets me through. And why not laugh at life...what else can you do?
Now? I'm off to figure out how I'll feed the throngs of kids coming over tonight and how I'll stay awake long enough to be sure that nothing unsavory goes down. Then I'll sit back and realize how great things really are....
On deck for tomorrow? More of the same...and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Productive
That is the goal for this week. Texas and I decided last night that we were going to be productive this week. Hmmm...now I haven't been productive in 4 months...unless you count being a pain in Hubby's ass as productive. So, we got up this morning and showered (productive), put away laundry (productive), made beds (productive...do you see the pattern), drove around to take pictures of LB, stopped at Al's (although productive, it always turns into a social situation because everyone in LB goes to Al's at least once a day) and came home to be productive in the kitchen. Homemade cinnamon rolls (shit, my thighs just expanded as I typed that) with maple sugar-coffee frosting (pop! went my effing button) and chicken pot pie were made in the kitchen of love. That's what Texas calls my kitchen: the kitchen of love. You know what I call it since Texas has been here? The kitchen where Donna's ass will grow to the size of Cowboy Stadium. Oy Vay.
So, as cinnamon rolls are being placed in greased pans (with real, salted butter...I think Paula Deen just came at the thought), I hear a steady stream of water from the basement. Now Texas' daughter, Texas Jr, is residing in the basement for the summer....and I KNOW she didn't ask permission to install a koi pond or some other water feature down there...so after my freak out scream, everyone ran to the basement to find the water source. Apparently, the pipes from the kitchen sink have a nice big hole in it. And, apparently, nasty ass water from dish washer has now found it's way to my basement carpet. Yummy. I'm hoping my Step Daddy (who I lovingly refer to as McGyver) will be productive in fixing said leak.
Now, being a rebel and all...I, once again, have ignored Dr Bone's advice and borrowed a smaller air-cast/boot thingy from a friend down the street.....This thing only comes to my ankle and is about 2" thinner than the other boot. (I don't care what you people say...you CAN tell the difference if something is 2" smaller) I feel like a new woman. I have been walking without leaning to one side (my nickname could be PISA...ba dum dum) and think I may be able to show up with one crutch to Dr Bone's office, tomorrow. He doesn't know I traded boot AND he still doesn't know I've been driving. Will be driving myself there, solo, Thank You Very Much.
Oh, I also just polished off half a bag of chips while typing this blog....now THAT'S productive.
So, as cinnamon rolls are being placed in greased pans (with real, salted butter...I think Paula Deen just came at the thought), I hear a steady stream of water from the basement. Now Texas' daughter, Texas Jr, is residing in the basement for the summer....and I KNOW she didn't ask permission to install a koi pond or some other water feature down there...so after my freak out scream, everyone ran to the basement to find the water source. Apparently, the pipes from the kitchen sink have a nice big hole in it. And, apparently, nasty ass water from dish washer has now found it's way to my basement carpet. Yummy. I'm hoping my Step Daddy (who I lovingly refer to as McGyver) will be productive in fixing said leak.
Now, being a rebel and all...I, once again, have ignored Dr Bone's advice and borrowed a smaller air-cast/boot thingy from a friend down the street.....This thing only comes to my ankle and is about 2" thinner than the other boot. (I don't care what you people say...you CAN tell the difference if something is 2" smaller) I feel like a new woman. I have been walking without leaning to one side (my nickname could be PISA...ba dum dum) and think I may be able to show up with one crutch to Dr Bone's office, tomorrow. He doesn't know I traded boot AND he still doesn't know I've been driving. Will be driving myself there, solo, Thank You Very Much.
Oh, I also just polished off half a bag of chips while typing this blog....now THAT'S productive.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Jail Break
So.....I had me a bit of a jail break yesterday....
I pawned off the kids (thank you very much) and high-tailed it to Chicago with my friend Kevin. Yes, Kevin! You're infamous now that you've made the blog!!! Kev and I road-tripped to Chicago and hit up the Blues Fest. Then, after only three hours and four over-priced Miller Lites a piece we were back on the road to Indiana. It was a great day, filled with human oddities and all sorts of nonsense.
