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.

Advertisements

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

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

How I Spent My BlahgCation

In my last post, I mentioned the need to get hot before my daughter deleted my fan club. I mean, I didn’t REALLY think she would delete my fan club. Could she? WOULD SHE? Answer: SHE WOULD.  Apparently we are now at critical mass. If we were using that goofy scale that Prez Bush came up with to determine terrorist threats, I would be at code red.  In case you forgot, RED AIN’T GOOD!

Anyway, so I got a message from Kid1 the other day, who essentially demanded I get this blog going again.  Then HE made a threat to take down my fan club, blah blah blah, something about his career, blah blah blah…

Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s even an admin of the club.  So that feels like an empty threat at best.

My point to all of this is my audience is comprised mostly of my spawn & they can’t brag about their mama if their mama doesn’t get off her ass & give them something to brag about!

End result?  You get a long overdue blog post.  AND I GET TO KEEP MY FAN CLUB for a little bit longer!  Win-win!!

The truth is, my life has been stupid busy since the last time you’ve heard from me!  We had 2 weddings this year, so my kid levels have jumped up to a Duggar-like 6!  I NOW HAVE SIX KIDS!!!  Luckily they’re all old enough that I don’t have to change any diapers or remind them to keep their hands out of their mouths.  I mean, usually.

Kid3 married his college love two days after they graduated  in Virginia . This meant a road trip.  The hubby had been keeping a crazy work schedule since the beginning of the year & I am always on the prowl for adventure, so we made a vacation out of it.  Vacation, followed by big-ass party?  YES, PLEASE!  We spent a few days alone on the road, reminding one another why we don’t make more road trips…then rented a working farm to call home base with the family in VA.  Actually, a farm probably wasn’t my best choice. Birds freak me out, so the free range chickens that swarmed my car was a flock of noisy nightmare.  Also, it was 45 minutes of hairpin, dirt-road hell to get to any type of civilization & they have bears there.   So there’s that.

IMG_2486

The end result?  I got an awesome new daughter & all I had to give up was a little of my pride by running from chickens.

Next up in the Bonesy family drama-rama?  Kid1 deployed. DEPLOYED!  That’s when they take the beautiful baby that was once connected to you by actual tissue & blood flow… and deposit him on the other side of the planet.

At this point,  I MAY have spent a few days drinking away my feelings, hiding out from society & sobbing into the fur of a Golden Retriever.

It’s my process.

But then I had to sober up & snap out of it.  Kid2 got married at the end of August!

Deployment meant Kid #1 couldn’t be in town for his little sister’s wedding, so I fixed that for her.

Picture by Cannon Candids Photography

I found a company online that made a Flat Kid1 & got it to me just in time for the wedding.

I can honestly say that I did not flash anyone at Kid2’s reception, though she probably would have thought that was AWESOME!  I did host a vodka closet, do a little ghost hunting, & pass around a Mason jar of  ‘shine, though.

I mean, don’t even pretend like you didn’t do that stuff at your wedding.

Mixed into all of that other stuff, Kid4 transferred schools & moved away.

(Cue the feelings-drinking music again, please.)

We have no major life events on the horizon, so now I’m back to looking for other outlets for my ADD and a new excuse to open a bottle of vodka.  Trevor appreciates the lack of snot in his fur, though.

Trevor[1]

 

September 11, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Love, Marriage, Travel | 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

Ratings

I’ve been demoted.  This has nothing to do with my new boss having read my blog.  (I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.)  Actually, it has nothing to do with my day job at all.

Nope.  I’ve been demoted by my child, the infamous Kid2.

Earlier today, I had this convo:

Kid2: Woman, don’t you EVER answer your phone?

Me: What are you talking about?

Kid2: Well, I’ve sent you like 3 texts lately that you haven’t bothered to respond to.

Me:  Are you feeling unloved?

Kid2: Maybe a little. But one was pretty important, so you suck.

Me: Also, I’m kind of awesome.

Kid2: But mostly you suck.

Me: With a side of awesome.

Kid2: Well, sometimes.

Sometimes!?

I have now been demoted to “sometimes” status on the Scale of Awesome.

So, in order to remedy that, I’ve agreed to go to her sorority Founders Day brunch next month.   I’m not quite sure why she wants me to do this.  Have I mentioned that I like to leave an impression?

“Like to” might be a bit of a stretch.  It kinda just happens.  I can’t be trusted in public settings.

So, apparently, Kid2 is just asking for it.   Which means she secretly loves when I embarrass her.

Which means I’m pretty fucking awesome, whether she’ll admit it or not.

July 24, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Textersations | , , , , , | 2 Comments

What It’s Like To Be My Kid

 

 

Kid3:

 

Me: Sweet! Are you at the creepy puppet museum? If so, take drugs to sleep tonight.  Otherwise, the nightmares will make you crazy.  That’s how creepy puppet museums work.  They’re a front for the makers of Ambien.

Kid3: Howdy Doody?  Lol  Emily took me to the natural bridge and they had a toy museum that we looked at in the gift shop.  The toy museum was free!

Me: Really?!  That’s because old toys are creepy.  And creeped out kids get nightmares.  Nightmares are free.  Know what’s not free?  The drugs parents buy to make sure creeped out kids sleep.  It’s all about the drugs.

Kid3: You are a junkie.

Me: I get nightmares.

Kid3: Was Howdy Doody before your time & more for Aunt Kim? I remember one of you two was making fun of us for looking like Howdy Doody or something when we were younger.

Me: Howdy was from the 50s, but I think we watched reruns.  We make fun because we love.  Also, because we hate.  And because we feel ambivalent.  But with you, it was def out of love. 

Kid3: Ah okay.  It looked old but I didn’t know how old.  But we know that’s why you did it all those years.

July 13, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Sleep, Textersations | 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

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

The one where I describe what it’s like to be me.

I got a new boss today. I have a sneaking suspicion that she tastes like bananas.  I didn’t lick her.  There are laws.

BUT, I felt like I could smell bananas all day! It’s a curious thing, seeing as how I actually can’t smell.

Instead, I can taste the air around things.  Sometimes.  Today was one of those times & I’ll be damned if that air didn’t taste like an overripe banana!

Not that my new boss is overripe.  I’m pretty sure she just graduated.  It’s a toss-up as to whether it was college or high school.  Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to have changed her diapers.

When she was a baby.  Not now.  That’s just weird.

ANYWAY…you know how, when people lose one sense, their other senses are heightened?

It’s a myth.

At least for me.

I can’t speak for blind people.

I can speak for mutes, however.  They usually like it, as long as they don’t know what I’m talking about.

Typically, not being able to smell isn’t a bad thing.  I mean, if you have to give up one of your senses, smell is the best choice.

I’m not clear under which scenario you would be forced to give up a sense.  But, if you ever have to choose, take my advice & go with “smell.”

Apparently, in addition to the loss of smell, I’ve also lost my ability to focus.

My point to all of this is that, while I can’t actually smell, I can taste.  (That’s usually the first thing people want to know when they find out my oddity.)

This is both good & bad.

Bananas?  Good.

Dirty diapers?  Not so much.

Because of this, my kids were all potty trained ridiculously early.  My advice to new moms on potty training?  Taste it.  There is no greater motivator than the taste of a shitty diaper.

I’m hoping my new boss continues to taste like bananas.

**I’m blaming this post on the huffing that I may have accidentally done yesterday while doing arts & crafts.  In an enclosed space.  With both spray paint and high performance spray adhesive.**

December 12, 2015 Posted by | Advice, Family, Kids, People, Work | 6 Comments

%d bloggers like this: