Bonesy's Blahg

Excuses

So today I am one hot, hobbled mess.

I woke up with the best of intentions. My plan (like it is every morning) was to get up & ride the recumbent bike before work.

My alarm went off at 6 am and, while I admit there was a moment when I considered rolling back into the warmth that is my husband, I totally jumped right out of bed & started my day with a smile!

Ugh, who am I kidding?

I totally shut that bitch off & rolled back into the warmth for another 1/2 hour.

That may have been when things went awry.

Or, some sadistic fucker on his man period made a “me” voodoo doll & grabbed a giant pin.

Either way, when I finally did drag my ass out of bed, that first step was a bitch.

I know, because I yelled “BITCH!” right before I fell forward & smacked my forehead on the wall.

I’ve been fighting plantar fasciitis on my right foot for a while. Just when I think I’ve finally conquered it… it jumped to the left with a vengeance, just to prove who’s boss. (Hint… it’s not me.)

And I sleep on the left side of the bed, so that first step? Yep, it was the left. And that wall? Much closer to the bed than I realized.

So I hobbled my way through the morning routine (minus the bike), threw a little extra concealer on my forehead, grabbed an ice pack, then dug a dusty, mid-80s era, hand-me-down TENS unit out of the linen closet.

Why, you ask?

I told you, I had the best of intentions! I wanted to freeze and shock my foot back into submission so that I could go to churchersize tonight!

That’s right, churchersize. CHURCHERSIZE. The place where I go to get my sweat on once a week with my girl posse & a whole bunch of other, also sweaty people who are my sized, but have completely opposite religious beliefs, & then I dare god to smite me. So far, I have not yet been smited… though I have been cursed with the lesbian shuffle the next day.

(My legs won’t bend right & my arms are held at a weird angle to my body when I walk.)

And now? Now my day is mostly over & it looks like I will be smite-free once again!

No churchersize for me. Apparently, there just wasn’t enough freeze in my ice pack. There was enough buzz in my dusty old TENS unit, surprisingly enough. I mean, I don’t know what a “normal” setting is, but my eyebrows are smoking & I think I now have Tourette’s.

Just ask the guy at the Christian-owned restaurant down the street from my work. I made the office lunch run & he oh-so-kindly offered to help me carry it all to my car after seeing my pathetic limp. Cool Dumb as I am, I refused…then managed to hit my toe with the door, which threw me off balance, which caused me to knock my forehead on the edge of it as I stumbled out & yelled “FUCK! BITCH! GODDAMMIT!!” & stomped my good foot, completely forgetting that there was a short step down, dropping the massive amounts of food in my arms.

Sh!  Don’t tell the work peeps.  5 second rule!!

*sigh*

So, instead of eating my healthy lunch, then sweating it off this evening… I ate pebbly soul food, I’m sitting on the couch with my foot up watching an Alanis Morissette concert with my dog, & YOU get a blog post.  But hey, I MEANT well!

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October 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Health, Rant, Sleep, Work | , | Leave a comment

My Big Fat Gypsy Dreaming

Is there a gypsy dress code?

Specifically, if I become a gypsy, would I have to start wearing lots of jangly jewelry & creamy bright blue eye shadow?

Can you make trade-offs?  I mean, I might be okay with the fake gold & Mimi make-up…as long as I don’t have to learn to play the finger castanets, wear colorful skirts, or come up with elaborate ways to con people out of their money.

I’m really not all that imaginative, plus I get super paranoid when I’m running a con & act all coked-up.  (Minus the coke, of course.)

Here’s the thing…

I’m a little frustrated.  I’m a hair over 40, stuck in a high-stress, dead end job, up to my eyeballs in debt, and my youngest kid just left for college.

Is this my mid-life crisis?

Maybe.  Realistically, not many people live beyond 80, so I am technically at mid-life.

It all started last spring.  I was on the way home from an outing with friends when I got a flat tire.  I pulled into the nearest gas station & called Kid4 to come pick me up.  I got out of the car & stood under a dim, flickering street light, pondering the life choices that led me to this place. (Mostly why I needed to be the drunkest person in the room, yet didn’t go rub the head of the midget playing bongos.)

While I was working on my issues, I saw it:

A big ol’ ugly Winnebago for sale in the lot across the street.

Big. Ugly. Winnebago.

But it got me to thinking…

In that semi-drunk, wild-eyed moment, that run-down, rickety Winnebago  looked like freedom.

Giant, boxy, bald-tired, shag carpeted, olive green trimmed freedom.

And since then, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of chucking all of my crap and becoming a vagabond.

I want to surround myself with beauty, not things.

I want to seek out new adventures & kitschy roadside attractions, stumbling across them as I roll.

I want to meet new people, characters, and personalities.

I want to wake up one morning & be all “Eh… I’d like to see Montana.”

I want to be put out to pasture, but have the entire continent be my pasture.