Let's see....we saw some great blues, played by...well never mind, that's best left for another day...We saw Hispanic men who sold watermelon from the back of trucks (while repeatedly rocking the sign of the cross -- what was THAT about?). Then there was the character who thought it proper to wear a bright orange Bears parka and a ski hat -- considering it was close to 90 and muggy, I'm thinking it was ill-advised, but whatever. Then there was the senior citizen in pink who wore Chiquita banana head gear -- it was quite the look, by the way....the two cyclists in full on bike shorts and helmets who got their groove on and danced the day away....Oh, yes...it was a day.
Upon returning to LB Kevin and I picked up some of our respective demon spawn and hit up the Tree House as the four Miler Lites just didn't do it for us. I was able to get some school house gossip out of Kevin and his 7th grade daughter -- Donna, we really need to talk -- and after giving my kids entirely too many quarters to play random video games, I then enjoyed the Anderson deck with a friend and a bottle (or two) of Chardonnay. Shocking, I know. The quote of the night? When my seven year old said, "Erica? When did my mom stop paying you to be our nanny and start paying you to be her friend?" Nice....I've now sunk to an even lower low....sweet.
Later? Found that I had entirely too many teenagers playing hoops in the driveway...not even sure how many....the neighbors for some reason frown on this...the LB cops have been summoned a couple of times due to their shennanigans, but I could give a shit. The sound of kids shooting free throws makes me a happy girl. And then later? I couldn't find my oldest kid who had only returned from Chicago a short time ago. Always nice when you lose of 6'3" 16 year old. Good parenting, no?
It's now 7:00a.m. -- just back from taking my ungrateful 14 year old to a basketball tournament.....he's an incoming freshman and playing with the varsity team in a tournament taking place in some god-forsaken corn field three hours south of here. Proud of him, but honestly...anything even three minutes south of LB is a nightmare. I so dodged THAT bullet....
The moral of the story? Jail breaks are good for the soul. Get yourself one and you'll find your batteries re-charged and your attitude adjusted.
Just saying...
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Baby Steps....or things I did today that I'm not really supposed to?
I seriously need to learn how to walk. I need to figure out how to move my left foot in front of my right. I have no problem dragging it to meet the right...but I cannot seem to get it to move ahead, like a step. I know it's a mental block...but seriously? I'm just about 40, and I can't walk. Am I going to be a gimp forever? Because that will suck and I cannot fathom the thought of Nanner following me around with that God Damned flip for the rest of my life. Although, I must say...I enjoy standing erect (yes, I said "erect". Enter penis joke, here...geesh) and not having to sit in rolly chair all day....but this walking thing....Holy Hell. Dr Bone wants me to wean myself off of crutches in the next 2 weeks...actually, 12 days....yes, I'm counting...wouldn't you?
So, I tried walking with one crutch...that didn't work. This stupid air cast/boot makes my right leg 3" taller than the other. So, not only I'm a gimp...I'm a limpy gimp. Yes, I said that...and yes, that's funny. I thought I would just bi-pass the one crutch thing and go straight to walking...but that's not working, either....so, if any of you readers have any advice....think about what you are going to type, mull it over in your head that I will not mock you, and THEN type it into the comment box at the end of this post....I will not accept anything that includes the following: be patient, it takes time, or stop whining...
Ok, so like the BEST part of the day...is that I took Andy's beemer for a drive around the neighborhood...uh huh...I DROVE!!!! For the first time in 4 months....4 MONTHS! Can you believe that shit? I drove. I can use my elephant foot on the accelerator and I brake with my left foot. I don't have the real hang of it quite yet...so you may not want to follow me! I'm thinking I am going to sneak over to McDs to get a Diet Coke before I DRIVE myself to a meeting...ha ha...did you catch that? DRIVE. MYSELF. Hot Damn! Holy Shit! Oh, should I mention Dr Bone said not to drive for 2 weeks? Ok, 12 days....but who's counting?
So, I tried walking with one crutch...that didn't work. This stupid air cast/boot makes my right leg 3" taller than the other. So, not only I'm a gimp...I'm a limpy gimp. Yes, I said that...and yes, that's funny. I thought I would just bi-pass the one crutch thing and go straight to walking...but that's not working, either....so, if any of you readers have any advice....think about what you are going to type, mull it over in your head that I will not mock you, and THEN type it into the comment box at the end of this post....I will not accept anything that includes the following: be patient, it takes time, or stop whining...
Ok, so like the BEST part of the day...is that I took Andy's beemer for a drive around the neighborhood...uh huh...I DROVE!!!! For the first time in 4 months....4 MONTHS! Can you believe that shit? I drove. I can use my elephant foot on the accelerator and I brake with my left foot. I don't have the real hang of it quite yet...so you may not want to follow me! I'm thinking I am going to sneak over to McDs to get a Diet Coke before I DRIVE myself to a meeting...ha ha...did you catch that? DRIVE. MYSELF. Hot Damn! Holy Shit! Oh, should I mention Dr Bone said not to drive for 2 weeks? Ok, 12 days....but who's counting?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Doomed
Okay you Gimpy piece of wonderfulness...
Here's the deal...
1. I'm over the snark about serious shit....time for both of us to get past the bad attitudes of others. It's been a rough few days...perhaps several months...time to get back to bitching about in- breds, wearisome morons and those we feel are beneath us. Because, yes, we're kinda fun...
2. I need your snark....it's like crack to me...a day without some inappropriate, ill-placed, badly derived comment from you is like a day with freaking sunshine...it's just a no-go.
3. Let's face it...I'm 44, a soon to be divorced mother of five....certainly there is some funny it that. Or at least there better be because if not you may find me and my brood shacking up with Cabana Boy Andy, Shanna, Evanne, the dogs and God knows who else in the white trash kiddie pool all summer.
4. As you pointed out....I cannot date locally as you will kick my ass. The LB gene pool is quite small. In fact, I cannot date anyone at all as my girls won't let me talk on the phone, let alone let me leave the house without a full on interrogation. Thinking they have a future with the CIA or perhaps simply giving tips to Jack Bauer.
5. See the above.
6. I'm doomed to hanging with you for the rest of my life and experiencing zero love life until I'm too old to care or do anything about it. After all, Mia is only 7...wtf.
7. The above pretty much explains why you're stuck with me...get used to it, doll.
Where's the bitch?
So, I decided to experiment with not being the snarky, smart-ass bitch that I usually portray on fb....and instead be a funny, tight-lipped individual....well, that lasted about all of 9 hours.
I actually had a request to be a bitch. I mean, a request? To be a bitch? That's golden. That's like words I need to put on a tshirt or a bumpersticker. A bitch request? Coming right up. I aim to please...
I know I should reign myself in at times...but I thoroughly enjoy not having a mouth filter. I am so effing giddy when I can tell I have obviously shocked someone by my mindless bantering of pubic hairs and gay men donning hoop skirts....come on! Where's your sense of humor? Obviously stuck in your ass.
I am pretty much convinced I was put on this earth to babble about body parts and other unmentionables....I love that word: unmentionables....ha ha...we're not talking panties, kids....we're talking boobs...and big, saggy, ugly boobs....MY boobs.....To all you itty-bitty-titty-committee girls: I am searching for some back alley doctor that would be happy to transfer some of my bodacious boobage into your mosquito bite chest humps....it could happen. Until then, I will roll or stuff them in my boulder holder. Until they get all sweaty....ha ha...THERE'S a mental picture!
So, the bitch is back. It's not really a warning...it's a statement.
I actually had a request to be a bitch. I mean, a request? To be a bitch? That's golden. That's like words I need to put on a tshirt or a bumpersticker. A bitch request? Coming right up. I aim to please...
I know I should reign myself in at times...but I thoroughly enjoy not having a mouth filter. I am so effing giddy when I can tell I have obviously shocked someone by my mindless bantering of pubic hairs and gay men donning hoop skirts....come on! Where's your sense of humor? Obviously stuck in your ass.
I am pretty much convinced I was put on this earth to babble about body parts and other unmentionables....I love that word: unmentionables....ha ha...we're not talking panties, kids....we're talking boobs...and big, saggy, ugly boobs....MY boobs.....To all you itty-bitty-titty-committee girls: I am searching for some back alley doctor that would be happy to transfer some of my bodacious boobage into your mosquito bite chest humps....it could happen. Until then, I will roll or stuff them in my boulder holder. Until they get all sweaty....ha ha...THERE'S a mental picture!
