When I Almost Got Arrested, Or Something

This week consisted of way too much running around, all for school crap that I didn't know we needed until the last fucking moment. Yesterday, we showed up at the school, vax records in hand, to get Minion 1 signed out, and ready to do her work from home.

Only to be cock-blocked by the school requiring a social security card. I don't even know how that's legal, but what ev. So Minion 1 was totally unprepared to stay, but being the loving, supportive mom that I am, I was all, "Tough shit, sit and do work."

I went home, knowing we did not have a soc card for M1 anymore- at least, not anywhere I'd be able to find it at. So I logged on, checked out what was needed, and shit myself sideways. If you are over the age of 12, you need to be present to get a soc card. I, as her loving, supportive mom, can't do it. SHE has to. WTF. AND, with a photo ID no older than a year old.

As she's 15, no drivers license.
As she's at a small school, no school ID.
As she's not a criminal, no prison ID.

I went back and got her, only an hour after she showed up, and made her dig out her school ID from last year. I'm personally amazed that she found it, because this? Has nothing on her room.

Low and behold, she found it, so we were off. Discounting the jackass who came about 3" from driving straight into the passenger's side of our car when he pulled out of a driveway, we made it there safe and sound.

Then, we walked in.

  

Holy Shit. It was like a free sale at Walmart. Everyone, their mama, and their crazy uncle Larry were there. I looked at M1, groaned, and said, "Guess we're not meeting your dad for lunch. We're gonna be here for six hours. You better love me."

We went in, and got signed in, then went to sit down. They had a different sort of system there. When you sign in, you tell the computer what you are there for, and it assigns you a specific letter and number combo based on what you need. That way, they can speed through the people who only have a small problem, and slow down the people who are gonna need an hour of one on one time to sort shit out.

Luckily for us, ours was a speedy one.

On the wall in front of us was a TV, showing ad's for Social Security- in English AND Spanish. Yay! It also showed which numbers they were on for each of the four letters (A-D). They were on A15 when we walked in, and we were A19. As a side note, they were on C204 for almost the entire time we were there, before calling the next number. B didn't move at all.

So we sit and wait for Social Security Bingo to call on us, and start acting... well, like ourselves. We like to compare ourselves to the Gilmore Girls, if you've ever seen the show. We roll with each other's punches, and make almost any situation fun.

I happen to notice an AD on the tv that said blah, blah, blah, No Guns, No Violence, No Weapons, No Eating, No Drinking, No Smoking, No Photos, No Video, No Disturbances! You will be Fined, Arrested, And/Or Banned!

....Banned? From what? The building? From Social Security? I was perplexed, but told M1 not to do anything horrible, or she would be BANNED, and have to use the SS website for the REST of her LIFE.

Then I started thinking. And noticing the signs all around us. No Eating, No Drinking, No Smoking.

RIGHT over top of the water fountain? A No Eating, No Drinking, No Smoking sign. No drinking? Over a drinking fountain? I think perhaps they're just confused over what exactly a drinking fountain is. M1 told me to take a drink. I was all, NO WAY! There's a security guard!! Sure, he was 95, and blind as a bat, but STILL!

We kept trying to get the other one to be a rebel and take a drink, but finally, we were called back. I got up, and started walking around trying to find this mysterious Window 6 (there were only 5 windows... wth??), while M1 apparently ducked off, drank from the forbidden drinking fountain, then took off running after me.

Had the guard NOT been 95 and blind, I think I'd be typing up a whole different ending to this for ya'll. There's probably a warrant out for our Fine, Arrest, and/or Banning.

I can't take her ANYWHERE.

Minion 1 and her Vaccination Adventure

Minion 1 is going to an online school this year for HS. It's this whole big deal about being responsible, doing shit, and what not. School, only at home. In your jammies. Where the fuck was that shit at when I was in HS?

Moving on. Before she can actually begin working from home, she has to be up to date on her vaccinations (hereby called Vax, cause fucking typing that is annoyingly long), which was really just her Varicella vax (chicken pox). When she was little, the varicella vax was just 1 shot and done. Now it's 2, so she had to get that taken care of.

Meanwhile, I had been explaining to her that the info from the school was wrong, that she needed more like 5 shots updated. Because I love fucking with her. Yes, I'm that parent. At one point, she even stated very clearly that she had no need for a Tetnus, because she just had one 3 years ago, and they are good for 10 years.

I told her "Better Safe Than Sorry, pumpkin. No leaving THIS to change- might as well load you up while they can!"

It was the stuff dreams are made of. See, raising a 15 year old girl isn't the stuff dreams are made of. And while we generally have an easy go of it, just occasionally, we don't. In those instances, we dream of pay back. So this whole shot thing? Payback for being the mom of a teen.

 

Shots of the Mommy Variety

 Shots of the Minion 1 Variety. You can see where I would prefer my kind.

So we get to the Health Dept, and immediately, she's all tearing eyed over the prospect of leaving looking like a pin cushion. I'm that parent that laughs, and jokes with someone to get them to forget what's going on. Like when we saw a pamplet in the waiting room that said, "Conceiving: Let's Have A Baby", and I offered to pick one up for her to give her girlfriend.

Or, when the teenage boy walked out after a 3 second appointment, and the mom was all, "Done already? And you didn't even cry?", and I was all (loudly, of course), "SEE? He didn't cry, and he's just as old as you are!"

At one point, the receptionist came over, and said, "I can see you are a smart girl, so why are you losing it over here? Just suck it up, you'll be fine." Or something. I wish I had been recording it, because it came out a lot more awesome than that, because she was laughing at M1 just as much as I was.

Then we got back in the room, and M1 Lost. Her. Shit. There was pulling away. There was slapping the nurse's hand away. There was whimpering. And when we finally got the needle in? There was screaming. Maybe not full blasted, some dude is murdering me screaming, but it was close.

She was crying. She was screaming. She was squealing like a stuck pig. It. Was. Awesome. (From a blogging stand point, that is).

Afterwards, the nurse talked with us for about 5 minutes about the school, about Minion 1, about my blog, about the hair shit I make and sell, etc. And then? She gave M1, my 15 year old, a sticker. M1 squealed like a 10 year old girl who just met Justin Beaver (or something) in person, over a Tigger sticker.

Man Candy of the Week

Let's start this off with a bang. Or, for me anyway. I fully realize this is an older dude, and that not everyone sees it. But I, for one, would totally leave Spouse AND the Minions if it were with this guy right here.

Only, preferably? He'd be in full on bad guy mode the entire time, because he makes one very delicious bastard in the movies. I'll take him with long hair please- black, not platinum, with a sneer firmly in place as he spanks me. Erm.... blood related relatives? Probably best to ignore that I posted that little tid bit there. Edit it in your minds to read: "with a sneer firmly in place as he cooks for me."

Moving on. My man candy of the week is Jason Isaacs. I'll take 1 of him. Or 2, if you have it.