(Yes, I am aware that pastures are filled with animals, crap, & allergens.)

Obviously, this is not something that can happen overnight.  There are logistics to figure out, like how to get my husband to go along with my craziness & how we would support ourselves.  (He didn’t like my suggestion of him standing in a Walmart parking lot with a sign all day while I write. Killjoy.)

So I didn’t buy the Winnebago. But I am still trying to find something that will fit into our budget and our driveway.

And, I’ve committed myself to doing one thing per day to achieve this dream.  It could be something as small as perusing Craigslist, or packing a box to donate, or shopping for my new gypsy jewels.  The point is to do SOMETHING to bring my dreams closer to reality.  One small thing is all it takes.

One thing…and a Winnebago.

September 29, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Travel, Work | Leave a comment

Rage In My Machine

Have I mentioned the fact that I’m a road rager?  ‘Cause I totally am.  And, I’m finally coming to realize that maybe it’s not such a good thing.  You see, I make bad choices.  That’s it.  That’s my confession.  I make bad choices, leading to very bad things, and very bad language, all directed at VERY BAD DRIVERS!!!

… Who may or may not be little old ladies.

… Or drivers ed kids.

Yeah, I’ve reamed both this week.

And, while both totally deserved it, I still felt a little twinge of guilt as I sped past them with my middle finger extended and a winning, expletive-laced tirade that would make Charlie Sheen AND his goddesses blush.

But just a little twinge.

It could have been the terror I saw in that little old lady’s face.

Or the fact that the teenage girl looked like she was just about ready to cry.

OR… the fact that my OWN 16 year old girl had a moving mishap of her own this past weekend.

While I was in the car.

Like most new drivers, she doesn’t like to park.    She can’t quite gauge the turning radius or width of my car just yet.  Despite this, I gently encouraged her to snag a just-opened spot close to the grocery store.

I mean, seriously, how often does THAT happen?  You have to take advantage of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, dammit!

Anyway, as she was turning into the spot, she mis-judged and went to back up a bit to try again.  As she did THAT…another car turned into the lane behind us AND the bastard in the gigantic truck next to that spot decided to back out.  It was a parking lot clusterfuck & she was right in the center of it all.

I screamed.

Not AT her, of course…It was more in an “OH MY GOD, WE’RE TOTALLY GONNA DIE!” way.

But without words.

So, it was really more of a high pitched “AAAAH!”

Whatever.

My point to this is… Double standard much?

(For the record, nothing happened.  No collisions, no bumping.  She’d probably want me to point that out.)

Also, I recently had a near throw-down over a traffic incident.  I laid into a guy so hard, he threw his car into park, opened his door & charged me.  I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m sitting here today, typing, is the fact that his oh-so-sensible wife convinced his hard-charging ass to get back in the car… Clearly, beating the crap out of an overweight,  middle-aged woman in the busiest shopping area in town was not in his best interests.  Y’know, thanks to the witnesses and parking lot cameras.

But me?  I had totally thrown open my own car door & was ready to go at it.  Um, WTF?!   Apparently, that’s just how pissed I get when people cut me off.  I’m willing to throw down with a guy twice my size & half my age in a parking lot, regardless of the presence of witnesses and lot cams.

It may be time for a little yoga or anger management.

June 7, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Kids, Rant | 4 Comments

How to WIN Friday the 13th in 769 words.

Sh! Everybody simmer down for a minute. I have something important to say!

Okay, not really.

But I am trying to quiet all the voices around me so that I can concentrate on the voices in my head.  Apparently, 3 days of missed meds & the resulting lack of sleep makes me a little schizophrenic.

It also makes me look a little like THIS:

I’m not saying this IS me, but I was a little sad earlier this week & wearing a purplish/blue shirt today. And I need to color my hair.

I think my trigger was the dirty apple I had for breakfast.  Okay, not a dirty apple.  I washed it.  But he did have a wicked case of blue balls & an apparent need to drop some seed.

Seriously, full frontal apples are the key to my genius!  Or just a happy coincidence for a dirty, sleep deprived mind.

But then I had to go to work…which is where the frivolity should have ended, if I had a lick of sense.

Which I do not.

And that’s how I was caught on the security cameras standing in the middle of the street shouting “HAPPY FREAKING FRIDAY!”

You can probably add that to the list of reasons they’ll eventually fire my ass.

But you know what?  IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD I DID IT A SECOND TIME!  Doubt me?  Try it.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you they’ll eventually fire your ass for it.  Nothing like a little video proof of dumbassery.

From there, they paid me to eat breakfast.  Then make tea.  Then spill tea.  Then make more tea.  Then add extra tea bags to the new tea because I needed the caffeine & it was only 8:30.

Considering what they paid me to do all those things that I would should have done for free, I made some serious coin on a per-hour basis.  Probably.  I’m bad at math.

But it was all okay, because I found my old-ass ipod, which had a ton of music that I totally forgot I had!  So while I was fumbling away my morning in a gigantic puddle of eyecrossingly strong tea & paranoia, at least I got to jam to some great indie tunes & stuff that I’ll never admit to having on an ipod that may never see the light of day again.  And my new obsession song, which I added this morning before I ever saw the apple sac, but played over & over again like a fingerbanged teenager with a huge crush & a bad case of acne.

(“Taste” by Josh Abbott Band, in case you were wondering.)

I then let Kid4 know that Kid1 ruined my hoo-ha.  She thought that was TMI, but really, caring is sharing.  Plus, he did have a gigantic head.  There may be reconstruction surgery in my future.

Somehow, that became a text about back alley liposuction & vajazzling with an uber-conservative friend who doesn’t mind my over-sharing.

Then, 2 out of 4 children were demoted.  Temporarily, anyway.

I don’t think it had anything to do with giant heads or vajazzling or back alley lipo, but I’m not making any promises.

But I did encourage let them get into a bidding war for the title of MOM’S MOST FAVORITE CHILD after that, so I think I made good.  For the record, Kid2 won the sprint with her offer to let me come to campus & hang out in the Buckeyes football locker room!  Kid3 is looking more toward the marathon by planning out my pneumatic retirement trailer park.  He’s good, that one.  Kid1 just wants to be Kid2’s favorite sibling.  I’m not clear why he wants to hang out in the OSU locker room, though.  Curious.  Kid4 is working, so I’m still waiting on her offer.

But Kid2 & I did manage to solve every fucking world problem in existence via text message this afternoon!  I’d share with you, but we’re planning to sell our ideas to the highest bidder to help pay for my future trailer park.  Let’s just say I’m really fucking glad that placenta eating is a thing now.  And that Mt Dew plus Mentos equals ass-plosion.  But woe is the man who has to spend eternity huffing Larry the Cable Guy’s farts.

I’m not sure how we got to that either.

But then?  Then we designed Kid1’s new tramp stamp, which is sure to impress his future-mother-in-law …. or at least be easier to explain to her than his abnormal, but clearly AWESOME upbringing.

On crumpled notebook paper, for extra classiness.

May 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Sleep, Work | 1 Comment

The One Where I Face My Fear

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I live work in a gigantic, creepy old building.  The company’s roots go back to the 1800s & basically the existing structure was put up around the original storefront.    It’s a strange place; a mix of old and older architecture and building materials.

Floors that look to be made of brick … aren’t.  They’re actually 6′ tall wooden posts, standing on end.  They’ve been ground down, and worn smooth-ish by a century of work boots.  And now they’re coated with that century of industrial grime, so you can’t tell what color they’re supposed to be anymore.

Carts pulled by tow motor today were the same ones pulled by mules nearly 100 years ago. They just swapped out the piece that used to attach to a harness for a yoke that hooks up to the tow motor.

For a history geek like me, it’s a wondrous place!  Well, other than the “work” part, anyway.  It’s kind of like urban exploring, minus all the rats and homeless dudes.

I never found this wall creepy...till now.

Also, it would make a FABULOUS setting for a slasher movie, complete with hooks dangling from conveyor lines, leading into gigantic ovens, and lots of hidden, dark nooks & crannies.

Hint, Hint, Hollywood!

But that’s not my point to this story.

It’s a manufacturing plant.  So, mixed in with all that super-cool, early century, industrial architecture is a bunch of grimy antique machinery.  Which PROBABLY means a bloody, violent history of industrial accidents and crushing injuries.  Because, you know what they DIDN’T have in turn-of-the-century manufacturing plants?  Safety!

Also, there were two murders in fairly recent history, but both before I started there…. Just in case y’all had your suspicions about me!

Despite all of this, I’ve never felt uncomfortable working there.  I mean, OF COURSE we have our share of office creepers, tit-starers, & cube trolls… but every company has those!

I mean UNCOMFORTABLE.

That all changed for me last week.

When I’m not writing or talking to my husband, I spend my lunch hours walking in a section of the old plant.  It hasn’t been in use since the 60s, so it now just holds our archived material and old, unused office furniture.  But it’s fairly big & mostly private, so makes a good place to hide out and get my fat ass in gear.

Last week, I headed up there to walk & take some pics I had in mind for a future post.  I had been up there nearly 45 minutes, and had taken tons of pictures.  Okay, maybe 30 – 35.  Whatever.

ANYWAY…  As I turned the corner in the back of the warehouse, “something” grabbed me.

This is right about the place it happened.

I don’t know how you feel about ghosts or spirits.  Most people are skeptics & I totally get that.  I was a skeptic once, too.

All I can tell you is that “something” grabbed my shoulder.  It wasn’t painful or forceful at all.  It was more like you would grab a friend’s shoulder if you walked up behind them.

Only cold.

VERY cold.

