Reunited...and it feels so good...

God, I loves me some Peaches and Herb!
So I used to have this boyfriend...his name was Gym. We dated for about a year. It was an awesome time...we saw each other 3-5 times a week...never really overdoing it, it was nice. He made me feel like I hadn't felt in such a long time. Just good all over, yo. And things were amazing. Then, I started to get all "I don't know if this is going to work out..." and then it started to feel like he was almost suffocating me...with his "Be here Mon, Wed, and Fri at 5:15...don't be late...no one likes a late girl..." I mean, for a year, I followed his every word...but then it hit me...I didn't think I needed him.
At first, I only cheated on him...you know...I would be all bitchy and not show up at his place for like a week...and honestly, when I would roll back in there...he would be alright. I mean, he was a little tough on me, but nothing I couldn't handle...but then, it was over. I just couldn't keep up with him any longer...he was all cool...I mean, he called a couple of times to see where I was...if I was ok, but life went on.
Well...I tried to find a suitable replacement for him. But really, nothing compares to Gym. I spent a lot of nights walking...and that helped me a little bit, but I need him.
So...I am slinking back to him on Wednesday. I talked to him already about this...he is fine with things. We can just pick up where we left off. I just couldn't find a better deal than him...we go at it hard and heavy for an hour, 3-5 times/week (I decide how often...) When it is over? He doesn't cuddle or want to spoon...and he even lets me shower at his place. What was I thinking trying to leave him? This man is a keeper!!

My son is an ass man

It has been determined that Big is an ass man.
I have determined this...and while it makes him mad that I even say ASS, it is true.

When he was in 3rd grade, I had to break it to him gently that he wouldn't be able to sing in the 3rd grade talent show. After much discussion, I promised him that he would thank me someday, when he was older, and someones mom busted out the 3rd grade talent show video and he was embarrassed beyond belief. The song he wanted to sing? Fat Bottomed Girls. Yes. Everyone loves a good Queen song in the 3rd grade! This is argument #1 that he is an ass man.

Argument #2 is that he will randomly bust out with the lyrics to "Baby got back" And by lyrics, I mean "I like big butts and I cannot lie..." Yep. That is my ass man.

Argument # 3 came last night when on the radio came the song with the lines " she turned around and gave that big booty a slap." What is with the ass lyrics?

I guess being an ass man in the 4th grade is about all you can be. I mean...there are not a lot of "racks" to look at. We'll see how this progresses.

conversations with a 10 year old

Last night, our ride home from the mall was hilarious.

The radio was playing some current hip hop/pop song...and we were singing along...here is where the hilarity ensued.

Song: Shorty (*I am certain I am not spelling this right...but whatev.) got Low Low Low Low Low Low (and a bunch more Lows)

Me: Who IS this SHORTY that everyone is singing about?

Big: I think it is the new slang for 'home skillet' or girlfriend.

Me: Home skillet?

Big: Mom. You know..."my home skillet"

Me: (pretending I have no idea) No baby, I don't know your HOME skillet.

Big: You need to get hip, fo shiz. (I am pretty sure fo shiz is no longer cool, but I don't want to split hairs with him...)

Me: Baby...if you keep talking like that, you will find yourself in Catholic school faster than you can say 'fo shizzle my nizzle'

Big: *groan...mom...we are not CATHOLIC.

Me: We'll we're NOT ghetto, either.

Big: We're more ghetto than we are Catholic.

He has a point.

can you kill your kids and NOT get coal for Christmas?

Completely a rhetorical question...put the phone down, no one needs to call CYS!

I have had a headache for about 2 days. It is 10pm. The boys are no closer to bed than they were 4 hours ago. Things are banging. I don't know if ANYONE has clean clothes to wear. And guess what? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Hahahaha.
Yep. Here I sit...typing random thoughts out into the internet, while my kids and the dog play freeze tag in the upstairs hall. Uhm. We have hardwood floors and that hurts my head. And. Really? Is there still another WEEK before Christmas? Fuck it. I am celebrating this weekend...then taking a week long vacation!
Want to hear my latest thought. I want to go somewhere that it has just snowed...about a foot of fresh, fluffy snow. There is a fire in the fire place, tea in a mug on the table, a blanket and a good book. I am there, of course...because it is my thought. Sometimes, I am alone. Sometimes my friends are there. Sometimes there is a man there, who loves me the way I love him. Most of the time, my head just hurts!
If this doesn't work out...I can totally get on board with the beach. Either way, I don't care!

