Tuesday, October 27, 2009

I don't wanna grow up

I don't wanna grow up and you can't make me! Bet my mother has never heard that before. Remember when you were younger and every sentence started with.... When I'm 18 I'm gonna...stay up late, eat candy for breakfast and dinner, stay out after dark, ride my bike in the street, not go to school, kiss the boys, run with scissors, what ever it is I wanted to do.

I couldn't wait to grow up. Now, I wish I had at least slowed down a little, but since I didn't, I'm living like a child now!

I love the holidays, more than my daughter I think. And Halloween, well, what could be more fun than that? I dress up every year, and every year, it gets more and more ridiculous.

This year I have a naughty nun and a sexy Strawberry Shortcake costume. I think Strawberry Shortcake is winning. At work I'll be Cruella Deville. That's who I was last year when I went to a Halloween party with Marty. He was Darth Maul, took us forever to do his makeup.

All my friends get into Halloween too. I read an article today that said Halloween is such a big money maker because of all the adults that dress up. I don't remember my parents dressing up.

Mo wants to be Alice in Wonderland, for now that is, I'm sure it will change, she is usually something dead.

I don't remember having this much fun at Halloween when I was a kid, maybe it was because my parents didn't let me drink. Whatever the reason, it's fun now.

And this year, my dates are going to be a priest, a nun and Rainbow Brite, and we are going to walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of a joke doesn't' it? Well, it just might be, only we won't let anyone in on the punch line.

Sleep is my friend

We all have our talents, mine is sleeping. I am the world's best sleeper, it's one of my favorite things to do and I do it well.

I'm usually falling asleep walking up the stairs. Mo tucks me in now because I can't stay up past ten, hey five comes early!

Lately though I've notice something strange. I don't move, at all, all night. Is that normal?

I get in bed, roll on my side and I'm out like a light. I dont' even have to make my bed, just pull the blanket back in place.

Joyce said I sleep like a corpse, I say, corpse's don't sleep! Silly rabbit,I'm just a good sleeper.

When I was first divorced Mo slept with me every night. That lasted about a year. When she finally slept in her own bed I was on cloud nine. I took up the whole bed, I rolled, I tossed, I turned, in the morning, even the bottom sheet was off the bed.

Now, I don't even use the other side of the bed. I better make sure I rotate my mattress otherwise that other side will still be brand new.

Random thoughts for a snow day.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Irrational fears

Everyone has them. Even if we don't talk about them. Other people's irrational fears are funny, our own, not so much.

My sister, Angie is afraid of praying mantis'. Can you believe that? She is so afraid that once when we lived in an apartment, she went to go outside and there was a praying mantis on the screen door so she called maintenance to come remove it. Our friend Marianne managed the complex at the time and thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard so the next day when Angie came home from work there were plastic praying mantis' everywhere, on the chairs on the porch, the doorknob, it was hysterical. Angie didn't think so.

She is also afraid of tumbleweeds. She almost killed us all when a "herd" of tumbleweeds ran across the road. That's what she called them, a herd.

I'm afraid of clowns. I never used to be, but now that it's dark in the garage when I go out in the morning I know that clown from It is out there waiting for me. My friend Joyce thinks it's vampires that are waiting for her. I told her vampires aren't real, how can you be afraid of something that isn't real? She's afraid of midgets too.

Mo's afraid of the dark. When I get up in the morning every light in the house is on because she can't walk down the hall to her bedroom with the lights off.

What makes one person afraid and another not? I know my sister was never attached by a praying mantis or a herd of tumbleweeds. I've never encountered a clown hell bent on killing me and nothing lives in the dark in my house. Yet we are afraid.

I love Stephen King, I've read everything he has ever written, at least twice, except It. What the hell was he thinking? Give me cars that want to kill me, a cemetary that brings animals and people back to life, telekinisis, rabid dogs, anything but clowns.