It was the kind of cold you get when you’re mixing up ground meat & the bones in your fingers start to ache…  But without the risk of  e coli poisoning & fat under your fingernails.

I’m not sure how, or why… But I didn’t scream.  I just felt all of the air rush out of my lungs in a silent gush as I flipped my head around to see who or what was there.

I was alone.

And, suddenly, I didn’t feel NEARLY as comfortable being alone up there with the dangling hooks and dark corners.

My fat ass got in gear, alright.  I got the hell out of there!  I was shaky and nervous, & had a hard time catching my breath.  That could be because my heart had plummeted into my lungs, crushing all of the air out.  OR it could just be because I’m fat & asthmatic and had just ran the length of the warehouse.

Either/or.

Remember those pictures I mentioned?  Of the 30 – 35 that I took, only 2 were on my phone when I checked them.  I can’t say what happened to the rest, but I had “saved” all of them to my memory card.

When I settled down, I asked a couple of “old-timers” if they had ever heard of any strange occurrences up there.  They hadn’t.  And, I’m not sure they took me seriously.

I did hear other stories, though, all from the main part of the plant… The part STILL in use…

Flickering lights seen on security guard monitors.

Cold spots in the middle of summer, when temperatures reach into the 90s in certain areas.

“Things” seen out of the corner of your eye that just can’t be explained.

Doors that open and close, seemingly at will.

Noises.

Voices.

All common occurrences, at least in places that are supposedly haunted.

But this?

This was different.  No one had ever mentioned being touched.

Yesterday, I ventured back up into that warehouse.

I’m happy to announce that nothing touched me.  So, y’know…

Bonesy 1 – Unseen, Cold, Creepy Thing 1.

Not much interested in a tie-breaker, I have to say.

FYI – The pictures in this post were taken yesterday, just to give you a visual of the areas I’m talking about.  Sorry if they’re a bit blurry.  I wasn’t about to stick around any longer than I needed to.

April 24, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Work | 3 Comments

100 Things

Okay, so I know I’m just a few years behind with this.  What can I say?  Someone recently told me every blogger needs a “100 Things” post.  I think its bullshit, but am caving in to peer pressure.  Here are 100 random things about me, which will probably take me roughly a week & a half to write.

1) I can’t smell.  Every great once in a while, I think I might smell something, but I have no sense of whether it’s a good or bad scent.  No, I can’t explain it any better than that.

2) Anytime I tell someone I can’t smell, the first question is always “Well, can you taste things like everyone else?”  How the hell should I know?!

3) As a kid, I was a total tomboy who hated anything girly.  When I was about 5, we moved into a neighborhood with mostly boys.  I told everyone my name was “Ricky” so I could hang out with them instead of the girls in the ‘hood.  It worked like a charm, until someone came to our door one day & asked if “Ricky” lived there.

4) When I was 10, I wanted to grow up to play shortstop for the New York Mets.   I didn’t live anywhere near New York; I just knew they needed a shortstop.

5) I met my husband while signing up for the military, just after high school.  My military “career” lasted 5 weeks.  On the way home, I got engaged in Cleveland Hopkins Airport, surrounded by a crowd of paparazzi.  Okay, they were really just nosy bastards.  Whatever.

6) I got married with one days’ notice, on a Tuesday morning…and went to work that afternoon.

7) The mayor who married us was on bereavement leave at the time, as her husband had just died.  Her secretary called to tell her our story & she came in to do the ceremony for us.  She cried.

8 ) We don’t have any wedding pictures because we lost the roll of film.

9) I never wanted kids.  Yes, my kids know this.

10) I found out I was pregnant 2 days after my wedding.  I cried, he was ecstatic; we agreed not to tell anyone until I came to terms with it.  2 hours later, he stood up and announced it over Thanksgiving dinner in front of my extended family.  I had not yet come to terms with it.  He’s lucky the courthouse was closed for the next few days.

11) That baby was born 3 weeks after my 19th birthday.

12) 3 of my 4 kids were accidents.  Yes, I do know how babies are made.

13) When Kid 2 was a baby, all she wanted to do was sleep.  She never cried, never wanted anything.  Her pediatrician said not to wake her up to feed her. Basically, babies will let you know when it’s time to eat.  So, I didn’t.  She fell off the growth charts.

14) The only reason I cook is because, if I didn’t, someone would have eventually turned me into Children’s Services.  I’m pretty sure schools frown on children with distended bellies & flies crusting around their eyes.

15) I am a terrible housekeeper.

16) I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

17) I’m kind of a hermit.

18) All of my closest friends live far away, which works pretty well with hermit-ism.

19) My favorite band is The Pretenders.

20) My blog pic/avatar was taken at Chrissie Hynde’s restaurant.

21) Unless I am reading or watching tv, I have music playing.  It’s an eclectic mix of a soundtrack, based on what I’m feeling at that moment.

22) I was kicked out of band in the 5th grade because I couldn’t learn to read music.