So, the bitch is back. It's not really a warning...it's a statement.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
And so it goes...
So....I'm having a bad effin' day....I'm realizing that in the midst of my divorce the entire house is my problem...cleaning, maintenance, lawn care, etc. Zero fun. Also realizing that my kids aren't used to pitching in....One teen is living in Chicago this summer and working -- and I miss him dearly -- , one is just off of the high of 8th grade graduation and deserves to have a bit of fun....the others? NIne and under and while capable of help...still young.
So here I sit...single and handling it. And while I'm okay with that...it's still a bitch. After 23 years of "bliss" (ha....) I find myself handling life alone. The up side? LB has been team Nanner....so many of my friends have had my back....some are long term great friends who I knew would be there...some were people I cared about and who cared for me and stepped it up and had my back...some were folks that I reconnected with and and have made my transition easier and more pleasant than I can say...and some were people who I never even realized gave a damn...and they proved their love to me nonetheless..
My point is that no matter where you go...no matter the your circumstance...always realize that things could be worse....that things will get better and that friends will come and go....It all works out in the end, one way or another....I've been blessed and am blessed....
Nonetheless...I will still search out the oddness in Michigan City and Long Beach...and will get on with the funny....freak shows, inbreds and all sorts of oddness will be reported on tomorrow.....but until then, thanks for the love....I needed it today. And just needed to say it...
xoxo
N-
So here I sit...single and handling it. And while I'm okay with that...it's still a bitch. After 23 years of "bliss" (ha....) I find myself handling life alone. The up side? LB has been team Nanner....so many of my friends have had my back....some are long term great friends who I knew would be there...some were people I cared about and who cared for me and stepped it up and had my back...some were folks that I reconnected with and and have made my transition easier and more pleasant than I can say...and some were people who I never even realized gave a damn...and they proved their love to me nonetheless..
My point is that no matter where you go...no matter the your circumstance...always realize that things could be worse....that things will get better and that friends will come and go....It all works out in the end, one way or another....I've been blessed and am blessed....
Nonetheless...I will still search out the oddness in Michigan City and Long Beach...and will get on with the funny....freak shows, inbreds and all sorts of oddness will be reported on tomorrow.....but until then, thanks for the love....I needed it today. And just needed to say it...
xoxo
N-
facebook...what NOT to post if you don't want Donna to mock you.
I will be the first person to admit that I am a facebook whore. I am on it close to 24hrs a day between my laptop and precious iPhone...I can poke, stalk and peruse endless photos of all of my "friends".....and when I mean "friends", I mean the 400+ people that I allow to know lots of shit about me...I recently dumped over 80 people because If I don't hear from you or see Alfalfa as your profile pic, I don't need you.
Now, I have found a lot of friends that I take full responsibility of dumping after I fled from Texas....It killed me all of these years to not have some of those people in my lives...I have found the ones that are important, and the ones that I could give 2 shits about...I love to defriend, and I get off on blocking....If you're an atheist, and insist on shoving your beliefs down my Catholic throat...do not request me as your friend. I don't need you or your anti-Jesus jokes and calling my friends Christian Child Molesters....Geesh.
Oh, and if you're full of sunshine because your precious Mary Jane or Polly Sue learned a new note in music class...I will mock you. I can go on and on about how precious action packed is, but, really....do you care if my 5 year old can count to 100 in tens...no, you want to know if I tucked or rolled my boobs into my bra this morning. (Tucked, thank you very much)
So, come on, people....bring out your inner snark....don't post about precious things and sunshine and puppies...I want to see a plethora of snark and sarcasm....I live for that shit.
Now, I have found a lot of friends that I take full responsibility of dumping after I fled from Texas....It killed me all of these years to not have some of those people in my lives...I have found the ones that are important, and the ones that I could give 2 shits about...I love to defriend, and I get off on blocking....If you're an atheist, and insist on shoving your beliefs down my Catholic throat...do not request me as your friend. I don't need you or your anti-Jesus jokes and calling my friends Christian Child Molesters....Geesh.