Something to believe in

I am fresh from therapy. And I know that I have an unusual crush on her...not so much a crush as much as a adoration, but still.
I have been sad lately. Just sad. Not angry. Not mad. Just sad. Sad because I have said in my head, that I won't do anything at all until after the holiday. I won't argue. I won't think about it. I will just go about my day and night...not worrying not doing anything. Well. Recently, I have realized that once Christmas passes, I am going to have to face things. Maybe, I guess.

I also realized that I am sad because I have nothing to look forward to. Nothing. Friends have fallen by the way...partially/mostly my fault. Football is over. I don't have anything going on. Nothing. So. I need to get something going on. I have time. I need to find something to focus on and do. I am looking at taking a class to learn to knit. I mentioned it to a friend and found that she would also be interested in this. I also called the gym. I can join back up any time. John was so nice. No restart fee, just start paying the monthly fee, like I never left. I am hoping that this will do it for me. Help me keep my mind off of whatever is going on.

a combo...yesterday...and today

Yesterday was our department Christmas (Holiday) Party...it started at 5. We left work at 3...to get a jump start on the party part. It was fun. Incidentally, we went to a nearby bar for happy hour...and laughed and giggled and laughed some more...then it was off to the party. It was at the Doubletree hotel. Nice place. The food was a little odd, though. There was a choice of fish, turkey, or pork, all done in a similar cream sauce. There was also squash soup. This caused a bit of arguing. Is squash soup more of a "fall type soup" or is it year round? Anywhooo...the party was bordering on lame, but the people were fun to watch. Apparently, nothing says "Holiday party" quite like a sweater and no pants. Ok. Yes. The sweater kept your lady parts covered. But really, it was touch and go. And...it wasn't just one, no sir...it was 3. There were 3 girls running around without pants on. One had to wonder, where was management? Did these 3 girls, all under the age of 24, call each other and confirm that none of them would be wearing pants? How did that conversation go? Was a pair of pants packed in a bag, left in the car, just in case someone else, God forbid, WORE pants? Anyway...back to the party.
We could register for "door prizes" and I am always one to register for the prizes that look like they have the least amount of tickets in for them. This has often backfired on me...but really...free is free, right? Well...last night? I won a shop vac. Yes. I will let that settle on you for a moment, A SHOP. VAC. Yep. My biggest complaint about that? How was I going to get it to my car? (I have already fired that bitch up today...hohoho!)
After the party broke up, some of us went to another near by bar...and I have a confession. I went. And I hung out with a friend that I haven't hung out with in a long time. We had just fallen out of touch. Last night, we spent the time laughing and getting caught up...and while it isn't exactly the same, I am glad that we are getting on the right track. I missed her. So. There was a lot a lot of laughing. A LOT! I did get to see our friend Dianne's boobs...as did some other man at the bar. She had them done years ago and they look amazing. Apparently, the man thought so too, and bought us all shots. Boobs for shots? Not a bad deal. It is here that I need to say that the entire night, I had one shot, a washington apple, which frankly, I could have drank all night. And 2 vanilla vodka/diet pepsi combos. So. I was not loaded. We move along to the next bar, where my friend Big Joe is turning 46. Holy shit, btw. He looks more like 56. I didn't tell him that, though...
I hate to sensor the rest of this, but right now I am still coming to terms with it. Maybe I'll expand on that later...

All I want for Christmas...

So...last night we did the marathon Christmas thing. We took the boys to see Santa and then went and picked out our Christmas tree. Lord have mercy. It went a little like this:

Santa: Ho Ho Ho boys...what do you want for Christmas?

Big: A Wii.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho that is nice...a Wii. Well have you been good?

Big: I have. (pointing to his brother) HE hasn't.

Little: Yes I have!

Big: No sir. You're bad.

Me: OK BOYS. SANTA REALLY IS WATCHING

Santa: (looking at Little) How about you? What do you want for Christmas?

Little: A trailer with a room for my mom and a room for my dad and a room for the dog and all the rooms should have flat screen TVs and the trailer should be able to connect to my bike and I want it to be blue. (and...please refer to the top of this post for what he is actually asking for...)

Santa: Well...Ho Ho Ho...that sounds nice...were you a good boy?

It is at this point I realize, Santa is deaf. That motherfucker can't hear anything my kids have said. I mean, cause really? My kid asks for a TRAILER and you say "that sounds nice?" How about some help here? How about...HO HO HOW am I going to wrap that bitch? Or Ho Ho where would Rudolph put it? Instead he says THAT SOUNDS NICE? No. It doesn't. Thanks.