23) I love sunglasses & can’t pass a rack without trying some on.  At one point, I had 15 pair.  Currently, I have 3.  I’m not sure if it’s because I’m pickier or if I’m finally growing up.

24) I am prejudiced against smokers, despite the fact that some of the people I love the most are smokers.  No, I don’t hold this against them… except for my husband.  I only hold it against him & all other smokers.  ***But not YOU, if you’re a smoker.  Just everybody else OTHER than you!

25) I can think of only 2 occasions where I changed my mind after forming a first impression of someone.  I really do make up my mind about people as soon as I meet them.

26) Both of those exceptions are now friends of mine.

27) Despite the fact that I am atheist, all of my friends are Christian.  This is one of the things I love most about them all.

28) I have a near OCD level of spelling & grammar Nazism.

29) Because of this, I was always in the spelling bee.

30) Despite THAT, I don’t think the spelling bee belongs anywhere near ESPN… Or ANY tv channel.

31) I tend to make up my own grammar rules, which only one other person understands.  I do see that #28 & #312 technically shouldn’t work together.

32) My daughters inherited that fucked-up gene.  Which technically ISN’T a gene, but whatever.

33) I once got a job based solely on my ability to spell.

34) I’m a poll worker on Election Day.  At one point, I was the youngest presiding judge in the county.

35) One of the ladies who works my precinct with me was my 7th grade math teacher.

36) I am really bad at math.

37) She does the math at the end of the night for our precinct.  It’s like she KNOWS ME!

38) I love the iconic Rosie the Riveter ad.

39) The only coffee I like is the cheap cappuccino at gas stations.  No, I don’t like Starbucks.  No, this does not make me a bad person.  It makes me a non-coffee drinker who doesn’t like overpaying!

40) I love unsweetened tea, of almost any flavor.

41) My middle name is Janice, pronounced (Janeese).

42) It’s also my mom’s middle name, and the one I gave Kid4.

43) Despite that, I totally did not name my daughter after my mother.

44) Or myself.  It just worked with her first name.

45) Kid2 was definitely named after my aunt, though.

46) I’m really bad at card games, especially poker.

47) This is mostly because of my innate inability to strategize.

48) I find politically incorrect humor HIGH-LARIOUS!

49) I think the 80s had the best music of any generation.

50) I’m aware the only people who would agree with me on that are also children of the 80s.

51) I eat soup for lunch almost every day.  Not the same kind of soup, though.  I’m not OCD about it. (said in a snarky voice)

52) My dog is cooler than your dog.

53) Braggarts irritate me more than just about everyone else.  No, #52 doesn’t count as bragging.  That’s just fact.

54) One-uppers are a close second.  Please see #53, sentences 2 & 3.

55) I hate everything about WalMart, but mostly the people.

56) I’m a road rager.

57) Sometimes this gets me in trouble.  I’ll probably end up with a violent death, started by an expletive-laden rant & middle finger extended out my window.

58) I have nearly died a horrific death by train twice.  Both times with the same person, though only once was alcohol involved.  Between #57 & #58, I am more sure than ever that my death will not be pretty.

59) When I was a kid, my parents would send all of us to live at an aunt’s house for the summer.

60) That aunt & uncle are my role models for marriage & parenthood.

61) It’s not a surprise we were sent away.  According to our genealogy, my family has been “farming children out” since 1856.

62) General George Armstrong Custer is my great-great-great-great-great uncle.

63) At one point, Kid1 had a history class with a descendant of Sitting Bull.

64) I could not possibly care less about what politicians do behind closed doors.

65) I also don’t give a damn about celebrities & don’t consider them to be newsworthy.

66) I am afraid of heights.

67) I have an aversion to water.

68) Because of those 2 things, I hate bridges.

69) I watch way too much tv.

70) I don’t believe in women’s rights or black rights or gay rights.  I believe in equal rights & that nothing else is acceptable.

71) I’m a fiercely loyal friend.

72) I don’t eat meat with bones in it.  Yes, I am aware that all meat had bones in it at one point.

73) My favorite childhood memory is “Eat a Pita.”  Someday, I might tell y’all what that means.

74) Patience is a virtue, but it’s not one of mine.

75) I say that because I am 3 days into this list & it’s frustrating me.

76) Right about now, I’m wishing I hadn’t caved in to peer pressure.

77) My kids think I’m a techno-tard, but I’m basically my department’s IT person.

78) I’m sure Kid1 finds that hysterical, seeing as how he IS an IT person & I am clearly not.

79) Right now, I have no pictures of my family on my desk.

80) I do have a pic of myself with my besties on my desk, though.

81) When my hair is long, I want it short.  When my hair is short, I want it long. My husband NEVER wants it short.

82) I look much better with long hair.

83) I am pretty sure that I am pregnant on at least one roll of film in my refrigerator.

84) My “baby” is 16.

85) My first concert was Duran Duran with Billy Ocean and Brenda Russell.