Monday's Words of Wisdom

 
Damn it! You know what? I'm sick of this crap. I'm sick of being the guy who eats insects, and gets the funny syphilis. As of this moment, it's over. I'm finished being everybody's butt-monkey! - Xander, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Shit You Ignored Last Week

 

 Dancing With The Never Was - A post bemoaning reality TV, and it's "stars" 

Google's Fucking With Me - I suspect that Google, in all it's infinite knowledge and wisdom, just sometimes likes to fuck with people and make us all go WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?!?

Can We Just Not Make That? - A look at the ever evolving world of Men's Fashion, in terms of how girly we can get them. Mankini? I don't fucking think so.

Minion 1 and her MAJOR Award! - This past week, M1 won herself a MAJOR award. Perhaps not as awesome as a leg lamp, but not a bad little award.

Meat Blanket Pizza - Have you ever tried a Chicago Deep Dish Pizza? Apparently, neither have I, but what I did try? Was kind of revolting to look at.

Meat Blanket Pizza

Yo comí anoche una pizza de la manta de la carne. 

*Translation curtsey of babelfish, in case it's fucked the hell up.*

So yesterday, Spouse, M3, and I went to a local pizza place that we love. It's a fantastic place- depending on which chef they have hired at any given time. When we first moved here, they had the BEST alfredo I have ever had in my life.

Then they got a new chef. And it turned very mediocre, and borderline yucky. It's bounced back and forth, but it's never gotten as good as it was when we first moved here. I still dream about that alfredo. It had a slightly smoked flavor to it. SO fucking good.

I digress. We decided to go with a deep dish pizza- they called it Deep Dish/Chicago Style Pizza. All right, sure.

If you know me, you know I'm as picky as a 4 year old when it comes to my food. I hate trying something new, and if it looks gross, my brain figures it IS gross, so I don't try it.

I was anticipating some good deep dish action though.

What I got? Not so much with the deep dish. It had this like tall outer crust that folded down, but it was by no means a deep dish pizza. But that's only the start of my complaint.

We went with just Sausage and Pepperoni. M3 only likes Pepperoni, so we went light on the toppings.

What came out of the kitchen was a shock to my delicate, picky system. It looked... gross. Mostly because at first, second, and third glance, I had no clue what the brown shit was.

I did try it. I really did. And it wasn't bad. BUT, with every bite, I had to get over that meat blanket look. With every bite, I had to re-convince my eyes that it tasted good, because it looked like ass. Nasty, gross ass.

I finally covered it all in Parmesan cheese. It didn't help, because I knew what it looked like under the cheese.

I didn't finish a piece. Good thing the appetizer was fan-fucking-tastic.

Minion 1 and her Major Award

My oldest minion started going to an online high school. Part of the program does include attending classes at a local building from time to time. The building was an Elementary school up until the end of last year. Now, it's rented by the online school, so that they have a 'campus' to go to. And also a playground. And an empty library, and a cafeteria that isn't used. I digress.

Yesterday (actually 2 days ago by the time you read this), M1 came home all sorts of giddy, clutching a little box like her life depended on it.

Minion1: Guess what, guess what, guess what! I got an award!

Me: Ok, what did you do for it?

M1: We had to tell the class about something we remember really well.

(I was at this point expecting to hear about the "OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE" story again)

Me: What'd you tell them?

M1: About when me and J got together. (J is her girlfriend. Yes, my daughter is a lesbian. Or not. She hasn't decided)

Me: Awesome. They gave you an award for being a lesbo?

M1: No! I didn't want to do it. So I cried. A lot. Like a -lot-.

Me: So they gave you a prize for being a little bitch? (yes, I actually talk to my almost 16 year old that way, but she knows I don't -mean- it, and hey, she gets my sense of humor, and if you've stuck around long enough to read this much, you should totally understand my particular brand of humor as well by now!)

M1: No! They voted for me! They love me, they really love me!

Me: Back up. Who voted for you, and why? Was it the crying thing? Seriously, it's only good when used in an emergency. Don't over use it.

M1: We were taking turns telling the class our memory, and I was scared, and upset, so I cried-

Me: Like a little bitch

M1: (continuing as though I said nothing- and kept getting more upset, but I did it- Igot up and told my story. Afterwards, the teacher had everyone vote for their 2 favorite, and like 8 people voted for me!

Me: Huh. Nifty.

M1: They gave me THIS! (She held out a card blah-blahing about the award), and THIS (the box opened to reveal a nice silver-ish ink pen.) And I'm so happy, I don't even care that they spelled my name wrong, which usually just pisses me off!

Me: So what you're saying, is you got a Major Award?

M1: Only not as cool as a Leg Lamp.

Me: Agreed.

All kidding aside? I'm proud of the little twerp. I'm hoping things like that will help her succeed at the school. She's not the scholarly type, despite being smart enough, that she was invited to take the SAT's after excelling at a big test in the 7th grade. She's like I was- hates being in school, hates doing the homework.

Can We Please NOT Make This Stuff?

The other day on Yahoo, a pictorial popped up. Stuff made for women that are showing up on the runway made for men.

Can we just stop for a minute, scratch our heads, and give a collective Whaaaaaaaaaaat?

Ok, deep breath. Ready for this shit? Me either, but buck up, champ. If I can get through it, so can you.

First up, the Mandals. Ok, so the term has been around for a while. They're just sandals. Not so bad in the grand scheme of stupid shit we're about to stumble onto.

Another older term- Murse. A man purse. Can we just all collectively agree that men can carry a back pack, or a messenger bag, but draw the line at a fucking snakeskin clutch? Seriously. It's not manly. The manly men in the real world? They're laughing their fucking asses off at how dumb you look, Mr. Metrosexual.

Mewelry. You know, I'm fine with just calling it jewelry. Wear your necklaces, your rings. Don't make it sound fucking ridiculous by giving it a new name. Men have worn jewelry since the stone ages.

Now, let's get creepy, shall we?

Meggings. Man Leggings. I get it. All the Fall Out Boy wannabe's out there are struggling to find jeans tight enough that still leave room for your junk. It's not easy, is it? And forget being able to bend over. Maybe now, you feel the pain us women go through trying to look sexy. Maybe not- eh. But as a heterosexual woman, I have to draw the line at Meggings. Ya'll look fucking horrifying. All those women looking at you? They're not in awe. Or maybe they are, but not in a good way.

Marfist. I don't even want to KNOW how they got the name, but it's a Man Scarf. No, not the thing you wear out of necessity in the dead of winter in Michigan. I'm talking frilly, silky, floral print scarfs. Worn purely as decoration. Ryan Gosling apparently has rocked one. Again? You look like a MORON. Don't do it. Don't ever do it.

Mantyhose. I don't even know where to start. Ok, women have worn hosiery of some sort for a long time. Until somewhat recently in history, it was sort of a requirement. Back in the days when men dictated that Women couldn't do anything without first asking permission, this was the staple of every woman's outfit. Along with 6 layers of fucking skirts, just to make sure the outer skirt was puffed out AND your legs were not seen. Hosiery has evolved, and people wear it as a visible accessory now. But for the love of my fucking Sanity, we don't wear it because it's comfortable! It's not! It pinches, it pulls, it runs, it sags, it tears, and it is just about the most uncomfortable thing left in terms of every day women's clothing accessories.

