Bonesy's Blahg

Bonesy Claus

If you’re on my Christmas list this year, let’s be honest… You are one lucky bitch!  First of all, because the list of people I gift is notoriously small.  But also?  You’re kinda gonna love what I got you.

See, as a woman of few skills, I can easily spot when I do have one.

I haven’t figured out a way to make a living doing it yet, but I’m a gifted gift giver.  AND, I can totally figure out a way to not break the bank while finding you that perfect gift!

Although, if you ask anyone at my bank, my account is pretty broke already.

As a mom of 4 kids, with a broken bank account … It’s a skill borne of necessity.  Playing Santa for a litter is pretty tough, especially for someone who loathes shopping as much as I do.   I mean, while I can appreciate a good mullet, neck tattoo,  or 6 inches of ass crack proudly displayed by a hairy 350 lb woman… Fighting mouth-breathers for a bunch of shitty Made-In-China presents in a WalMart?  Not my thing.

So I have taken internet shopping & made it my bitch.

This year, all of my gifts were either bought online, at locally owned & operated businesses, or online at locally owned & operated businesses in OTHER areas.   While I’d like to flip the ratio of online-to-local purchases, I’m content with where it’s at for now.  There really aren’t all that many locally owned shops in my area &, quite frankly, I like to sit around in my underwear.

(Kidding, kids… Please don’t run to disinfect the desk chair.)

Also?  When I give you a gift, it’s a pretty safe bet that you will have NO idea what the fuck is inside.  I will box your shit up in some random packaging that has nothing to do with it.

Generic saltine box?

Been there.

Instant oatmeal?

Done that.

Think I got you an iPhone?  Um, open that fucker up.  It’s NOT what you think!

I really liked when my kids FINALLY stopped believing in Santa.  I may have had something to do with Kid4 not believing after around age 6.  I’m not saying I outright told her he’s not real, but I certainly didn’t try to convince her of it when she started to suspect.

By “started to suspect,” I mean “let the older kids tell her.”

Hey, don’t judge.  She’s nearly an adult now & she turned out just fine.  Mostly.

Plus, after they no longer believed, we started a new tradition.  Gift tags no longer say they’re from “Santa” or “Mom & Dad.”

Now, they get gifts from The Grinch, Heat Miser, Yukon Jack, & Abominable Snowman.

Plus an occasional inappropriate or irreverent present from Baby Jesus.

It’s just how I roll.

 

Next year, maybe I’ll do a Bonesy’s Gifted Gift Guide.

December 9, 2016 Posted by | Family, Friends, Holidays, Kids, People | 2 Comments

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!

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

Howdy, Neighbor!

I’m sure I’ve mentioned once or twice that I hail  from nomads. My family moved about once a year while I was growing up.   Besides the fact that I was always the socially awkward new kid, it was kind of a cool upbringing.  See,  a childhood of rentals = a constant parade of human oddities.  Almost like a never-ending county fair freak show or Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!

We just had a LOT of downright strange neighbors!

There was Marsha, the female Elephant Man.  Okay, truth be told, she was actually just a really big woman covered in moles.  But she had a super-cool live-in boyfriend who liked to invite me into the basement when she wasn’t home!

Wait, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

But he did let me play with his…

Vial of mercury.

What were you thinking? 

Come to think of it, mercury poisoning kind of explains a lot about that guy.

My favorite move brought us right next door to Grace & Bob.  They seemed like a harmless old couple…at first.  Turns out, they were a horrifying train wreck of a couple that you couldn’t help but to watch all wide-eyed, but from a safe distance.

Or, as safe a distance as you could find from next door while still watching.

Bob was kind of slow & mostly suicidal, and would occasionally lock himself in the shed & catch it on fire.

But Grace?  Hoo boy!  She was full on crazycakes.   Like use-the-cuff-of-your-jeans-for-an-ashtray CRAZYCAKES!

So, we totally used that to our advantage.

Once, when my sister & I found a dead mouse, we had Grace come over to “take care” of it for us.  (Don’t judge.  We don’t like critters!)  Grace came in, picked the little bastard up by the tail, sniffed it a few times… Then said “Mmm.. Lunch!” as she walked out the front door.

We didn’t have the balls heart to ask if she really did make lunch.