86) When Kid2 graduated, I was at commencement sporting a gigantic purple egg on my forehead.

87) The egg came from hitting my head on the sidewalk during our Throwdown at the Hoedown the day before.

88) My forehead still has a corner on it from that throwdown 2 years ago.

89) I still owe you a post on that.

90) Day 4.  I’m growing steadily weaker; concerned I may not see the end of this post.

91) I don’t trust whistlers, even the ones that just whistle songs.

92) My favorite car is a Porsche 914.

93) I’ve owned 3 of them, but only drove 1.

94) I think there is something wrong with the people who listen to ONLY Christmas music during the holidays.

95) Especially if they have it loud.  Some music has to be thumping to be appreciated.  “O Christmas Tree” is not one of those songs.  If it’s rattling MY windows, you & I are going to have a problem.  Mostly you.  See #56.

96) I really dislike Christmas music.  This has nothing to do with my religious beliefs.

97) I once read an entire newspaper article backward before realizing I did it.  I tend to read the headlines, then check the end of the article for the details.

98) A friend once told me that I’m just drawn to silliness.  I love that!

99) Day 6.  Please send reinforcements.

100) I am now convinced that the person who told me “Every blogger needs a 100 Things post” is a sadistic bitch.  Yeah.  You know who you are.

March 8, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Friends, Kids, Sleep | 8 Comments

Not-So-Super-Sunday

Today, guys everywhere are doing super cool stuff – hanging out, bullshitting with their buddies, & drinking their way up to & through the big game. Lucky bastards.

I should also be doing those things!

Not because I’m a guy (I have the stretch marks, prolapsed uterus, & the 4-baby-sag to prove it)… but because I maybe SHOULD have been a born a guy.

At any given moment, I would much rather be doing “guy” stuff than “girl” stuff. Well, except for that pesky all of the work during sex thing . I’m not an idiot! I know how good we girls have it there.

My point is, instead of celebrating the last day of football season like a good tomboy should… I have spent my day chained to the laptop. I’ve used words like “cute” and “vintage,” along with silly phrases like “my colors” and “cake tasting.”

WHAT THE FUCK HAS HAPPENED TO ME?!!?

I said “yes.”

Yes, I’m already married. But the first time we got hitched, it was kind of on a whim. Well, maybe not a whim. But it had certainly all happened fast enough to leave me in a semi-retarded fog.

We met at the end of August while signing up for the military. By the end of November, I had left for (and returned from) boot camp, fallen in love, gotten engaged…and now had to plan a wedding. But the thing is, I didn’t know anything about that crap!. I had just turned 18 & had really never given much thought to marriage!

And I was certainly not one of those little girls who grew up dreaming of a princess wedding.

So while we considered a big ol’ extended family hoopla, we ultimately decided we wanted to do it before he left for boot camp. So, we worked the phone lines until we found someone willing to do the deed without forcing us to sit through classes that we didn’t have the time or inclination to take.

That person was the mayor of a neighboring town who happened to be on bereavement leave. Despite the fact that her husband had just died, she agreed to come into work long enough to marry us that morning 25 years ago.

There were 3 witnesses.

We went to work later that day.

It’s a crazy story, but it’s all true. I LOVE that we did everything so completely off base from what everyone else we know did in their wedding. We did it cheaper… and OURS WORKED, BITCHES!

But this time, we want to do it “right,” whatever that means. We want to be sure we get the opportunity to celebrate our love with all of those we love the most. That’s the most important part of it all for us

It’s still going to be unconventional. It’s still going to be fun. But in the end, it’s still going to be US, with hopefully way more of YOU.  And then I’ll pay some bartenders to get you drunk before I make my grand appearance… in a dress. This way, your memories will be foggy when you think back to it the next day. This is called “WEDDING PLANNING” & it’s apparently a skill I am damn good at!

February 7, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Love, Marriage | , | Leave a comment

Who knew one little notebook could cause such a stir? In someone’s pants.

I managed to do the unthinkable.

Somehow, in my hurry to escape the precinct I work on election day, I left my notebook behind.   A water-stained, raggedy repository for chicken scratched random thoughts, blog post starts, F words, & sexual references, it’s like my brain… on paper.    Which means it could be pretty dangerous in the hands of the wrong people.

Like the senior citizens I left it with.

See, my precinct…is also the activity center/dance hall for a senior citizen’s apartment complex.

After the shock wore off, I had a quick moment where I thought it was kind of cool.  Basically, I had left my innermost thoughts in the hands of America’s greatest generation… who probably hadn’t seen any action since 1972.  If I couldn’t get it back, I hoped they had passed it around, letting it spread through their colony like a herpes virus.

Which, according to my friend Izabella, is kind of how it works.  Apparently, they’re considered the greatest generation for a reason.  They do get action, & plenty of it!  Senior centers are one of the top contributors to the spread of various STDs.