Mirts- Man skirts. Yeah. Back in my school days, I knew a dude who rocked a floor length skirt. He did it to be different. He was a unique chap. But the average, every day dude does not rock a skirt. They just look awkward, uncomfortable, and downright horrid in a skirt. And let's face it, if you want to rock a skirt, you would need to shave those fuzzy legs, boys, don a pair of Mantyhose, and Meels. That's Man Heels, which leads me to....

Meels- Man Heels. Sexy little spiked Louboutins, Manolos, and more. Spiked, platformed, you name it. Can we just leave the heels to the women, and the cross dressers? What man wants to walk into a bar to pick up women, while trying to walk the walk, without spilling themselves and their drink on the ground. You don't have the arch for it. Or the asses.

Last up- the Mankini. Can we all just agree that if you don't have boobs, you don't need a Mankini? Would you wear a bra?

I'm all for men being in touch with their sensitive side. But I also prefer my men to be... well, manly. I don't want someone who has a better fashion sense than me. Or who spends more time in front of the mirror than me. Or who spends more on clothing than me.

I'll admit, I'm a fairly low maintenance girl. I can rock a pair of Louboutins with my Goodwill jeans. If I could afford Louboutins, that is. The point is, brands and cost are not what I go for. I go for something I look good in, and is comfortable to wear. But when I get ready, I toss that shit on, run a brush through my hair, -maybe- add a splash of light makeup, and I'm done. Usually in under 10 minutes, unless I have to shower. It really wouldn't take much for a person to take longer than me getting ready.

I have a friend. She loves to say she's low maintenance. She has to be the highest maintenance person I've ever met, in my entire life. Brand's matter- from the type of shampoo she uses, to the lotion, panties, shoes, jacket she wears. The mirror time takes at least 20 minutes on makeup alone. Her entire body is lotioned, perfumed, then powdered, to ensure everyone can smell her "scent". She's fun, but man- that is not low maintenance.

The bottom line is this. Women actually like men. If you really want to march to the beat of your own drum, I guess go for it. But if you wear something simply because some questionably manly guy in a magazine wore it? Please pass on the Girly Man Fashions.

Please. Please please please please please!

Google's Fucking With Me

I went over to Google today to play a round of "What pops up when I type in random shit." It's a popular game, and a lot of fun sometimes. And it really makes me wonder about the human species, and just how it managed to not only survive, but really thrive.

First up- Do Parents....

Personally, my favorite on this one is "Do parents own their children." Huh. Interesting.

Second we have- Does My Cat...

 

Does my cat know I'm pregnant? I was surprised when I clicked that at just how many people wonder that.

Third Up -Does My....

I like how Dogs, Boyfriends, and Computers all share billing here. It's apparently a big concern about whether or not pets know you are growing a little baby friend in your belly.

Fourth Up - Will He...

Will he come back? Will he merry me? Will hemorrhoids rule our future together???? It's burning questions like these that force me to turn to Google for answers. Rest assured, he'll come back, knock you up, leave when you have hemorrhoids, and find another girl to go back to.

Last Up- Can My Dog....

And we have the winner for most disturbing post. It worries me that people actually want to know if they can have puppy/human hybrids. 

Then again, maybe I should stop worrying. When people find shit like this on the interwebs, all sorts of shit breaks down. Like the laws of nature. No, it's not real, ya'll. It's a statue. You can tell by the NOT REALNESS of how it looks.

Dancing with the Never Was

In today's world of reality entertainment, a person can become famous for no reason at all. Someone who has no talent, no future, and no conception of real life. Case in point, Snooki. That little troll is nothing more than a pocket sized drunk who got famous for doing what she does best- getting drunk.

Note to future self- when a time machine is invented, can someone please go back in time and just eliminate Jersey Whores before it becomes a show? K thanks.

But back to the topic at hand. Dancing with the Stars. Sure, there have been a few "stars". Even more "has beens", and now, they're really just scrapping the barrel and going with "famous by proximity to someone who might have been famous once".

Who are half of these people?

Rob Kardashian- Famous because his sister made a sex tape that "leaked" at just the right time to help launch her career as a... what? What is it that Kim started out doing?

Chaz Bono - All right, for starters, I will say this. I am glad that he became what he wanted to be. I think everyone should be who they were meant to be. Except, you know, serial killers. And also people who are just mean. But back to Chaz. I am glad he is who he is. But why is he famous? Because his parents were? Has he done anything himself, aside from a highly publicized sex change operation?

Nancy Grace - Famous for ruthlessly going after people she doesn't like. Uh.. all right.

Elisabetta Canalis - Famous for fucking someone famous, and that's it. How is that a star?

In the past, they have grabbed reality "stars", athletes, politicians,  models, actors, singers, chefs, and more. I think they really are stretching the term "Stars".

I am so over hearing about this show. Maybe it's because of the people who cleverly protested Chaz Bono's involvement. What did that protest do? It brought more exposure to both the show, and the "plight" of Chaz. While I do agree that Chaz likely has had issues, I have to wonder how many problems the rich, celebrity son of Cher actually has compared to the average transgender off the street getting a sex change. Plight? Certainly not- sorry Chaz! There are far more people out there who have struggled more than you'll ever understand, so I don't really feel that bad for you.

Reality shows used to be something unique- fun to watch, unscripted (ok, somewhat), and unique. Now? I'm surprised there isn't a show about people who literally just sit on the sofa watching reality shows. Seriously.

So over reality shows, and all the press hype over Chaz Bono.


As an aside? Happy birthday, Daddy! Yer old!

Monday's Words of Wisdom

Are you stalking me? Because that would be SUPER! - Van Wilder from the movie Van Wilder

And if you are not yet stalking me, there are buttons on the side- Facebook, Twitter, following me here, on Network Blogs, and even an email feed. STALK ME! Seriously- I like it. Oh, and if you ARE stalking me? I love link love- share me with your friends. The best advertising is word of mouth.

So this past week, I didn't get jack done. I had a sore throat for half the week. Then I had an allergy attack for the last half of the week. Now I have a belly full of snot, so there's an upside. Or not.

STILL SICK - a descriptive post about the all sorts of NASTY my body was putting me through. A must read, if I do say so myself. Why, I think this masterpiece will likely be nominated for some sort of award. Or not.

BAD PARENTING ADVICE: WHAT NOT TO SAY... - A long, and humorous (if I say so myself, which I do) look at the fucked up questions kids ask, and how not to answer them. I really think this one is worth half a giggle or maybe even a full one. Read at work, after your co-worker told you some insipid story about how her 5 year old did something completely normal- for a 3 year old.

ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF SPOILED AMERICAN TEENS - Ok, I'll be the first to admit, this came out way harsher than planned. However, I was hopped up on cold medicine, and no sleep. That's my only excuse.


REAL CONVERSATIONS: SUCH LOVE - This was mostly just a random little convo between Spouse and I. He feels I'm damaged goods. Ha- joke's on him! He broke me, he has to buy me. Or keep me.

TWO AND A HALF PENISES - Penii? An older post, but relevant to TODAY, so go check it out! BLOG SAND CROTCH MICROMACHINE!

Real Conversations: Such love...

Spouse: I love you, but you're damaged goods, you know that, right?