Maybe that will be the story line of my next novel, saving the world, one clown at a time. We could use praying mantis', vampires, tumbleweeds and midgets to get rid of them. I think I'm on to something............

When I grow up............

There comes a time in every one's life when you have to start thinking about what you want to be when you grow up. I want to be a writer.

I want to sell many, many novels, buy a beach house in North Carolina, eat bon bons, travel to exotic places and have affairs with the gardener, the pool boy, the pizza delivery guy......you get the picture.

Anyway, now that I'm 27 ( don't you dare correct me, this is my delusion after all ) I've decided it's time to buckle down and start getting serious about this writing thing.

I have three half finished novels that I've been working on, half-heartedly, for ten years. So, today is the day, I'm going to start writing.

First, I have to get ready. I made signs that say " If you want to be a writer, sit down and write" I have taped them everywhere. I've saved what I've written in several places, in case my computer crashes. Now I'm ready.

But first, I have to do some laundry, Mo needs a specific shirt clean for her job interview tomorrow. Plus, I really should do some yoga, I've been putting that off, and I need to do it for my health. Ok, now I can write.

Oh wait, I need to fold the laundry, then I should take a shower so I don't have to shower in the morning. While I'm in the bathroom I see that the trash needs to be emptied and there is shampoo spilled on the shelf. Ok, I'll just clean the bathroom.

Bathroom clean, I'm really ready now. Just a quick check of Facebook, then myspace, then my email, oh wait, there's a dating site I've been talking to this guy on.....

The list goes on and on. Before I know it, it's time to go to bed, 5am comes early you know. I'll write tomorrow.

Am I the only one who does this? Is it a fear of not being good enough? Or is it laziness. I really, really want to write, I love it, it's like nothing I've ever done before. Why don't I do it?

I should just finish this post and write, I think I will. But first... I think I'll make a sandwich.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Today, we cry

The world lost a wonderful man today. Wayne Edwards. My ex husbands oldest brother died as a result of ALS otherwise known as Lou Gehrig's disease. He contracted this from exposure to agent orange in Vietnam.
ALS is not a kind disease. It took the body of a vibrant, active man while leaving his amazingly intelligent mind intact.
Wayne knew what was going on and was powerless to stop it, by the end he was powerless to do pretty much anything.
My heart is breaking for his wife, Arlene, their time together was much too short, for his children, for his grandchildren.
But right now, mostly, my heart breaks for Steve. My ex husband has had his share of issues with all of his siblings, just like the rest of us, but he loves them and they love him. He is the baby, Stevarino.
Steve has lost two brothers in just a few short years, both gone too soon. Wayne is the oldest and only 63. I can't imagine his pain and hope that he and the rest of his siblings are comforted knowing that where ever we go when this is over, whatever you believe, there is a special place for men like Wayne. Men who did what they had to do to take care of the ones they love and paid a heavy price for it.
Mo and I love you Wayne, and we will miss you.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Reality TV? Seriously............

Ok, not a reality TV fan, not really a TV fan but reality TV is like the shit you scrape off your shoe, you keep looking at it because you have no idea how it got there.

It seemed innocent enough, American Idol, of course I only watch the first few episodes where they have the people who are so horrible you just have to laugh. My favorite was Keith from season one with his "Like a Virgin" remake, he is my hero.

I hear people at work talk about these shows all the time, but I never watch them. The funny thing is, even if you have never seen them there is no escape.

Jon and Kate plus 8. What the hell is that? I only saw commercials and Kate was always yelling at someone. Does having eight kids really make you TV worthy?

And then there are the Duggar's. A quiverfull? That's a religion? You know why God said go forth and multiply? Because people rarely lived past thirty and you needed kids to work the family farm and take care of the ones left behind when Mom kicked the bucket from having too many babies.

I don't know about the rest of you but pushing one screaming six pound person from my vagina was enough to last me a life time. Pregnancy was great, it was giving birth that sucked. Although I imagine that being pregnant while you still have three under 5 would not be so much fun.