Oh, and if you're full of sunshine because your precious Mary Jane or Polly Sue learned a new note in music class...I will mock you. I can go on and on about how precious action packed is, but, really....do you care if my 5 year old can count to 100 in tens...no, you want to know if I tucked or rolled my boobs into my bra this morning. (Tucked, thank you very much)
So, come on, people....bring out your inner snark....don't post about precious things and sunshine and puppies...I want to see a plethora of snark and sarcasm....I live for that shit.
Rumors
So, besides being the title of one of the best albums of the 70s EVER, it is a word I hate to hear.....
The past 24 hours have been filled with rumors that really made my heart stop. Both of these rumors have been clarified....but it makes me wonder why people start these things....
Do they realize that the people that are the subject of these rumors, usually have no way to defend themselves? Do they realize that these rumors can change the way these people are seen by others? Do people realize when they spread rumors, THEY look stupid?
Having been the subject of rumors, myself (I know, shock, right?)....I must say that I had the eery feeling that everyone I encountered had heard of false rumor about me and were probably thinking of it while sweetly shaking my hand. The feeling I had of how I had to make sure correct information needed to be released to get me out of rumor....ugh...How I wanted to go all psycho on rumor-spreader-person, but somehow, the inner-debutante over took these emotions and stopped me....all though a good face bashing would kind of feel good...anyone have a punching bag I could borrow?
So, if you want to spread rumors...don't sit by me....you want to verify or clarify? I'll be waiting....
The past 24 hours have been filled with rumors that really made my heart stop. Both of these rumors have been clarified....but it makes me wonder why people start these things....
Do they realize that the people that are the subject of these rumors, usually have no way to defend themselves? Do they realize that these rumors can change the way these people are seen by others? Do people realize when they spread rumors, THEY look stupid?
Having been the subject of rumors, myself (I know, shock, right?)....I must say that I had the eery feeling that everyone I encountered had heard of false rumor about me and were probably thinking of it while sweetly shaking my hand. The feeling I had of how I had to make sure correct information needed to be released to get me out of rumor....ugh...How I wanted to go all psycho on rumor-spreader-person, but somehow, the inner-debutante over took these emotions and stopped me....all though a good face bashing would kind of feel good...anyone have a punching bag I could borrow?
So, if you want to spread rumors...don't sit by me....you want to verify or clarify? I'll be waiting....
Monday, June 7, 2010
People. Are. Stupid.
I was on the phone with a good friend recently and he said something really amazing. He said, "Nancy...people are stupid." I really like that statement because it's true. And it's simple and succinct. And because, well, it's TRUE. People are stupid. Not all of us and not all of the time...but I often shake my head at idiotic things that people do every single day.
Sometimes it's the customer service wench who doesn't know anything about the product she represents....that was my friend's dilemma. All he wanted was replacement parts/additions for his California closet set up. And the bimbo on the phone said "Yeah...I GUESS we have extra hanging bars for you. I don't know..." and she trailed off. He doesn't suffer fools gladly and that was the end of THAT conversation, to be sure.
Once it was the dumb ass who I hired to tear down and build a deck at my home. We signed a contract and he went out for a cigarette. I never saw him again. Must have been one hell of a smoke.
This morning it was one of my neighbors. Not sure which one, but at 6:30 a.m. when I was lying in bed feeling flu-ridden and not very cute and the neighbor thought it wise to let her howling mutt outside. This hound proceed to bark -- no YELP -- for almost 5 hours. I was THIS CLOSE to taking a garden shovel to the side of this creature's head. Never mess with me on the first day of summer vacation when I'm actually able to sleep past 6 a.m. A very bad idea...
Now while the above examples are certainly annoying...we get past them and find people who are NOT stupid to do the work necessary, etc. It's a pain in the ass...but usually all works out in the end. No real harm done.
Now on to my point...the truly stupid people are those who have an agenda for their stupidity. They are so stupid, they're almost smart. Add in a black heart and we've got ourselves a ball game. Today I was given an example...one that I cannot speak of at the moment...of a few truly stupid people who have an agenda. One that is borne of spite. One that will surely lead to a fallout in our community that I'm not happy about.