AND. If he COULD hear, he wouldn't have asked if Little was a good boy. Big just got done telling Santa that Little wasn't good. Shit man. LISTEN.

And so it went...Big, convinced that he is getting the Wii. He is. Little, convinced that Santa could see it in his deaf little heart to bring him a trailer...a $2ok trailer. I guess that could be considered foresight, since we probably will be homeless at some point.

Boot Etiquette, too little, too late.

Yes...I suppose this is too little, too late. I mean, if I am mentioning it...I am seeing it...and if I am seeing it, you know full well I am commenting on it.
Why OH why does the boot wearing public feel as though they can just make up rules? Seriously? Do you drive on the wrong side of the road? No. Why wear ankle boots with your mini skirt? Jesus.
So. here we go...some observations...take heed, it ain't purty.
(this list will be a work in progress...I am afraid.)

• Never. Never. Do I want to see that much leg. Seriously. If your boot hits you mid calf, your skirt damn well better too. The pencil skirt is the only exception to this rule.
• Red/Pink tights with a black mini skirt and black calf boots? Not a look for anyone other than MAYBE an Olsen. MAYBE.
• Cowboy boots? With a brown corduroy mini skirt and a brown sweater? Hey Britney, this isn't the farm...put those things AWAY. Cowboy boots...that is a good one.
• And you...in the boots over there...are those SPURS? (closer observation concluded that they were NOT spurs, just a chain going behind the ankle. Take those off and throw them away. Thank you.
• If it is indeed time to rock the boot/sweater combo, you can bet your sweet ass it is cold enough to WEAR stockings. WTF are you thinking? Oh. I know...you were distracted by how BADASS your tattoo looked coming out of the right one? Yeah. Badass. Fo-shiz. Seriously, put some tights on and a longer skirt.
• I cannot get on board with the riding boots/skirt thing. I know that there are some skirts that look nice with a pair of riding boots, however, the one I saw today was not one of those.

I expect that this will continue to grow...seeing as this is only a day and a half worth of observations. Hang on...it will get better!

Advice...PLEASE!

I know not so many people read this...but if for some reason, you happen upon this...I need and want your 2 cents!

I have been a member of a gym for a little more than a year. I was a faithful attendant. I took an exercise class...called Body Pump. It was a weight training class, you can google it if you so desire...anyway...I loved the class. I would go on my way home from work. I have gotten WAY out of the routine and have not been there in an embarrassingly long time.

The question is...I have come into some $. Not a lot, please...but enough to join the gym and be able to pay the membership fee in full for the year....I am just afraid that I won't be dedicated to this. I have lost all of the weight I want to lose. I am certain that I can tone some more. I just don't know what to do. I could plunk that $ on a bill and be done with it.

So...I leave it to you, random internet folk...and you, not so random internet folk!
Leave a comment...tell me what to do...spank me if you must...

A funny thing happened on the way to crazy...

I like to cook! OMG! I know...who would believe it? Certainly not me! But I do! I really seem to like to cook. I discussed it with my shrink yesterday...and despite her concern that I am "over functioning" (is that even something that a mom who works full time and then takes care of every fucking thing in our house...can do?) I really like to cook. Yes. I have only cooked 3 meals in the last week...but they were 3 really good meals. I am looking forward to the weekend, where I will be attempting spaghetti sauce. I have been hitting allrecipes.com pretty hard, that is where I got the recipe for the stuffed pepper soup and the beef stew, and they were both so good! We'll go with it, til it gives me reason not to.

I had a great little meeting with the shrink. We'll discuss the over functioning another time.

I did get a disturbing call from one of Big's friend's mother. We'll call the friend Sweetpea, because I love her! She is 11 and so sweet and nice and pleasant...and a girl...and I don't have one, so I sometimes think about stealing her...but that is for another time, too. Apparently, there is a girl who is bullying her. Bullying is so wrong on so many levels...but when it is someone that I know...and love...it makes me sad. Her mom is probably going about this all wrong. I don't know what I would do, so I can't say, but it makes me sad that she is being bullied. We are going out to dinner tonight...for report cards and awards and good behavior...so I asked if she could go along. I know that won't make a difference in the bullying, but maybe it will make her smile for a while!