If only I had continued until my uterus needed rebar to hold it in then I too, could have my own reality show. Cheese and rice.

Still, those shows are fairly benign, as long as you don't think of the damage being done to the children when everything they do is played out in front of a TV audience.

Then there is the Octomom. What was she thinking, and how did it ever sound like a good idea- even in her head?

" I know, I'll have fourteen kids, no job, no spouse, call 911 all the time because I can't keep track of all these kids, fight with my mom, have the maturity of most twelve year olds and America will hate me so much they will be compelled to watch."

Nothing is as bad as the balloon boy saga. This kids parents have already been on wife swap, they love the lime light. Their fifteen minutes of fame was over. So what do they do? Concoct an elaborate scheme to get all of America involved in the fate of their youngest child, tell the children before hand and coach them on the lies they will have to tell, and then set their plan in motion.

I, like everyone else, was holding my breath, praying that their little boy was safe. All while thinking, what were they doing, why wasn't that balloon secure so a little boy couldn't get hurt in it. And when the balloon landed and there was no one inside, the image of him falling 8,000 feet or so to his death would not leave me.

He wasn't in the balloon because he never had been, when they interviewed him, he vomited, twice, trying to keep the lies he was supposed to be telling straight.

So, someone, in their infinite wisdom, gave this child's parents exactly what they wanted, a TV show of their very own. Where are the people who are supposed to be protecting these children? Certainly their parents are not up for the job.

What happened to the days when it was a parents job to teach children that lying is never appropriate? Now, parents coach their children on the lies to tell during interviews.

What happened to child labor laws? Now, parents have more and more children and put them in danger, just to get their own TV show.

But, before you get on your high horse and say " How dare they?" Think about the reality shows you watch. Maybe they are not even close to being like these but they all lead to one thing- the exploitation of someone for someone else's gain.

Seriously, would you have ever though about the Kardashian sisters if it were not for reality TV?

Never give in to sudden urges

I really don't know what's wrong with me, or more specifically, what was wrong with me on Saturday.

It started like any other Saturday. Laundry, vacuuming, purging (we'll talk about that later) and a trip to Home Depot.

I was finally going to finish the spare room so I could move my stuff in there and start sanding my room. Just a typical Saturday. Until I paid attention to a radio ad.

It was an ad for a car dealership " Come on down" so I did what any brain dead parent of a sixteen year old would do, I yelled for my daughter.

" Hey Mo, wanna go car shopping?" Wait, who said that? No sooner had I thought it then we were in the car on our way to the dealership.

The rest of the day was spent on autopilot. I did not know this woman who was buying a car from some sleazy little car salesman who kept calling me Mom.

Fortunately, Mo was on it, she test drove many cars and finally fell in love. Even when the sleazy guy tried to talk her into another car she stood firm, too bad I didn't.

So now we are the proud owners of a new car. Mo has learned to change a brake light, check the oil, the antifreeze and the windshield washer fluid.

Me, I just signed the check. What was I thinking?

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Cyberslut Bingo

Last night Joyce and I went to CyberSlut bingo. We played bingo with lesbians, gay guys and cross dressers, oh my! It was a freaking blast!

Joyce was a little nervous so we had some vodka tonics in the parking lot before we went in and she made me promise not to let them make her do anything.

Upon entering we were greeted by a 6 foot tall man with an additional three feet of yellow hair, he was also wearing silver boots with a big heel. What a cutie! His name was Fonda Dick, then there was Monaco Lewinsky dressed like a little dutch girl with big red hair and huge knockers. And don't forget Freda Snatch, they were amazing, and the most fun you can have in a room full of gay men on a Friday night.

Since it is October this months theme was Halloween so lots of people were dressed up. My favorite was two older guys, in their mid to late fifties, dressed as cowboys, chaps and all. They were broke back mountain, it was hilarious!