But, my friend Kelly & I did make her breakfast once!  We put some eggs in her mailbox one Saturday night on the hottest week of that summer.  We sat at my bedroom window, waiting for her to check the mail on Monday, but I don’t remember actually seeing it.  I do know she blamed the girls who lived a couple of streets away, though.   She couldn’t get the stench out, so wanted them to buy her a new mailbox.

Can I get arrested for a federal offense 25 years after the fact?  What is the statute of limitations on tampering with someone’s mailbox, anyway?

Then, when I was about 15, we moved into a ramshackle rental in a bad section of town.  Not long after we pulled up in the U-Haul, a few of our new neighbors came over and offered to help.  They were two good-looking couples, clean-cut & uber-friendly.

Also, they were cult members.

Even after my mom found out they were cult members, she still sent me to run errands with them.   You know, totally normal errands, like going door-to-door handing out tracts.  Scouring the real estate section for recent closings so we could “help” new neighbors in OTHER neighborhoods.  Inviting people to “meetings” where they could experience something called “new birth.”

I was good with it for a while.  I mean, what do I care if people get brainwashed?  They were nice to me, paid me in Pepsi, & bought me a few new outfits for our cross-town missions.

I drew the line when they invited me to go out of town with them for “training.”   I mean, brainwashing is fine for OTHER people, but for me?  I think I’ll pass.

I thought I had left all of that behind when I got married.

Then all hell broke loose.

No, really.  I’m pretty sure that hell actually broke open & unleashed the devil’s spawn to my neighborhood, in the form of a little boy named Johnny.

To be fair, Johnny clearly wasn’t “right.”  I don’t judge for that.  What I DO judge him for are the actions that took place over the several years we lived there.  Peeping.  Theft.  Flat tires. Dented cars.  Exposure. Urinating on my house.  Threats of physical violence.  Did I mention he was armed?  Grandpa thought he was old enough for a pocket knife when he turned 12.  Yeah, all of that happened BEFORE HE TURNED 12!

What’s a NORMAL family to do when the psychotic neighbor boy now carries a blade?

Move.

And now?  Now we live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, right next to a man who drives the Scooby Mobile.  A 50-year-old man in a PT Cruiser, with “Scooby” decal-ed across the back window… and a giant stuffed Scooby Doo in the passenger seat.

Or we DID live next to him.  He was taken to jail a couple of weeks ago, after drunkenly crashing his car twice in one day, shooting up the tree in his front yard,  then holding the still-loaded gun to his wife’s head.

*Sigh*

Maybe it’s time to move on.

August 14, 2016 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People | 2 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

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

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

Dreaming…of more than jelly & peanuts.

Over the weekend, I sent out a kick-ass resume & cover letter to what could possibly be my dream job.

By “dream job,” I really just mean one with a fresh set of surroundings that lets me out of the office once in a while.  And pays a little more than what I currently make, while at least matching the bennies & vacation time.

What?  I told you it was a dream job.

Actually, I’ve sent out several resumes over the past couple of weeks.  But this time?  I actually want the job, not just to escape from my current one.

I won’t tell you what the wanted job is just yet, but that letter would have been received today.

In my head, I totally pictured them opening it up, awed by my expensive stationery & wordsmithing…and immediately calling me up, demanding I come in right away for an interview.

Of course, they’d then offer me the job.

I’d play coy & not jump at it, negotiating my way to a higher salary or better perks.

In the end, I’d accept & we’d all live happily ever after… with me finally in a position that offers a little more creativity and a little less “chained to my desk, looking at the same faces every goddamn day.”

In reality, though?  The job market sucks & people way more talented, qualified, educated, & desperate than I are also looking for work.

As I pore over the listings, I’ve found a disturbing trend.   Because there is nothing like a job search to open your eyes to what the economy is really like!

The jobs that I’m more than qualified for… are now requiring college degrees.   And pay hourly rates in the SINGLE DIGITS!

A couple weeks ago, I found a post looking for people to work in the complaint department at a jelly factory.  You could possibly work your way up to customer service, but had to have a Bachelor’s Degree to start.

(First of all, who the fuck complains about jelly?!)

A job I saw today required an Associates Degree, but started at $9/hr.  Oh, but they’ll give you $11/hr if you have that degree and at least 2 years’ experience in the field!