And...once again, I was sidetracked. I started to say how I like to cook...and was going to proceed on to declaring that I would be cleaning the attic and trying to set up the sewing machine. I know. I know. I should have warned you...but I guess I am looking for activities to keep me busy...and these are not harmful....I guess it beats the self destructive bar behavior that I could be indulging in. We'll see...maybe not!

I wish I may...I wish I might...

Have something interesting to say today!
But I don't!
I had an odd ride into work...2 tractor trailer trucks pulled out in front of me...to be fair, only 1 pulled out in front of me...the one behind it just kept coming through the stop sign. Incidentally, I didn't HAVE a stop sign...but whatever. I couldn't flip them off, because I was balancing my makeup precariously with one hand.

Last night, I watched CSI: NY. Can you say disappointed? Mac Taylor...you let me down. I have been on the edge of my seat with this whole 333 thing. The blood on the tee shirt...the phone calls...and then that is how it ended? I love you, so I can forgive you...but maybe we can discuss a better plot?

Tonight is going to be a busy one...the boys have play practice at church, I have therapy, Big has basketball practice. so 5-6, 6-7, and 8-9. Busy bees at casa de crazy!

The Apple...

Doesn't fall far from the tree!

Look at him with his Starbucks! So grown up. Yeah, it was Hot Cocoa...but still!

Good things on the horizon...

Recent conversation with Big:

Big: "Mom! Hulk Hogan is getting divorced!"

Me: "Really? Hmm...does that mean he is on the market?"

Big: "Yeah! You mean, he could be my DAD?"

Me: "Sure...I mean...a few things have to happen, but I don't see why not...go tell your dad."

Big...running upstairs...: "Daddy...Mom said that Hulk Hogan is going to be my new dad."

Dad: "I wish him all the luck in the world."

Me: "I HEARD THAT!"

Big: "Let's discuss what my new room will look like. Do you think we will move to Florida, or will he come here? AND Oh MY GOSH! Will he introduce me to Andre the Giant?"

Me: "Baby...we can have him over for Christmas, if you would like..."

Big: "Uhm...no...he is dead, I think."

So much for that...but I do see this as helpful information in the future...maybe if and when things do end here...as long as I can provide an acceptable substitute, one who has cool friends and big houses, the kids won't be so sad?
A girl can dream!

A nubbinectomy

Never a dull moment here at casa de crazy. Let me bring you up to speed. Big has had a bump on his lip for about a month now. He bites it and it bleeds and it has doubled in size over the last few days. At this rate, I am going to have to start packing it a lunch...so, at the urging of every relative with a pulse, I made an appt to take him to the pediatrician. Don't get me started on the fact that I had to take him. Because honestly, YOU DON'T WANT TO GO THERE. So. I pick Big AND Little up at my in laws...and off we go. I figure the doctor will stick something in it and drain all the shit out. Yeah. Not so much. The doctor is perplexed. Never a good thing. She says, I'll be right back...and leaves. Leaves me alone with the wiggle brothers. Seriously. She does come back...and says, "I ran across the hall to the ENT and he would like to take a look..." Ok. We are off to another $25 co pay, I mean doctor. The ENT was nice enough to squeeze us in. He is also nice enough to employ 2 of the most crotchety old ladies in the world. Thanks for that. While he was willing to see us on short notice, the women were hell bent on making sure I was aware of how NICE they were being by seeing me on such short notice. Thanks...but to be honest? I didn't want to be there. I didn't think it was anything more than a bump. One that I would be more than happy to lop off in the living room with a butcher knife and some waxed paper. (Remind me to tell you about the time I used dental floss to remove a skin tag from my neck. Not my proudest moment.) Anyway...the crotchety sisters were in the middle of a contest to see who could be meaner. Frankly, the nurse won. Finally, we see the good doctor. Who informs me, that in his 25 years of practice, he has never seen anything like this. I totally felt like I was in the middle of the Friends episode where the doctors gather around Ross' butt to look at his nubbin. Anywhooo...he pokes and squeezes and pulls...and looks in Big's ears, nose, and wait for it...THROAT...which I didn't follow, but whatever...he is the ENT, I think it is a habit.
Long about 2 1/2 hours later, we were scheduled for surgery! Yes. Surgery. On something that we don't actually know what is. It is just an odd bump that Big managed to make bigger by biting and splitting open while playing football and wrestling...Yeah. So. Next Wed? I get to sit in for a nubbinectomy. Maybe they'll let us keep it?! You know, take it home in a jar! Like tonsils?