Me: Why this time?

Spouse: I just read your blog update.

Me: Really? I thought it was pretty tame this time.

Spouse: Damaged goods.

Another Example of Spoiled American Teens

Whether you are 60 or 12, you have all heard your parents use the phrase "When I was a kid, we didn't...." It could have been about things they didn't do. It may have been about the things they didn't have. But all parents have said it, and regurgitated it right back on our own off spring.

Over the past 10 or 12 years, there has been a major noticeable difference in the spoiled levels that kids today have. The average pre-teen walks around with $400 worth of electronic toys on them- phones, video game systems, music players, etc. They have personal computers in their rooms, high definition TV's, dvd players, and a large assortment of other high cost toys.

I'm gonna go ahead and say it. When I was a kid, we didn't have that stuff. If someone in our high school even had their own phone line, they were one of a very select few. Sure, a decent amount of kids had TV's in their rooms- nothing fancy. Usually just hand me downs. I think I had 1 friend who had her own VCR. Yes, VCR- not DVD player. What was that? Not around, that's what.

So when kids today complain that they're bored, or that they won't be cool if they don't have the latest, greatest whatever gizmo, I just really want to smack them back to 1982, and see how long before they have a mental breakdown. Or, heaven forbid, have to remember a phone number.

See, phones back then? They didn't come with all the numbers of your closest 200 friends stored in them. You had to remember it. I still remember my childhood best friends phone number, and I don't think I've called in 15 years.

Video game systems were few and far between, and consisted of an Atari (old school even when the original NES was out), or the "new" Nintendo Entertainment System.

Today's kids have countless systems. Thousands of games to pick from. They can log on and play the game against someone in Singapore, or Paris, or from the next town over. They can play online, offline, portable, on computers. They can download, upload, and show videos of the "great" accomplishment they had. They collect virtual badges or trophy's showing just how awesome they are.

And yet, one little girl is brassed off that she can't play a chick in the NHL video game. And so, in helping maintain that the kids in the US are the most spoiled brats in existance, her father urged her to write to EA Sports and complain that the game is not FUN because she has to look like a burly man-dude when playing the game.

She feels that with the millions of female hockey players out there, they should have their own female character. And, EA Sports agreed. First off, is the game different from a female perspective? With a helmet on your player, can you spot on the screen which one is female and which isn't? If not, how is it that the game is no fun from a female playing a male perspective, but perfectly fine from a female playing a female perspective?

It isn't so much this spoiled child that gets me. It's that this is the example parents are giving their kids. Don't like something? Bitch and complain until you get your own way. And yet, we all sit back blinking at the high levels of bratty, snotty attitudes teens today have. Or, at the plethora of people in their 20's who have never even attempted to move away from home.

Why should they? Mom and Dad make their meals, do their laundry, and tuck them into bed at night- all with a healthy allowance.

At what point did it become acceptable to hand everything over to our kids? I'll say this- I've been guilty of this as well, though I will also say that I have zero tolerance for bratty "Give it to me now" attitudes. If we walk into a store, the kids know ahead of time whether or not they will be able to pick something out. 99 times out of 100, the answer is NO, put it down.

New $400 cell phones, $300 iPods, $800 lap tops, $100 digital camera, $200 portable video game system, $200 in downloaded music and games, $100 in game discs. And all so the snotty little brats can pitch a fit when something doesn't go their way. And let's not even get into the parents who spend more on their child's Sweet 16 than most people spend on their first home.

I know a few parents with older kids who have no idea where they went wrong. These older kids may or may not be in High school still. I'm not pointing fingers. But, I do know one of these parents who was letting their child go out and party with college kids when said child was a high school freshman. I know another parent whose child has crashed 3 cars, and gotten a newer vehicle each time. I know another parent whose kid had 2 kids of her own in high school, and let her parents raise them.

At some point, parents have to sit back and realize that they don't have to say Yes, just because someone else's parents did. And they don't have to spend a small fortune on Christmas just because they did last year. And they don't have to take the snotty attitude, just because that's what the kid is like.

Grow a back bone, America. It's time to explain to the kids of today that sometimes, life sucks, and you won't always get your way.

Bad Parenting Advice: What NOT To Say...

When you become a parent, you get to deal with all the questions that come out of your kids mouths. If you counted how many questions are asked in the average day, you'd probably arrive at 7283 questions. If you didn't, your kid is slow. Sorry to be the one breaking that little nugget of information to you.

Moving on... the average kid needs to know everything about everything whether it has anything to do with him or not. Some are easier to answer than others.

Why is the sky blue? Because a red sky would be too dark.

Why do I have 10 toes? Because if you only had 5, you'd walk funny.

Why is Suzy's hair orange? Because even Ginger's mate.

Why did Billy get an A on his test, but I only got a C? Because you have us for your genetic gene pool. Sorry kid, you lose.


Why does Alice have two dads, but no moms? Uh... because sometimes.... you see.... uh.... ? I don't know kid, Go Ask Alice.

Why does brown bread taste funny, but white bread tastes good? Uh... because it just does! Eat up!

Why can't I fly? Because I forgot to order wings for you when I placed my order. Ok, that was an easy one to answer.

Why don't you make rice krispy treats like Mike's mom with sprinkles? Because she loves her kid more than I do.

Why does Polly sit down to pee, when I stand up? Because when she was little, and I told her to stop playing with it, she didn't, and it FELL OFF! Now you know why I always tell YOU to stop playing with it.



If Zombies attack the house, which one of us will you save first, Mom? Uh... which one is lightest to carry? Oh... you lose, sorry kid.

If Suzy kisses me, will I have a baby? WHAT are they teaching you at that school?!?! No, dear- SUZY will have a baby, not you!

How does the fireman pee if they have to pee? .....I got nothing, kid.

Will I die if I jump out of the airplane, or just get there faster? ...... Try it and see. I'll time you.

If jump off the top of the swing set with a bag, will I float to the ground? Sure, kid. Like a feather.

What does the tooth fairy do with teeth? Sells em back to God, who recycles em, and uses them again. Now brush good, sweety! We don't want to give someone else your cavities!

Why do boys have a penis, and girls go to China? .....I think you missed something there, pumpkin.

Why do I have to take a bath? Because your skin needs to be watered, or it won't grow. Do YOU want to stay this size forever?

Why can't I pick my nose? Because boogers are part of your brain. Pick the wrong one, and you'll spend life sitting in a corner drooling and pooping your pants.

When I grow up, can I be a monkey? You already are, pumpkin.


How are babies made? Lots of alcohol, kiddo.

And the Queen Mother of all awkward questions... the one no one has ever been able to answer, or ever will be able to answer...




Why is Paris Hilton Famous? ......The world may never know.

It's important to impart a sense of humor on your child. And also a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Still Sick

I started feeling gross Sunday night. I knew I was getting a sore throat by that whole "Can't swallow without pain" bull shit that comes with a sore throat.

My head is throbbing. No fever, though it feels like I have one, so.. score? That's like double the symptoms with less of the actual problem.

Today, I leaned over to pick something up off the floor, and acid just sort of free flowed up my throat to burn off all the layers of mucus in my throat. I can't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It felt very much badly.