This bingo has some different rules. It is to benefit the Utah Aids Foundation so all the prizes are donated, things like dinner for two at a nice restaraunt, an overnight stay at Hotel Monaco, and a bag filled with goodies.

You just play basic bingo but they have a saying for almost every number, my favorite:

Oh sixty three,
oh sixty three,
I wanna lick you
where you pee
Sung to Old Christmas tree in case you hadn't guessed.

If you are down to one number you have to get up and spin around in a circle with your hands in the air. There are also party fouls, things like talking on your cell phone- they will take it and talk to whoever is on the other end, not good if it's your grandma!

Also, no hands or arms on the table, if you are caught and you are a girl, you have to wear this huge, silly drag queen wig, if you are a guy, you have to take your shirt off and don't get it back until you have collected twenty bucks, so you have all these cute shirtless guys running aroung collecting dollar bills. Too bad they are all gay.

During a fifteen minute break Joyce and I were talking about how much fun we were having.

Me- They all think we are lesbians.
Joyce- No they don't, I don't care anyway.
Me- It's because you wore your lesbian shoes.
Joyce- You are so rude, what about you, you look like a twelve year old boy.
Me- That's the way you like them baby.

We had the best time and plan to go again. When we were leaving an older lesbian couple told us to have a good night. Joyce said, they really do think we are lesbians.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Rant of the day

I’m surrounded by idiots. There really is no other explanation. Yes, I know I’m one of them, but my idiocy shows in different ways. Today I am on a rant about people who bilk the government, charity organizations and churches instead of getting a job.

I understand that lots of people cannot work and need these programs, they can’t go away, if they do there will be even more problems than there are right now. My issue is with the people who can work, but simply choose not to, they have plenty of excuses, lots of reasons why they can’t work.

My first example is a person I used to be friends with, let’s call her Marie. She is funny, smart, articulate and refuses to be a contributing member of society. Marie has two children, neither of which she currently has custody of, but she uses their names and ages when she goes to the bishop for help.

Marie is an alcoholic, she has lost custody of both of her children. DCFS paid for her to go into a rehab facility as part of a plan to regain custody of her youngest. In other words, you and I paid for her to go into rehab, I know many people who work hard and either they or their children have drug or alcohol issues but their health insurance doesn’t cover rehab and they make too much money to qualify for any programs. There really aren’t a lot of programs for people who are indigent, that’s why so many substance abusers are homeless. Marie got lucky that her daughter’s social worker could pull some strings to try to get help for her.

So what does she do? Marie, in her infinite wisdom, WALKS OUT OF THE PROGRAM!!!! She doesn’t need it, this isn’t really for someone like her, she says all of this while looking down her nose, as if she is better than the other people in the program. Marie says things like- “They have drug problems, I don’t.” Well, no you don’t but you did drive your child to school so drunk that the teachers took your keys and refused to let you have them back- and this was at 9am.

I am amazed by other peoples stupidity and their sense of entitlement. Marie has not worked since she got pregnant with her youngest, the state of Utah and the LDS church has supported her for the last six years.

When she walked out of this program that the taxpayers of Utah were kind enough to pay for, she was right back up to her old tricks. The state and the church are again paying for her apartment, her utilities, her food, her cell phone, her internet. And she doesn’t see a problem with this.

Did you know there is an expensive frozen food delivery company here in Utah that will allow you to pay for your home delivered food, with your food stamps? Me neither, but Marie used them to buy me ice cream for Christmas- there’s one Christmas present I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy. How many children go hungry while Marie buys ice cream, to give away, with her food stamps?

The second example is a woman I work with, she has two daughters, late twenties, they both have toddlers, no baby’s daddies on the scene in this world. All day long I hear this woman over in her cubicle on the phone telling her daughters how to apply for housing, who to call for sub for Santa, what stores they can use their food stamps when they shop. Not only will these girls not work, they are not even ambitious enough to actively seek help, their mom does it for them.