Ummm…

So I kind of just started a new epidemic?

We’re going to call it The Dor.  It’s kind of like the clap, minus the oozing genitals & painful urination.

Side Note: DO NOT Google “the clap symptoms” from your cubicle at work.  You never know who’s going to walk up behind you & conclusions cannot be un-jumped.

You’re welcome.

Obviously, I worked my ass off Tuesday.  It was a busy election, especially considering it had a couple of hot-button issues on it. (Most importantly, a motion to repeal Ohio Senate Bill 5, which limited collective bargaining rights for public employees.)

But that’s not my point.

Between voters, I had been working on a new post.  Laptops and cell phones are not allowed in the polling locations, so I was working on it old-school, scribbling things in my notebook every chance I got.

Because do you know what’s funnier than old people?  Old people who have no idea they’re funny!

One of my judges is a talker.  I mean, she NEVER STOPS!  While that normally makes me a little crazy, I was loving it!  She just kept saying things that cracked me up, but she had no idea why I was laughing.

– Do you have a Johnson?

– Which one do you have?  8″?

– And then you can get behind her.

– Just stick it in.

– They packed me real good one time.

– They checked this girl & she was writhing in the bed!

– She was crawling on the floor & couldn’t get in the bed.

– You get down on your knees?

– I had a guy tell me once I should never get on my knees.

– Who did you?

– He had to put both hands behind my knees & flip me over!

– A doctor told me once that it’s in my personality to get really attached really fast.

(THEN SHE PULLED OUT A KNIFE!  So, my laughter was more of a nervous wide-eyed “heh heh heh.”)

Anyway, by the time I realized the notebook was gone, the senior center was closed.  So, I called before work the next morning.  It wasn’t in the lost & found, but I knew it had to be there… or in the backseat of my Judge 2’s minivan… OR turned into the Board of Elections with the ballots.

While none of the three would be easy to face up to, I was really hoping I hadn’t turned it in.  Something tells me the county would frown upon my multi-tasking.

I decided to stop by the senior center on my way to work.  After checking the lost & found again, I convinced the office manager to let me look around in the ballroom.

Nothing.

….Until we checked a closet in the back.

Apparently, the guy who locked up that night decided to spend a little “alone time” with my notebook.

He must have been interrupted, though.  It was lying open to a particularly explicit page… on an organ.

You can fill in your own joke about an organ in the closet.

I’ll be busy disinfecting my notebook.

For the record, I didn't notice any suspicious new stains.

November 15, 2015 Posted by | Confession, People, Work | Leave a comment

Corruption…One Generation At A Time

Several months ago, I wrote a post about election day. It was mostly about how I lost my NC-17 notebook in the senior center that houses our precinct…and some creeper janitor found it & had a little “alone time” at my expense.

Technically, the book was a trade show give-away, so there was no expense. But also? I may have been directly responsible for corrupting our greatest generation!

Last week, I may have done worse.

I don’t know how elections are held in your neck of the woods. But in mine, the Board of Elections gathers up all the old people in town & makes them feel useful again. They’re given minimum wage jobs with exciting titles like “Judge” & they get to lord over the masses from uncomfortable chairs at folding tables.

It’s a win/win.

Until they can’t find enough coherent old people to fill the positions.

That’s when they bring in the reinforcements… Dumb ass middle-age people who feel a sense of civic responsibility & teenagers who want a day off school & are bad at math.

I’m a mix. I’m a dumb-ass middle aged woman with the mentality of a teenager AND bad at math. So they gave me the uber-cool title of PRESIDING JUDGE!

Obviously.

I’m like the Queen of Judges, but without the ring kissing and curtsies.

At least so far. I’m working on it.

Note to self: Buy a ring.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure after the notebook debacle, the BOE decided they didn’t want me to corrupt any more senior citizens.

So they moved us to a community center.  I’m not sure a place why they thought I’d be more kid-friendly than elderly-friendly, but that’s not my call.

Also, they also added “assholes” & “crazycakes” to the mix of poll workers….and then gifted them to me.  It’s kind of like a Gift of Protocol that they give to foreign dignitaries, but I don’t have to report it to anyone.  Probably.  

Do you know what happens when they mix the Queen of Judges with assholes & crazycakes…and THEN they throw a teenager into the mix?

Texts & comments that could probably get me arrested.

OR make me a superhero in certain southern states! One of those things.

But…I got paid to do it. So… WORTHSIES!

Unless the authorities come knocking.

In that case, I may need you to start a Bonesy’s Bail Fund.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, have a bake sale or something. Thanks.

It all started when Crazycakes Judge 3 put her book on the table next to Judge 4’s book (the decidedly NON crazycakes teenager, who also happens to be good at math & really funny):

Crazycakes was reading an Amish teenage love story. Judge 4? Not so much.

Unless they do it politically in Amish country. Who’s to say? I try not to take pictures when I’m  peeping in their windows driving through, seeing as how I’ll steal their soul.