Yesterday, I told Spouse that if he brought me home chocolate, it would stave off the impending zombie-fever brain munchies. Turns out, though, that candy bars and sore throats are not copacetic. That's a fun word, there. Copacetic. 

But, I have shit I have to get done, so I'm up. Tonight, I shall once again sleep the sleep of a cold medicine induced coma. Wish me luck!

Monday's Words of Wisdom

"You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood -- blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it" - Spike, BtVS

This has long been a favorite line of mine. I would tell you how long, and why, but then the inner geek in me might really shine through, and we don't want to do that, now do we, puppies?

As you'll note, this is not a Gilmore Girl quote. I started re-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer this weekend, and was reminded of all the great quotes. In our house, we speak a lot in movie and TV quotes, but Buffy and Gilmore Girls are two of the top contenders- along with Disney movies and Van Wilder. We're a diverse family.

And also? I got sick. I directly blame this on seeing Contagion over the weekend, and Spouse wiping all his yucky germs all over me mockingly. He may not be sick, but he's still a carrier. Now that the house is empty, I am locking myself in my room with a can of Lysol, some Clorox wipes, a case of water, and some of the good medicine. I shall not leave, or let anyone in until the evil disease has claimed me as victim.

Ok, it may only be a sore throat, headache, and light fever, but I'm almost positive this ends with me becoming a brain eating zombie.

Remembering...

When I was in 7th grade, I was at a youth group one night when our leader came in and told us war had just broken out in the Middle East. The next day, my 7th grade Science teacher sat down and talked with us. Mr. Tice was probably the coolest teacher we'd ever had, or ever would have. He was funny, he told great stories, and he totally let me sit in the hall on GIANT ASS SNAKE IN THE CLASSROOM DAY. Bonus points for that.

He was old- his wife and son were also both teachers there at the school, and he was kind of like everyone's favorite Grandpa.

That day, he said to us- "It doesn't matter where you were when it happened, it's something you will always remember." Then he rambled on about where he was when the Civil War started. Or something.

And he was right- I have always remembered where we were when it was announced. Though, sometimes I think maybe I only remember because he told us we would. My mind is funny that way. It's like when I set my keys down in a different place than normal, I repeat (in my head, ya'll, I'm not THAT crazy!) where I sat them down. When I do that, I always remember where the hell those fucking things crawled off to.

Fast forward a few years. One September morning, I woke up, got M1 ready for school, then sat down at the computer. M2 was pretty young, still. I was still incubating M3, so imagine me as fat as can be, then add 20 pounds. I was seriously as big as our house with M3.

Just after 9, the message board I was on started lighting up like the 4th of July with posts about a plane crash. I ignored them at first, until more and more kept popping up. I finally turned the TV on just seconds before the 2nd plane crashed into the towers.

I remember being stunned. I remember just staring at the TV all day long. I remember being in a daze for several days afterwards. Being pregnant, I was already hormonal and emotional, so it's not much of a stretch to say I probably cried more through out those days than I ever had before. It was a horrible, emotional wreck for me.

I posted before about how I think I have asperger's syndrome. Well, this kind of goes hand in hand with it. I tend to feel an emotional pull towards things that shouldn't upset me as much as they do. That isn't to dismiss what was happening. But, let me be frank. You can be Sally.

I watched a movie the other day. Someone got out of jail, and his family made him a cake. I was on the verge of tears when they all got in a fight, and thought the stupid cake was going to be thrown, because here's this family spending this time putting this together, and then it's all ruined. Seriously, that's normal for me.

Anyway, when 9/11 happened, I spent hours and days wondering what I would do if I were stuck in a situation like that. If it was me and 2 kids, and I was pregnant, how would I save both of my kids? What about their lovies? M2 toted around an orange blanket and stuffed dog EVERYWHERE. M1 toted a ragged old blanket everywhere. What if I couldn't save all of it? What if they were crying, and upset? What if I had to carry both of them, and couldn't?

It was a horrible time for everyone, and those thoughts and fears triggered by that day have never fully gone away. If I drive over a big bridge, what would I do if it suddenly broke, and we were plunged into the water? What if someone fell, and I couldn't get to them?

I don't know what a psychologist would call it. I call it Anna's Fucking Paranoid of Disaster. Any time something big happens, my mind races. Hell, it isn't even just major world wide disasters. When spouse is even 5 minutes late getting home from work, I start scanning  the local news stations for reports of horrifying accidents. Because why else would he be late? Someone must be dead!

This post has been edited- for some reason, it posted the wrong version of it, not an updated version I wrote a few days after the original.





All in all, I'll never forget what happened 10 years ago. 20 years from now, something else will happen, and it will bring to mind where I was, and what I was doing on that horrible day, and I'll remember it just as clearly as I do now.

Tequila is a Life Saving Device

Today, Spouse, FIL, and myself ditched the kids and went to a movie and dinner. FIL only comes up from Retirement Land (AKA Florida) twice a year, and yeah, we get spoiled when he comes up. Always a movie and dinner one of the nights, and... um... a lot of other stuff. Like groceries. And if you were raising 3 kids (2 of which are teens), then you know just how much groceries can be.

As a group, we decided on seeing Contagion- the one with Gwyneth Paleskin looking kind of like death warmed over. Which is really kind of a good look for her, considering she's dead in most the movie. This movie is the wet dream of a germaphobe. Or a nightmare? On the one hand, they're gonna feel that their over re-action to the presence of germs was totally justified. On the other hand, they're probably gonna die of a heart attack at the thought of a germ touching their body.

So within the first 40 minutes or so, you kind of know what to expect. It's really hard for me to type this without blurting out a spoiler. Like GERMS DID IT! .....Of course, that's less of a spoiler if you've ever seen a trailer for the movie.

I digress. We saw a movie. It had germs. Some people died. Some people didn't. Paleskin did die. I feel comfortable in telling you that, since they totally blew that spoiler in the trailer as well. By the time we left, we were sure that certain death is awaiting us at every corner.

This movie should probably be avoided if you are already a germaphobe.

For dinner, we went to a local Mexican place that serves just fucking kick ass Mexican dishes. It's family owned, and the food is phenomenal. I am boring, and stick to one dish, but like I told Spouse- if I know I love it, and I want something I will eat, why not order it every time? I am not adventurous with food. I'm down right picky. I don't eat most "adult" foods. Give me a hot dog and Mac n Cheese any time.

Since we were there, and I didn't drive, I splurged (or, FIL did) on a Long Island Ice Tea. It tasted... off. It was a lot more clear than it should be. My best guess is that they favor the Tequila. A LOT. And this time, it wasn't even because I'm a weak ass drinker. Spouse tasted it, cringed, and said "Yeah, that's a stiff drink there."

I did 'choke' down most of it. After watering it down. And Pepsi-ing it down. And now? I'm feeling pretty fucking decent. With numb fingers, sure, but decent.

I told Spouse that they probably pumped it up with Tequila just with me in mind.

Why?

Because I was having a Germaphobe attack. I figured some form of meat from Mexico was pooped on by some random Donkey, and if it hadn't been for the Tequila, I was likely going to be Patient Zero, and I'd be spreading that shit like it's nobody's business.