Every year I do sub for Santa or pick names off the Angel tree, I stopped two years ago. I got the name of two little girls, 5 and 7, talked to their mom about what they wanted, spent more money than Sub for Santa recommends but I didn’t care, these two little girls were going to have a nice Christmas.

A week before Christmas I make arrangements to drop off the gifts. The house I deliver the gifts to is huge, in one of the best neighborhoods in the valley. The mom answers the door and tells me to just put the gifts in the front room. She was talking on her cell phone and really didn’t have time to talk to me. I walk into the front room, dragging bags and toys and wrapping paper and tape and stocking stuffers. The front room looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine, the tree is at least ten feet tall and beautifully decorated, the entire home is beautifully decorated for Christmas. There are so many presents under the tree, the majority of which have tags with the little girl’s names on them. The mother didn’t even acknowledge me the whole time I made trips in and out of the house. She never said goodbye. She never said thank you.

I feel like an idiot, I didn’t help anyone. This wasn’t a case of giving to someone who might not otherwise receive, this was all about greed. I have discovered that people who are living off government or church or charity can never get enough. They know there is always someone else out there who will give to them as well, and they want it all.

There has to be a better way.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Nothing a bubble bath can't cure

What a day! It started out bad and quickly went downhill. My beautiful Mo and I argued on the way to work this morning, never a good start to a day. I hate argueing and being "grunchy" with her, it makes my whole day sad.

It was an emotional day. I wallowed in self pity. Damn him! I'm glad he is out of my life but sad for the time I lost to him. I'm also repeatedly kicking my own ass for being such an idiot.

Work was hard, I just wanted to come home, crawl in bed, cry, scream and throw things, but work stops for no man.

I held it together, barely. We went bowling which made me laugh, very welcome on a day like today.

Then on my way home my best friend called, she was upset because I lied to her. I lied to everyone, I was so tired of hearing the crap for dating him that I just lied. I'm not dating him, we are just friends, hanging out. Now of course they all know I lied.

It was much better than seeing that look on their faces that said they knew it was just a matter of time. If everyone else could see it, why couldn't I?

I told my friend I couldn't talk about it, I really couldn't, thinking about it made me cry, forget about talking about it.

Mo and I went to a birthday party, I just wanted to come home. My plan for the night was a bubble bath, a glass of wine and crying until my head exploded or I couldn't stand my nose running anymore, whichever came first.

We got home and I prepared for my bath of misery. Mo was not happy that I was shedding a single tear over him, let alone a bathtub full.

I got everything together, lit the candles, got my wine, poured the bubble bath under the running water and waited for the water to be high enough to turn on the jets. I may be a crybaby but I want my privacy when I cry.

Finally I turn on the jets and settle in for a good cry. As soon as the tears start I realize I've used WAAAAAAAAAAAAy too much bubble stuff and this is turning in to the bubble bath that ate the world. I quickly turn off the jets and call Mo and ask her to bring me a towel.

My baby walks in, sees me covered up to my chin in bubbles and starts laughing, then she throws bubbles at me. Giggling we start to have a bubble fight when I realize I have really, really huge bubble boobs, which makes us laugh harder. Then I do the Santa beard with the bubble boobs and the sad tears are gone, replaced by ones from laughing so hard.

"That's enough, I'm done feeling sorry for myself, I'm getting out of here before the bubbles take over the house."

As Mo leaves the bathroom I tell her I love her and thank her for making me laugh. Had I really forgotten what's important? The sound of my teenager laughing at my Santa beard and bubble boobs as she throws bubbles at me made me realize, I have everything I need.

I may have stumbled, and fallen, and lost my way for a while, but I have so very much to be grateful for, so many people who love me, even when I'm an idiot.