I don’t care where you live, $9/hr is NOT a living wage!  But there are so many really desperate people out there that that company will find someone to take it…despite the degree that they invested so much money and time into.  So they’re willing to work for peanuts just to keep food on the table & their names off the welfare rolls.

In a lot of ways, I’m glad I didn’t go to college.

– Not going introduced me to my husband, leading to 4 great kids (who are all going or have gone to college & will hopefully never have to listen to old ladies bitch about  jelly!).

– I don’t have student loans to repay (while trying to find work at jobs that start at $9 AN HOUR!)

But honestly, I really just have never figured out what I wanted to be when I grow up.   I assumed I would eventually stumble upon something that I loved.  That hasn’t happened, and I envy the people who can honestly say they love what they do.

So, I’ll keep looking to find the love.  But I’m still waiting for that phone call, dream job!

January 31, 2012 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People, Rant, Work | | 2 Comments

Show Me

So, here we are more than a month after my last post.  Again.  I’m hoping this isn’t a trend. It’s not like I had a tornado ravage my home, leaving me unable to post.  Nope, I have no excuses or reasons.  I just wasn’t writing.  And, apparently, that actually matters to some people!  WHO KNEW?!!?

Thanks, Mecca, for the nudge.  Looks like I needed it.

So, speaking of tornadoes, I’m starting to wonder if Fate took the term “Show-Me State” as a challenge.

Seriously… Missouri?!  Why pick on Missouri?  I’ve been through that state & I’m here to tell ya, there is not much there.

(So wrong…but as I wrote that, my first thought was “Even less now.”  *sigh*  I don’t mean to be mean, it’s just how my brain works!)

So, there’s not much in Missouri… other than the Nicest People On The Planet.  Yes, that’s an official title.  On two separate occasions, I have been at my most ridiculously low point…and both times I was found & bailed out by Missourians.  Okay, not officially “bailed out.”  That just sounds bad.

Let me explain.

Many years ago, when my husband got out of the military, we decided to head home to the Midwest.  (In retrospect, WTF were we thinking?! We lived in SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA at the time!)  We had a toddler, a newborn, & an Australian Shepherd puppy, so we bought an RV from an old surfer dude to make the trip.  A friend tagged along, driving the UHaul that held all of our belongings.

(BTW, somewhere in Southern California is an aging surfer still waiting for his last $100.  I hope he’s not sitting by the mailbox.)

About a day & a half into the trip, the baby got sick.  There I was trapped in a rickety old RV with an attention-starved toddler, a crying baby, a hyperactive puppy, and a husband trying to keep his shit together and his gypsy train on the road.

All I can say is, it’s a good thing they were all cute.  There may have been a moment or three when I looked at them all with a narrowed eye, considering which was least good looking…and would fit easiest through the drafty crank windows.

Well, apparently my raging stress levels were creating an energy storm felt in surrounding vehicles.  (Either that, or the screams coming from our surfer wagon made it more of a rolling house of horrors.)

At the next gas stop, Jimmy (the friend) suspiciously offered to take Saxon (my puppy, not my toddler or my baby) in the truck with him.

Two hours later, the RV filled with smoke.  The problem is, the front windows were open…and the fire was in an engine compartment right behind the passenger seat.  So the fresh air was fanning the flames & blowing the smoke into the back of the rig.  Since my back was turned & I can’t smell, it took a while to notice.  By the time we pulled over, there was significant damage to the engine & smoke billowing out the windows.  Jimmy pulled over 50 yards or so ahead of us & ran back to help.

That’s when Saxon jumped out the window, into traffic on a busy highway.

The first time he was hit, it was a glancing blow that knocked him down and a few feet to the side.

He got up, limping but determined to make it back to us.

The second hit threw him into the air, and he landed with a thud in the next lane.

He got up again, and tried hobbling toward us, one leg dangling and his head down.

He was hit a third time before Jimmy ran into traffic and scooped Saxon up.  He died on the side of the road, just inside the Missouri border.

They managed to jerry-rig the engine compartment together, which worked long enough to get us into Rolla, MO.  There, we found a run-down motel with two vacancies, just as a monsoon rain opened up on us.  Did I mention this was in October?  So, it was cold.  And our motel room had no heat.