The Tequila killed the germs from the inside out.

It's like the Tequila was a life saving device.

***This post was sponsored by all the tequila I drank, but wasn't paid for by anyone else. Well, except my FIL. Cause he bought me a kick ass drink. It tasted a lot better at the end.

Things That "Get My Goat"

Remember Peter's news show on Family Guy? He'd bitch about things that just bug him? Welcome to the Moron version.

M3 changed school buildings this year, but this particular event is in no way exclusive to the building she is in. Because of the debacle on the bus earlier this week, and the police being in my home, I have opted to drive her both two and from school this week.

Her building is massive. Picture a box with two long skinny legs. That's what her building looks like- a box shape on one end with the gyms, pool, and 2 cafeterias (this building is fairly new, but judging on how massive and over done it is, I often wonder if it didn't single handedly help close down the two lower El schools that have shut down since we moved here.) The legs contain class rooms, and in the middle like some odd knee surgery gone wrong, a library. Like a box with legs holding a ball in the middle at the knees. Yeah.

Anyway, buses go to one side of the building, and parents all park on the other side of the building when picking up little Debbie and Johnny. So here's what pisses me off. You know what? I'm gonna draw you a diagram first. Or two.

In Diagram A, you see that there is a line, and natural flow for picking children up from school. We all pull up along side the curb, and wait in line. Occasionally, if it's nice out, your child might seek your car out before you get to the main entrance to the building. In such a case, you wait until it's safe to pull out, and do so, then follow the flow of traffic around to the backside of the parking lot, and wait in turn to exit the parking lot.

Otherwise, you just wait in line till you are up front, collect your brat, and again, follow the flow of traffic.

 

 It's a waiting game. In order to be in the line that is actually at the curb, and not in the entrance or even road, you want to get there 15 minutes early. Being a bored house wife, I can do that. Maybe not if I did it every day, but I can handle the boredom for a few minutes. Being that the building is so massive, and they only let kids leave out the main entrance, it also can take a good 5 minutes after school lets out before kids start to trickle out of the building.

From there, if you are waiting in line diligently, it may be 2-3 minutes before enough cars pull out, that the line actually moves. There is usually the moron on her cell phone that doesn't pull ahead right away. Today, that moron was me. See? I own up to it.

All in all, if everyone just did as the laws of school pick up nature dictated, we'd be fine.

But no. That wouldn't provide for us a great post about the Morons of the School Parking Lot, would it?

Here in Diagram 2, you see that we have a sub-breed in the parking lot. These are the people who feel... shall we say above the laws of nature? These are the parents who were too busy to get to the school early, and in too much of a hurry to wait in line. 

They are the parents who whip in the lot, ignore the line, drive past all of us poor suckers waiting, and find a parking spot. They wait in the parking spot, or sometimes they get out, and head into the building (because, you know, it's impossible for a 4th grader to get out the door on his or her own). Sometimes, they stand in the parking lot, on a cell phone, waving frantically like a moron when their own little minion appears.

Often, they look exasperated, put out, and SICK OF IT ALL. Once they have located their child, they load said child into vehicle, hop in, back out into the line of traffic, and pull ahead. If they parked on the side not facing the curb, they immediately just drive to the end of the parking lot, and spend anywhere from 30 seconds to 5 minutes trying to cut into the line of traffic, looking more and more irate by the passing second.

The whole problem is that this sub-group of people feel that they shouldn't have to wait in line at all. Never mind that there are dozens of patient soles who have, or that there are signs posted all over imploring us to pull up to the curb to both pick up and drop your children off, then follow to the back and exit the parking lot.

These signs are not for them. No. These signs are for the general masses, of which they are far too important to be included in.

And I haven't even touched on the sub-group in the morning. So, let's do that, shall we? Twist my arm harder. Hard- ok, ok, I'll just tell you.

The morning works much the same, without the long wait. You pull up to the curb, usually with a group of only 3-4 other cars, drop your kid off as soon as you are in the "yellow" loading and unloading zone, then wait while all the cars in front do the same, and you pull out together.

But there's always that 1 person.... they pull up into the yellow zone, which is maybe 5 car lengths in total, and they wait until they are in the very front, 5 feet from the door, before precious little Susy can be let out of the car.

In the lower El classes, it was worse. This sub group would wait until they were at the front, then get OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR to help little Adam and Betty out of the car, all the while stopping to chat with all the other mommy's they see, with their doors wide open, so no one could get around them.

I haven't noticed that yet at the new school, but the waiting thing? Oh yeah. I can understand if it's pouring out. Or if we have a wind chill of like -20. But why in the love of God can't your child walk up to the doors an extra 5 feet like my child can? Is it imperative that your child be saved that itty bitty little walk?

If you have ever been that mom who drives their kids to school, then you've witnessed this behavior. It isn't exclusive to our small community, though it does change depending on the lay out of the school, and how people park. For instance, at the Ele M1 went to, there was only street parking for parents. There was no line. You just got there early enough not to have to park 4 blocks down.

If you have ever been the moron who cuts in the line, and thinks it's all right? Rest assured, 40 other moms are currently bitching about you in their cars, and getting exasperated that they were ever taught to follow the rules.

It's called Etiquette. Get some.

How My Day Sucked Ass

Yesterday, I had my 3 month Pain Clinic appointment. I go 4 times a year to re-evaluate my pain levels, and get some stuff shot into my upper neck. I have arthritis, a bone spur, and bulging discs- all in the exact same C-Spine section. The shots aren't fun, but normally, I am not aware of what is going on when it happens.

They bring me into a room, they shoot me full of Versed (Versed is a fast acting, short term drug used for sedation before medical procedures- often used for dentist visits, for example). While not unconscious, you are completely out of it, and typically don't feel or remember anything about the procedure.

When I went 3 months ago, I became aware of what was going on when it started, but I was out of it enough that all I was really doing was moaning (I. Know.). I had no big clue on how long it took, just that I felt it.

I mentioned yesterday that I would like them to up the Versed, because I felt what was going on last time. We've been toying with the Versed level since I started- the first time I went, I had so much that I slept for 12 straight hours. Oops! We've been bringing the levels down ever since, trying to find a comfortable range. Well, I told him, we surpassed that range, time to dial it back.

When I went in, I even mentioned to the anesthesiologist, asking if he knew I needed a higher dose this time. Yep, no problem. He administered it, I laid down and started counting silently. I like to see how far I can get. I realized suddenly after a few minutes, that I was hearing and understanding conversation around me, so of course, I joined in. I don't know if I did so coherently, but at that point, I realized I have never heard or participated in a conversation.

I asked if I should be as lucid as I was- which wasn't to say I was lucid enough to walk or drive, but I was extremely aware of my surroundings. They said give it another minute. I asked again, and the guy in there said I must be out of it, I was repeating myself. Well... no, I was asking again, because I was getting a bit uneasy.

Anyway, doc came in, and I talked to him, asked him about the versed, but he just started the procedure.

O.

M.

F.

G.