The pity party is over, I had an entire day to kick myself in the ass for this mistake but you know what? In the grand scheme of my life he is a blip on the screen, and one day I will look back and be grateful for the lesson.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Prelude to a post

Ok, this is an introduction to the post that follows. I haven't blogged much lately, haven't been able to find the funny in the every day. There hasn't been a lot of funny lately, just a lot of hurt. I found out my boyfriend ( now ex boyfriend) had another girlfriend. The post that follows is about that, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Once this is out of my head we will return to our regularly scheduled blog.

Candy Coated Misery

What do you wear to meet your boyfriends other girlfriend? Hmmm? Really, I didn't know the answer because I never asked the question, never thought I would need to know. So, after Jessica invited me out I poured myself a glass of wine and googled it. Not that it really mattered, who cares? We were just two women who were going to dump our hurt into each others laps. We understood.

Just for the record, google was no help, not that I really wanted or needed suggestions, it didn't matter, I just wanted to take my mind off the real question.

How did I not know this? How did I believe him? How many times was I dropped on my head as a baby?

For the record, Jessica, is a wonderful woman who is much braver than I. We have known about each other in an obscure way for the past year. I knew when he met her, we broke up, I knew when he told her about us, they broke up, after that things got very muddled.

I guess it's true that we only see what we want to see. I wanted to believe all the bullshit he spoon fed me, and so did she. Jessica said it best, she said " I knew something wasn't right, out of the corner of my eye I could see it, but I would just make myself look somewhere else and pretend I saw nothing."

We both did. We both fell in love with a man who only loves himself. We shared him, unknowingly, one weekend with her, one weekend with me, a night here a night there, just enough to cover his trail on both ends.

Jessica finally took the bull by the horns and emailed me, asked the question that was in the back of my mind but I was too afraid to ask, too afraid to find the answer I didn't want to hear.

We decided to meet, now there is an uncomfortable situation if there ever was one. She invited me out and I figured since she was brave enough to take the first step to ending our misery, it was my turn. I showed up at the bar she suggested.

We had a few beers and discovered all the lies he told us both, most of them the same lies, guess it was easier for him to keep track that way. And you know what? I like her. I really, really like her. She is bright and funny and pretty as hell. She absolutely doesn't need a loser like him in her life.

Then she reminded me that I don't either. One thing we discovered during our talk was that he took so much away from us. Mainly, he took our self esteem, our sense of self worth. Before meeting him we were both pretty sure that we deserved good things, he made us believe otherwise.

Well no more my friend. Sometimes good does triumph over evil, sometimes we do the right thing, and sometimes we women stick together.

There are plenty of women, friends of his wives, who knew and didn't tell us. Who listened to us say we loved him and were going to have a future with him, and they said nothing. Would we have listened? I guess we'll never know. Instead we listened to each other and found the strength to walk away.

It's scary. Sometimes it's so much easier to stay in a relationship, even a bad one, then to go out in the big bad dating world again. I still cry at night, but this time I welcome the tears, I know that when they stop, this is really over and I will get on with my life.

Thank you Jessica, for giving me back myself, for becoming a real person to me instead of just who he threatened me with whenever things didn't go his way.

Together we will get through this and all he has is the memories of what he lost. And he lost more than he will ever know.

Monday, October 5, 2009

My baby, she is so grown up but still sleeps under her baby blanket. I made that blanket for her first birthday out of outgrown clothes. It has been patched so much that the only thing on it that is still original is the back. She can't sleep anywhere without it.

Isn't life wonderful. All I have to do is look at her and I know that whatever purpose I have in life was fulfilled when I pushed this child out of my girlie parts.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Another Saturday night in Utah

It's General Conference weekend. If you don't know what that is, you don't live in Utah, or even visit very often.

General Conference happens twice a year. The leaders of the predominate religion (those damn Mormons) give instruction to church members, there are five two hour sessions.

Some people go in person to hear the speakers, some sit home where we can watch or listen to it around the clock if we want. And some of us, get our drink on.