The baby got sick, the RV caught on fire, the dog died, the toddler watched it, and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, in monsoon rains, in mid-fall, with no heat.

Yeah, that’s just about rock bottom right there.

In the morning, we walked to a diner next to the motel.  It was a Sunday, and most everything was closed.  After hearing us tell our story to the waitress, someone offered to take my husband to a parts store that he knew was open.  Another stranger hooked him up with a garage willing to open up and lend him the tools needed to fix the RV.  Someone else bought our breakfast.  When we were still there at lunch, the diner covered that cost.

We left Rolla that evening with a newfound appreciation for small-town life and Missourians, in particular.

And then… just a few years ago, Missouri came through for me again.

I took the kids to Tennessee with my sister’s family.  We spent a week there, doing the typical family vacation stuff.  On the final day, we split up.  Kim headed home with her family while I took my kids up Clingman’s Dome.  The goal was to make it to the highest point in the Smokies before heading home ourselves.  We made our way slowly up the mountain, sporadically getting out to hike or check out the view.

Just before we got to the top, the truck started to overheat.

And slow down.

I haven’t been up many mountains.  But I assume most mountains are like Clingman’s Dome… lots of sheer drops and rock walls, but not so many pull-offs.

Just before my truck rolled to a complete stop, a pull-off appeared around the bend.  I got out & put the hood up (not that I’d know what to do once I was under there).  That’s when I noticed the heavy stream of reddish-brown fluid running under the truck and down the mountain.  I had blown the transmission seal (or something).  The point was… there was NO way I was going to make it the rest of the way up that mountain.  I had the kids get out and move away from the truck while I tried to put it in gear, hoping to turn it around and coast back down.  Only when I put it in drive, it rolled backward, just inches from the edge of a several hundred-foot drop.

At this point, we still thought this was funny.

That’s when I had my meltdown.  The kids got back in the truck, as I went behind it to lose my shit & make some frantic calls for help.

By now, we had been stuck for nearly an hour, watching cars from every state (including my own) drive past my steaming vehicle.  I got some stares, a few dirty looks… but not one of those drivers would pull over to help a mom & 4 kids.  (Okay, other than a guy from Florida, who took Kid1 to the ranger station at the top of the dome to call for a tow truck.)

Not surprisingly, the first car with a Missouri plate DID pull over.  The couple offered to take us down the mountain, but I had to stay and wait for the tow.  Instead, since I knew we wouldn’t all fit into the tow truck, they took my sons down the mountain and into Gatlinburg.  They dropped them off in town, where they met up with my sister (who had been 2 hours away, but had turned around to help me figure out what the hell to do next).  They handed us a few bottles of water, and what was left of their box of granola bars to hold us over.  I was also given a sheet of notebook paper with their names, vehicle make & model, license plate number, and places of employment.  The wife explained that they had kids, too, so she would feel better knowing that I was comfortable with the people I was turning my sons over to.

See?! NICEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD!

Five freezing hours later (BIG temperature difference at the top of that mountain!), the tow truck arrived.  We squeezed into the cab of the truck, Kid2 awkwardly in the middle (where the driver had to reach between her knees to shift gears), and Kid4 on my lap.   45 minutes later, he dropped us off at his “station,” a small garage in a nearby town, and we slowly made our way back into Gatlinburg via a long and convoluted series of trolley rides.

By the time we met back up with my sons (and sister’s family), we were exhausted and drenched from the rain that had opened up as soon as we stepped off the first trolley.  We checked into the last open room in town, a dive motel with two beds.

There were 10 of us.

We abandoned my SUV, heading home the next day in a rental.

And the Missourians who helped us get off that mountain?  I got a call from them a few days later.  They wanted to see if we made it home okay, or if we might need a ride.  No mention of how MY state was in the exact opposite direction of Missouri.

I don’t know that any of the MO peeps that have come through for me have been directly affected by the recent tornadoes and flooding.  All I know is that if the tables were turned & I needed help, MO peeps would be there.

So, I’m asking MY peeps to be there for them.

Please click http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/05/23/joplin.how.to.help/index.html?hpt=T2 .  There you’ll find a listing of the various ways to help the Joplin, MO recovery.

They’d do it for you.

June 7, 2011 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People, Travel | 4 Comments

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