You know that scene in The Mummy, where the girl describes the process of mummification? Where you take a red hot poker, jam it up the nose, wiggle it about, and pull out liquified brains?

I'm almost dead certain that's what they tried doing to the back of my skull. Except they stabbed me at least 8 times, and I was just laying there sobbing. I was in tears. I talked with the doctor right after he finished and asked him to mark down in my file that I needed a LOT more versed last time. This time, it was more like they went with less, not more, than last time.

It was horrible. I did manage to sleep the entire drive home, which is just over an hour. I came prepared- PJ pants, a sweat shirt (it got COLD this week in Michigan, ya'll- like 46 degrees! WTH!), and a pillow. Then I kept on sleeping for a bit when I arrived home.

You'd think that would be enough ways that my day could suck, right?

Not so fucking much.

Today was the first day of school. Much celebrating and cheap wine drinking to be had in the Nonamus household. By us, not the minions.

Because of extreme budget cuts, schools were shut down, changed around, and all sorts of chaos ensued. M3 got changed to a new building, and with it, a new bus stop. Normally, I drive her to school in the morning- it gives us time together, and let's face it, I don't have to wait outside in the damn rain or snow for a fucking bus 3 blocks from my house with a bunch of random ass strangers I don't want to talk with.

I found out late last week that with the changes came a bus route change, and a change of bus stop location. FIL and I drove her to school, showed her the place her bus would drop her off, and very explicitly explained street corners, places near by, and what route to take when she got home- because my ass was planning to be in a vegetative state after school.

Being the first day, and the bus routes all changing, I knew there were going to be some delays. Last year, her school let out at 3:45, and she was off the bus at 4:05. This year, they added a "new" school by putting 4-5 graders in the Middle School and calling them Upper Elementary kids. They keep the same hours as the Ele kids, but because all bus routes now have to deliver kids to the Lower and Upper schools, starting times have changed a bit.

Upper El starts at the same time as last year- 8:45. Lower El moved up and starts at 9, giving the buses a chance to drop the older kids off, then go across town to one of two lower el's, and drop the K-3 kids off.

Same thing in the afternoon- Upper El is 3:45, Lower El is 4- that means that at 4, she won't even have started the actual bus route yet. I know in the morning, they're one of the last stops, so I was figuring around 4:30.

When M1 got home at 4:25, I sent her over to the new bus stop to wait for M3. 5:10, she came home- no bus yet. I called the bus garage- yes, they are running late, but she couldn't get the driver on the intercom, so she didn't know how far behind.

5:25, M2 comes in the bedroom. Where I am half asleep, and strutting my STUFF in a ratty old Strawberry Shortcake shirt, and fleece Zebra print pants, and tells me someone is here with Gilly. Oooooh shit. Fine, ok, I high tail it out of bed, and come out to find WHO in my messy ass dining room?

Mr. Police Officer. 

 

M3 heard from another kid that said kid lives by specific park. M3 followed said kid off said bus, no where near said park. The parents let her come in, tried to call but M3 claimed no knowledge of our phone number. -sigh- She has a rotten memory. She's almost 10, and yes, she can't recite her damn number. Or address. Apparently.

Fuck me raw right now. Here I am, looking drugged out (cause I was) in my fucking PJ's, with the police bringing my kid home, because she didn't know where the hell she lives. Cue social services knocking on the door in 3... 2... 1....

I did explain that I normally would have met her at the bus stop, but that I was unable to drive due to a medical procedure that resulted in me being sedated. I also slipped in there to M3 that I had called a few times trying to find her, and that I wasn't worried yet, because the bus garage just kept saying they were running late.

I wish I could say this is the worst bus incident we've had. It's not. 2 years ago, when we first started getting bussed (again, due to a school 2 fucking blocks from our front door closing), we were some how assigned 2 different locations- one for the AM, one for the PM in 2nd grade.

The morning stop was actually a 7 block walk from our house. WTH? She actually had to walk further to the bus stop, than what is allowed at the Ele level for kids who walk to school. It was a .75 mile walk. If you live more than .5 miles from your assigned Ele school, you are not allowed to walk, you have to ride a bus.

The afternoon bus stop was a lot closer, but still not close. Day 1 was epic fail all around- I mixed up the locations, and waited to no avail at the afternoon stop in the morning, then we had to RUN home, and break every speed limit drive to school.

That afternoon, I wasn't sure which stop she would get, so I used my car, parked at the one I figured it would be, and waited. Then when there was no bus like 30 minutes after the scheduled time, I called, and ultimately wound up chasing the bus around because the garage thought she was going to the other stop- chased the bus there, she didn't get off, turned around, and chased it back to the other stop, where she got off- without a parent there.

Funny side note- kids 8 and under are required to have a parent, guardian, or responsible adult visible at the bus stop, or they won't let the child off. I was in my car half a block away when M3 came skipping off the bus (at age 7).

Cut to the next day. We drove to the morning bus stop because we were late. No big deal. In the afternoon, M2 and I walked to the afternoon stop. Bus rolls up. Kid leans out the window to tell me that M3 got off at the wrong stop. I was like, no.... Walked up, asked the driver, then BITCHED HER THE FUCK OUT- she let M3 off the bus at the wrong stop, without a parent there, REALIZED IT, tried to call her back, then FUCKING DROVE OFF.

FUCKING DROVE OFF.

She didn't call it in. She didn't try to get a hold of me. She didn't wait at the stop for someone else to help her get M3 back on the bus (she is not allowed to leave a bus with children in it- I understand that, but there were like 5 parents standing there who could have caught M3). She watched M3 wander off, then drove off.

I was livid, BUT, it was her morning stop, and it's just off the road we live on and walked on a weekly basis all summer. I sent M2 home in case she was there, then walked towards where the other stop was, while leaving a nasty message for the bus garage.

I was pissed, but I totally figured I would run into M3 on the way- no harm. Uh... except I didn't. She wasn't -anywhere-. By the time I realized that, I had no idea what to do. Some other parents started helping me look. I called the bus garaged, BITCHED them the FUCK out, and told them in no uncertain terms that I WOULD NOT FUCKING HOLD UNTIL THEY FOUND MY KID.

The receptionist was -very- helpful. She came back a moment later and said, "OH, she was dropped at the wrong stop, but should be there waiting." I asked her just where that was, because I was already at the wrong stop, and she wasn't there. I spent 5 minutes arguing with the main guy in charge before I said I was calling the police and hung up on his ass. He was BLAMING ME for the entire mess.

-I- should have told her which stop to get off at.
-I- should have been waiting at the wrong stop.
-I- should not get in trouble for ripping his ass out with my hand down his throat.

By now, there were at least 5 or 6 cars driving around. There were 20+ people wandering the nearby streets AND flagging down cars to look. The police showed up. 2 different neighbors of mine were out on their motorcycles looking. I was trying hard to keep it together.

This all happened maybe 2 weeks after Jaycee Dugard was found, having disappeared when some creep scooped her up off the streets on her way to school. To say I was about to lose it was an understatement.

As the police were posting a bulletin, and getting ready to do an all out Amber Alert, someone I had never met drove up and said she found my daughter (didn't even know she was missing) and brought her home- all because her son knew she was my son's sister, and no where near home.