General conference always talks about women, how important they are, in the home and at church, so, we went out and celebrated women.
We started at the strip club. Strip clubs are some of the best places to people watch and not just the strippers!

First there was this little rock star wanna be. He looked like one of the guys from Poison, the one that always wears the bandanna over his head with lots of black eye liner. That was him, he danced for us, we gave him a dollar and someone in our group sucked tequila out of his belly button and rubbed her tongue raw licking the salt off his stomach.

It wasn't me, I hate tequila, even if it is on a cute twenty somethings six pack. Eventually we got bored, you can only watch strippers for so long before they all look the same, kinda like Chinese people.

So, since it was Celebrate Women night Marianne had two of her favorite lesbians pick us up and take us to the gay bar. Marianne said she had been there before and learned the Lesbian dance- they have their own dance? Who knew.

Turns out it was Cupid Shuffle, which I learned at the Westerner with my sisters- actually I learned it the night Angie got married but that's a whole different story.
So we were cupid shuffling as soon as we got there, and then we danced to the apple bottom jeans song and all I could think of was that video on you tube with the little boy in the red shirt dancing to that, I tried his moves, it wasn't pretty.

Then, suddenly we realize, we are not going to pick up men here, hello, its a freaking gay bar! Who's idea was this anyway?

We called our trusty designated driver- thanks Greg, you rock- and he came and picked us up and took us back to the strip club and we made it before last call.
The end of the night at strip clubs is pretty funny. Marianne and I sat in the end of the night perv seats for a while, gave us a better view of the guys, then we all went outside to smoke.

Ok, it's the end of the night so all the guys who haven't found someone to go home with are desperately seeking the love of their night. And we are laughing at them.
One guy was showing off his east side tattoos- cause apparently gang wannabees are every woman over 40's dream man, and here comes Alabama.

This man was tall, I mean tall, he towered over Marianne and I and Mr. East side. So Alabama starts showing us him "pure Alabama" tattoos. That's when we notice he has one tooth, right in the front.

Marianne topped them both with their pure east side and pure Alabama shit, she showed them pure Murray, they will never be the same.

Last call, Greg shows up and we are headed out the door when pure east side and another guy in a wife beater start talking to us.

Wife beater is checking out Kim, and then he says the magic words, "I just got out of prison"

Kim and I are both like, " Ummm, dude, you might not want to tell the ladies that when you first meet them." He was a little offended.

Then we ran giggling and got in the car with Greg. It was fun and we almost talked a guy in the parking lot into stripping for us, but then his wife called!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Baseball, black eyes and trailer trash

I just got off the phone with a friend and we were talking about how klutzy people can be. I said that I never really had that problem, thank God. She laughed and said "Really? Where have you been for the last couple years?"
Gotta love those friends who never, ever let you forget all the stupid things you have done. Since this blog is all about over sharing and giving you way too much information about my life, here we go again!
A few years ago I was on a coed softball team at work. I played second base, something I was very proud of since I wasn't all that athletic as a kid. I was good at it, I can catch and I can throw, not far but being in the infield you don't have to throw far. Anyway, it was our first 9 o'clock game. We were in the outfield when the pitcher threw the ball to me because someone was rounding second. I lost the ball in the lights and caught it with my eye. I dropped to my knees not really sure where the ball had hit me, just that it had, and I wasn't going to let all these people I worked with see me cry. Don tried to help me up but I just kept crying for Angie, she was in the outfield, we worked together.
Angie came running in, helped me up, took one look at my eye and told her boyfriend, who was the pitcher, that we needed to go to the hospital.
We go to the hospital, I get seven stitches all while my sister makes fun of her boyfriend for hitting me with the ball.
In the morning, I call in to work, no way am I going to work with a black eye and stitches. I send Mo off to school and start cleaning the house. About an hour later I get a phone call from the principal asking me to come pick Mo up because she has been suspended for PDA (public display of affection) She's in eight grade.
I call Steve to see if he will go get her, I don't want to be seen like this and I figure he will lecture her so much I won't have to. Not gonna happen, he is working over an hour away. Shit.
I go to school, try not to make eye contact with anyone, sit in the principal's office while he tells me what a delinquent my child is and what can I say? I am the poster child for spousal abuse. Eventually he feels sorry for me and stops lecturing me and turns my child over to me.
We walk to the car, my blood is boiling but I don't want them to call child protective services so I wait until we are in the car to start yelling.
" What were you thinking? Holy hell, can't you just go to school and stay out of trouble? Look at me, do you think I wanted to come out looking like this? I work so freaking hard so you have a good life, not a white trash life, a good life, and this is what I get?"
" Mom, I didn't do anything! Stop yelling at me, it wasn't my fault!"
I'm about to lose my mind " Mo, I come to school, with a black eye to pick you up because you have been suspended for PDA in the hallway, with a GIRL no less, we look like white trash. They probably think your father beats me."
" Don't worry Mommy, they all know you and Daddy are divorced."
"Great, they think my boyfriend beats me, that's soooooooo much better."
Just a friendly reminder that we are all just a black eye away from the trailer we came from and this is just the first of my klutzy moments. Next time, I actually fall out of a house.

Fall is here

October 1st. Can you believe it? When I started this blog it was going to be all about finding myself. Figuring out who I am now that I'm someone else. Guess what? I still have no freaking idea!
My beautiful Mo is maturing by leaps and bounds, taking PSAT's and SAT's and ACT's and a bunch of other things I don't understand. I know it has something to do with college but what, I couldn't tell you. She wants to be a kindergarten teacher. I'm still wondering how she can possibly know what she wants to be when she grows up when I still have no clue, and I'm already a grown up!
Some days Mo is so sure of herself, she knows who she is and what she wants. I just want her to sit still and let me figure this out.
I'm a helicopter parent, I hover. Lovely image isn't it? If I could have put her in a bubble and protected her from the big bad world I would have, but I can't, society frowns on chaining your children in the basement. Don't they know whats out there?
Strangers, and cars, and boys and mean kids, and poison, and drunk drivers and pedophiles and aluminum foil in microwaves, and drugs and parents who let their kids drink and falling with scissors, the list goes on and on.
I know how it sounds, but isn't it my job to protect her? After all, I'm the mighty grown up and she is just a little girl who has no idea that in the right situation even candy can kill.
I am the parent that takes every freak story on the news and remembers it and designs my life to protect my child from just such a tragedy.
How many children are abducted? That's why she is never out of my sight.
How many children get decapitated by flying objects in a car during an accident? That's why there is never anything loose in the car.
How many children get hit crossing the street? That's why she couldn't cross the street by herself until she was twelve and why, even now if we are walking together and have to cross the street I reach for her hand.
How many children get high sniffing sharpies? That's why the sharpies are hidden in my room.
I could go on and on and on. Really, the things that I worry about are infinite. If I call her and she doesn't answer the phone I'm sure something horrible has happened. When she finally answers the phone she gets a lecture about "What's the point in having a phone if you never answer the damn thing? I though aliens abducted you." It could happen.
My only source of comfort in this helicopter life is knowing that I'm not alone. my nephew is 18 and still not allowed to eat Cap'n Crunch cereal, he choked on it once when he was three. His mom has never forgotten.
Just the other day I was thinking that life will be easier when Mo is 18 and I don't have to worry about her. I was talking to Joyce about teenagers, driving, boys, grades, all the drama that goes on.
Joyce, the mother of three grown daughters said, "I'm so glad that I don't have to do that anymore, so glad my girls are grown." Then she said, " I hope my granddaughter will not be a follower in junior high." And I realized, it never ends, absolutely never, and what's worse, those children you worry about will one day have children of their own for you to worry about.
Kill me now.