Donna, after hearing the story is feeling the need to bash someone's face in (way to roll with the chipper attitude, Sunshine...would expect nothing less of you!). Of course, she's still gimpy and doesn't move fast enough yet to do any real damage, but I'm thinking of forming a posse. Picture the scene from Young Frankenstein where the villagers gather with torches and threaten to take down the monster. I'm liking that idea right about now.
So the moral of the story is that in the future I will do my best to remember that some people truly are stupid...but they mean no harm, they just don't know any better. It's those who DO know better that we have to watch out for.
I'm pissed and not feeling the "funny" right now -- tomorrow I'll go out into Michigan City and search for some inbred that amuses me and then I'll rant about him. I'm thinking WalMart or the local Dollar General might be a good starting place.
Holy Hell...
Sometimes it's the customer service wench who doesn't know anything about the product she represents....that was my friend's dilemma. All he wanted was replacement parts/additions for his California closet set up. And the bimbo on the phone said "Yeah...I GUESS we have extra hanging bars for you. I don't know..." and she trailed off. He doesn't suffer fools gladly and that was the end of THAT conversation, to be sure.
Once it was the dumb ass who I hired to tear down and build a deck at my home. We signed a contract and he went out for a cigarette. I never saw him again. Must have been one hell of a smoke.
This morning it was one of my neighbors. Not sure which one, but at 6:30 a.m. when I was lying in bed feeling flu-ridden and not very cute and the neighbor thought it wise to let her howling mutt outside. This hound proceed to bark -- no YELP -- for almost 5 hours. I was THIS CLOSE to taking a garden shovel to the side of this creature's head. Never mess with me on the first day of summer vacation when I'm actually able to sleep past 6 a.m. A very bad idea...
Now while the above examples are certainly annoying...we get past them and find people who are NOT stupid to do the work necessary, etc. It's a pain in the ass...but usually all works out in the end. No real harm done.
Now on to my point...the truly stupid people are those who have an agenda for their stupidity. They are so stupid, they're almost smart. Add in a black heart and we've got ourselves a ball game. Today I was given an example...one that I cannot speak of at the moment...of a few truly stupid people who have an agenda. One that is borne of spite. One that will surely lead to a fallout in our community that I'm not happy about.
Donna, after hearing the story is feeling the need to bash someone's face in (way to roll with the chipper attitude, Sunshine...would expect nothing less of you!). Of course, she's still gimpy and doesn't move fast enough yet to do any real damage, but I'm thinking of forming a posse. Picture the scene from Young Frankenstein where the villagers gather with torches and threaten to take down the monster. I'm liking that idea right about now.
So the moral of the story is that in the future I will do my best to remember that some people truly are stupid...but they mean no harm, they just don't know any better. It's those who DO know better that we have to watch out for.
I'm pissed and not feeling the "funny" right now -- tomorrow I'll go out into Michigan City and search for some inbred that amuses me and then I'll rant about him. I'm thinking WalMart or the local Dollar General might be a good starting place.
Holy Hell...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Minus Hardware
Yes, I made it in time to the pre school graduation, although I was a bit loopy and apparently white as paper...I rolled into the gym in my wheelchair that I hope to return to the Service League this week...and action packed ran into my arms before her big ceremony...had to be at surgery center at 6:30 that morning to have "hardware" removed from my foot. Can't put all of my weight on it, just yet...but the hardware is gone...that is cause for celebration in it self...I go see Dr. Bone Monday morning to see what our plan of action is...I'd like to drive next week....I have McDonald drive thru girls to visit...large Diet Cokes are a buck right now!
The highlight of my summer, besides walking, was that my soul sister and her teen-aged daughter are moving to LB for the summer. I will have a teeny bopper dwelling in my basement thru August....Sister will be in the guest room and their 4 legged family members will be residing in the sunroom....so the house is filled to the brim with humans and canines for the summer....it will be good for all of us, we all need to be surrounded with love for awhile, since we've all had a stressful couple of months dealing with various obstacles...They pulled into town from Texas, yesterday, and I can tell my blood pressure has dropped significantlly. Nice. And, of course, Nanner has showed up coincidentally in time for dinner last night....and again, this morning, for breakfast....smart cookie, she is.