She was found over 10 blocks on the other side of town, across a large, busy 4 lane road. She kept walking, waiting to find the railroad tracks near our house.

About this time, the superintendent of the bus garage rolled up, and asked if I wanted a ride home. I very politely told him that I would be calling in a day or two to discuss what happened, and how we would deal with it, then I allowed the police to take me home.

When I finally did talk to the bus garage, I only sorted out the bus route details first. Very calmly. Found out she was routed on the wrong bus, and that they never let kids ride a bus that requires that they walk across rail road tracks to get there. Her bus stop was moved to not even a 2 block walk down the road.

Once that was done, I very calmly asked him if he had heard about Jaycee Dugard. Or any of the other millions of kids who go missing all the time. Or of the pedophiles who attack little kids. Or if he had ever taken the time to explain his own rules to his drivers.

What went wrong?

• Before school even started, they didn't even look at a map to verify where kids should be getting on and off the bus at. 
• The driver did not stop to verify who any of these kids were, during the first week of school, when there is a lot of confusion.
• The driver did not stop to verify that a parent or adult was there to pick the child up off the bus.
• The driver did not verify that they were even getting off at the right stop.
• The driver did not notify the bus garage of anything, or call for help when it happened.
• The driver drove off, knowingly leaving a 7 year old several blocks from her home, with no adult. 

I told him in no uncertain terms that if they ever did it again, I would be first in line to sue the driver personally, himself personally, and the school for hiring two such idiots. 

The super is lucky the police were there when he rolled up asking if I'd like to take a ride home and discuss the busing. Had they not been, I think I'd have beat his fucking ass in.



Holy fuck. LONG ASS POST, much? At least comment, so I know ya'll read it. Please?

Monday's Words of Wisdom - On Tuesday

 I can't be late on my first day of school. Do you know what happens to people when they're late on their first day? - Rory Gilmore


Their day is shorter? - Loerlai Gilmore

In honor of my back to school celebration! The kids are gone, the kids are gone, AMEN the kids are GONE! Yes, I'm a day late. But, the quote.. it was perfect for today.

Besides, yesterday I was looped out of my ever loving mind on Versed after effects. And ginormous needles in my SKULL. Hopefully, I thought ahead, and Vlogged that shit.

Real Conversations: Niece Edition

My gorgeous niece is starting collage this fall. I hate to think I'm old enough to have a niece starting college, but whatever.

Niece the First: Dude. I am so addicted to your blog, Because You're a Moron. I read it Religiously.

Me: I'm like crack. Only cheaper.

When Spouse read that, he said I totally should have said "I'm Like a Crack Whore. Only Cheaper." But then I pointed out that it was a tad verbose, and to shorten it, I could just say "I'm like a <insert Spouse's skeezy sister's name here>. Only cheaper." He agreed that it would have meant the same thing- only, not everyone would get it.

Spouse & Sense Of Direction

So, for as long as we've known each other, Spouse has had the worst sense of direction. I'm talking getting lost on a straight shot from point A to B. He's just that bad. When we first met, I moved about 90 minutes north to where he grew up and lived.

In under a month, I could find my way around his hometown better than he could. Cause I have a fantastic sense of direction. And, obviously, he doesn't.

When we moved to our current town, it took him more than 6 months to be able to find the local grocery store on his own. Once you leave our driveway, you turn twice, and wind up at it. Impossible to miss.

Friday night, Spouse's dad met him at work, and they went out for drinks afterwards. My FIL lives in FL now, so we only see him twice a year. However, he grew up here, and lived here well into his 50's. His routine is to have me drive Spouse to work on Friday, then he picks him up when he gets to town, and they enjoy a few hours at the sports bar near Spouse's office, which is 35 minutes away.

At 7, he texted me that they were heading home, and stopping to grab me something to eat. I was in the bath tub marinating with a massive sinus headache, or maybe I'd have been more aware of the passing of time.

At 8, I looked at my phone and realized they weren't here yet, but my phone gets jack for reception in the bathroom, so I couldn't text them.

At 8:25, Spouse comes strolling into the bathroom. When asked what happened, he said they got lost.

Now, if Spouse were driving, I'd totally understand. He can't deviate from his set path -at all- without being on the phone with me directing him the entire time. This includes if there are detours, and every car in front of him is LEADING him the right way.

Turns out, they had to pee- it's an old man thing, I guess. And also the 2 pitchers of beer. They got off the highway 1 exit before ours. Yes, just 1. They went into McDonalds. They came out, they drove off, blissfully unaware of the fact that they were on a completely different road, and ignoring the fact that the highway is RIGHT EXACTLY THE FUCK THERE!

Spouse, in all his directional wisdom, said, "Well, if we just drive down this road, it comes out in Our Town."

Yes, it would. Had he been on THAT road. Personally, I'm rather impressed that he even knew that much. But, I digress. They followed that road. You know, the wrong one. They came to a dead end. At this point, one would just presume that the easiest course of action would be to TURN THE FUCK AROUND and go BACK where you came from. Wind up at McDonalds. Spy the GINORMOUS FUCKING HIGHWAY, and be on your merry way.

But that's not the manly way to do things. Or the beer soaked. Whatever. Instead, they turned left. Then left again. Before they knew it, they wound up in a town South East of us. Where they got off the highway? North West of us.

How they managed to circle right around there, is beyond me. They wound up getting on the highway almost back by Spouse's office. And that's how they wound up taking a 90 minute drive home.

Yes, I've mocked them relentlessly. I mean- they were 2 miles from home. 5 minutes down the road- not once, but twice. The second town they found? 5 minutes down the road in a different direction. Did they come this way? No, they kept going till they found a highway.

Personally, I'm amazed they didn't wind up in Ontario by way of the Detroit bridge. Which is only a 5 hour drive from us. And they even had a TomTom navigational system sitting in the trunk, unused. WTG, boys!

At least they wanted to get me food in town, so it was warm.

Hey, Dumbass!

You have a pain clinic appointment on the 6th to get shot in the head. Call and find out the time, and arrange for a ride.

....this is totally for me, not you, so stop being so snoopy. I NEVER remember these appointments, because A) they give you the time and date of your next appointment WHILE you are looped out of your mind on versed, and B) they NEVER do reminder calls.

However, I've missed 2 appointments because of their stupid way of doing things, and if I miss a 3rd, they will CUT ME OFF!!

I have arthritis in my C-spine. In conjunction with that, I have a bone spur on the same portion of spine, but on the opposite side from where the arthritis is. This causes the disc in between to bulge. So, it's a big mess of issues.

Prescribed cure? They stick a ginormous (it is too a word! If you don't believe me, check out the damn dictionary, AKA, the movie ELF) needle IN MY HEAD!!!! Then, they shoot me up with all sorts of stuff to stave off the stiffness and pain, which is pretty much constant. Keeps me off the Vicodin. Unless it's not working, then I pop that shit at night before bed, so I can lay down. Cause it's really uncomfortable.

Back issues run in the family. M1 loves to laugh her ass off at me when I'm in pain. I smile and point out that she's witnessing her inheritance first hand. HA! Suck it, kid!