I have enough souls for now, thanks.

Also, I don’t care which way you do it… or who you do it with.

But if you read Amish teenage love stories? I’m pretty sure you haven’t done it with a real person in a VERY, VERY long time. Try putting down the book & getting out more.

Just a suggestion. I mean, knowing you’re not getting any makes comments like these especially creepy:

– He’s the one that delivered both my kids. He was drunk all the time.

– There were like 6 of us in a hotel room in Columbus.

– I could feel some going down my right thigh.

– She likes to lick lick lick.

– Well they are daisy chained together.

– I got soo hot!

– If I eat a Mexican….

– Well I usually like women better.

– I like to be on top.

– My crack was THIS wide!

– My mommy has hair on her privates.

– What did I stick in my bra that one time?…..

– What happens to the mother’s nipples?

– If you’re under her belly, you’ll feel her nipples.

So, despite the fact that she had NO idea why… she cracked us up!

Which just left her completely baffled.

I think I’ll keep her.

Judge 2, on the other hand…

The day started off pretty well. He was like an eager little beaver, all about helping set up the machines & feeling important.

I thought I got lucky!

And then I administered the oath, which is apparently also a magic spell that causes assholic behavior.

He played it off as joking… but he managed to offend even me.

EVEN ME!

He had a rude-ass comment or stereotypical accent for just about every single demographic.

Democrats.

Everyone who is not a Republican.

Blacks.

Black albinos.

Immigrants.

Illegal immigrants.

Indians.

Indians who own party stores.

Germans.

People who eat sauerkraut, but not the super-sour kind.

Mexicans.

Anyone who goes to a Mexican restaurant, but can’t pronounce the dishes correctly.

Anyone who speaks Spanish.

Anyone who speaks Spanish in the dirty Mexican dialect.

Vietnamese.

Chinese.

Yella-eyed men.

Anyone who can’t pronounce their R’s.

Atheists.

Agnostics.

Anyone else who doesn’t follow his religion, which he was suspiciously ambiguous about.

Gays. (Though I admit I goaded him into it, just because it was so damn easy & I knew I could get him on a roll.)

Bisexuals.

Cross Dressers.

Men who aren’t cross-dressers, but can appreciate a good pair of shoes.

Women who don’t dress like men, but wear sensible shoes.

Dog owners.

Anyone who doesn’t have a cat.

I’m pretty sure the only people who didn’t get insulted were midgets & pretty people.

It was like an idiot party & I got to be the party planner!

What’s more fun than that?!

Lots of things, in all honesty.

But once the “cat” subject was broached, the crazy train rolled right the fuck over me.

Crazycakes baits her cat into showering with her. 

Which means we’ll never be able to look at a shower again without picturing a sad, tortured pussy crying out for help.

Have fun at college next year, Judge 4!  It won’t be the same without you.

March 13, 2012 Posted by | Confession, Friends, Kids, People, Work | | 2 Comments

Vulva Days

My sister is getting married this summer.  It’s a huge deal, y’know… being wedding # 4 & all.  (I keed, I keed!) Actually, it kind of is a big deal, seeing as how this will hopefully be her last wedding. (It’s okay, she lives in another state, so can’t smack me when she reads this.  Also, there’s the fact that, despite being the LITTLE SISTER, I can totally kick her ass.)

In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I have kind of a mental block for dates.  I’m not sure why, but I just have issues remembering stuff like that.  It might have something to do with numbers.  Anyway, I got to thinking about the wedding today & realized I needed to get some vacation days scheduled for the wedding.  Only I couldn’t remember WHAT days I needed.    This is what transpired, via text:

Me: What is wedding date again? Need to schedule vulva days.

Kim: Vulva days? It is July 16

Me:  hahahaha OMG! VACA days!

Kim: That is what I thought! Broom closet is OFF limits this time!**

Me: Goddammit, you never let me have any fun!

Kim: hahaha Too funny! Hey, have the camper arranged for girls’ weekend, too.

Me: SCORE!!! No need to arrange for a broom closet for me that w/e, though.  Also, I’m totally referring to your wedding as “Vulva Days” from now on.

Her: That is just toooooo funny! Have to just love typos! Ummm it was a typo, right? haha

Me: I’m not sure…Maybe!  Weird though, b/c right before that, I emailed (name deleted) to ask for an update on her tit! Vulvas & tits, that’s how I roll.

Yeah.  It’s true.  I really did email my friend to ask about her tit… just before texting my sister to ask when Vulva Days were.  Is it any wonder people are nosy curious as to what goes on in my cubicle?  It’s called multi-tasking, people!  But, if you’re my customer, & it sounds like I was giggling when I answered the phone this afternoon… Now you know why.

**Yes, I do have a broom closet/wedding story.  Don’t we all?



March 3, 2011 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Textersations | 4 Comments

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