So, this summer, is going to be spent on the beach and on my deck...hoping me and sister can experiment with some yummy new dishes in the kitchen....so much more fun to cook for a larger crowd than for 2....I know a couple of days will be spent with our toes in the kiddie pool ala white trash country club...but as soon as I am standing upright and walking, I will be copping a squat in my beach chair by the shoreline dipping my toes in the lake while watching action packed run amok in the sand...one can only hope.
The highlight of my summer, besides walking, was that my soul sister and her teen-aged daughter are moving to LB for the summer. I will have a teeny bopper dwelling in my basement thru August....Sister will be in the guest room and their 4 legged family members will be residing in the sunroom....so the house is filled to the brim with humans and canines for the summer....it will be good for all of us, we all need to be surrounded with love for awhile, since we've all had a stressful couple of months dealing with various obstacles...They pulled into town from Texas, yesterday, and I can tell my blood pressure has dropped significantlly. Nice. And, of course, Nanner has showed up coincidentally in time for dinner last night....and again, this morning, for breakfast....smart cookie, she is.
So, this summer, is going to be spent on the beach and on my deck...hoping me and sister can experiment with some yummy new dishes in the kitchen....so much more fun to cook for a larger crowd than for 2....I know a couple of days will be spent with our toes in the kiddie pool ala white trash country club...but as soon as I am standing upright and walking, I will be copping a squat in my beach chair by the shoreline dipping my toes in the lake while watching action packed run amok in the sand...one can only hope.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
I can see the light.......
This is the week of a lot of things coming to an end....my appointment with Dr Bone, yesterday, went smoothly...and since I have behaved and not put a single ounce of weight on my foot the last 3 months: I will be having surgery to remove pin and screw from said foot on Friday morning at 6:30 am....Why so early, you ask? Well, my sweet little action-packed mini-me will be graduating from Pre School at 9:30. This is the end of life with my baby...I know have a "big girl" that will be entering the world of kindergarten this fall. Plaid Catholic school uniform and all.
So the week of "endings" is really the beginning of the next phase of our lives: I cannot wait to walk....I cannot wait to wake up at 2am, because I am on the verge of peeing in my bed, and be able to go to the bathroom without stumbling around on crutches. I cannot wait to forgo hoping down the stairs praying to the bone God that I do not break my neck. I cannot wait to tail the slow ass tourists driving down 12 in my big black 'hoe. Hell, I can't wait to return the rolly chair to my parents' basement. Good riddence. And action-packed is going to be a big girl....I don't know if I am ready for this. It's not like I haven't already seen the hand on the hip and pointed finger while talking to me. I haven't carried her in 3 months...but I have a feeling I will be able to grab hugs and kisses and hear "Momma/Mommy" for a little while...until she's 13 and I am the evil bitch from hell.
I am hoping to see the light at the end of this proverbially tunnel I have been sitting in for the past 6 months. It seems when it rains, it pours in Masonville...and we are ready for a bright, sun-shiney day. Dammit.
So the week of "endings" is really the beginning of the next phase of our lives: I cannot wait to walk....I cannot wait to wake up at 2am, because I am on the verge of peeing in my bed, and be able to go to the bathroom without stumbling around on crutches. I cannot wait to forgo hoping down the stairs praying to the bone God that I do not break my neck. I cannot wait to tail the slow ass tourists driving down 12 in my big black 'hoe. Hell, I can't wait to return the rolly chair to my parents' basement. Good riddence. And action-packed is going to be a big girl....I don't know if I am ready for this. It's not like I haven't already seen the hand on the hip and pointed finger while talking to me. I haven't carried her in 3 months...but I have a feeling I will be able to grab hugs and kisses and hear "Momma/Mommy" for a little while...until she's 13 and I am the evil bitch from hell.
I am hoping to see the light at the end of this proverbially tunnel I have been sitting in for the past 6 months. It seems when it rains, it pours in Masonville...and we are ready for a bright, sun-shiney day. Dammit.
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