ramble

I don't know if I will publish this...but I have to get it out.
Today was quite possibly the hardest day of my life....ok. I exaggerate. Whatever. I was in the house with my husband, 2 boys, and the dog. Last night, C went out with his sister...and then promptly slept until 1030...which he also did yesterday? as well. Fine. Whatever. But...all day, no all weekend, I did laundry, cooked, and cleaned. While he did nothing. Nothing. Just sat here or there and watched tv. Not even sports, but ridic family channel shows or fucking fox news. And the laughter? OMG. He laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. SHUT THE FUCK UP. Then, there was the time I was sitting on the couch, you know, in between loads of laundry...and he came and sat right down next to me. "Watch this movie with me, you'll love it." Uhm...no. Support your local sheriff has been on a million times...and I have no desire to watch. Maybe I will die incomplete, but that is the chance I am willing to take. I just don't get it. I know that I have fallen out of love with him...the big question is, can I fall back in love with him? Because, make no mistake, right now? I am not even trying. Absolutely everything is annoying me right now. Everything. From the fact that he hasn't taken notice that I have done every domestic chore there is...and cooked 2 very good meals...I think I might have gotten a "this is really good" yesterday...but nothing today. He just doesn't seem to be a man who is working on getting things back on track. What do I want him to do? I don't know...but clearly what he is doing isn't working.
I have therapy on Thursday. We haven't had it together in 2 weeks. I almost don't care. I know I have to get through the holidays and then what?
I can't see the future through all of this shit...I cannot see us living together, growing old...but I have not been able to picture us living apart either. I don't know...I so wish that I did...I wish that I could snap my finger and love him again. I wish that this wasn't my fault. I wish that it would be easy on my kids and on him. I don't want to hurt him...is it worse to pretend things are ok and carry on...with the potential of doing something that I won't be able to take back? Or to just end it? I have no idea.
I hate these feelings. I try so hard to make them go away...but sometimes I feel like he is working in the opposite direction...doing things to make them surface.
I want to eat. I want to eat a lot...I noticed it today...when I reached for some pretzels...I wasn't the least bit hungry. But eating is a comfort. I haven't come far enough along to move past the eating as a comfort thing...so I have to watch it...keep it in check. I don't want to gain that weight back. I just don't. So...more worry.
Ok...so I will post this...but probably delete it...

Sunday...

Just when I thought the laundry was finished...I get to start it all over again!
Yay! I was afraid that I would be bored today...but I will wash sheets and bedding...and maybe MAYBE tackle the attic.
C and the stinky sister in law went out last night...they got home around 230. I hope that he got to talk to her about whatever he wanted to talk about. I hope that he feels better about some things...I don't know. I can't imagine her giving any solid advice, though...seeing that in the 15 years I have been in this family, I have NEVER met one of her boyfriends. I don't even know that she has had that many...but never met one. That is 15 years worth of Christmas' and New Years' and Thanksgivings and Easters...nothing. Nada. So...I hope that he takes her advice with a grain of salt.
He is still sleeping. I am allowing it, because I know when I go out and get all liquored up, I appreciate being able to sleep it off. It doesn't usually happen...but you know...a girl can dream!
I have become addicted to Webkinz. Both boys have one...Little likes to spend his kinz cash as soon as he gets it...so I like to earn him some...at least that is what I say, as I log in to the cash cow! I have a personal top score that earned me 78 kinz cash. Not bad?! I am sure that he spent it already, though!
I am going to shop online for some Christmas presents...maybe pay a bill or two...
Enjoy the day!

a big bowl of nothing.

That is what I have for today!
I spent the day pulling a June Cleaver. Cleaned. Washed clothes. Cooked. Fuck me, I'm domestic!

I made the most delicious Stuffed Pepper Soup...No shit! I really did! But, when I doubled the recipe...it seemed to actually triple the damn thing...so I took it to my in laws to feed them and my sister in law...(who blew into town on Wed, smelling like a french whore.) Good thing I managed to spill some of the soup in my car....because now my car smells like Stuffed Pepper Soup.

If I can speak to the sister in law and her perfume for just a second...this is the sister in law that I like, so I have to be careful here...but Jesus Christ! She has probably gone through an entire bottle of whatever this shit is...she was here for a little bit tonight...and I am tempted to feed the dog beans, just to get her smell out. Dog ass is better than whatever she is wearing...but I like her, so I will let it slide.

I can't wait for my shrink appt. this week. Dinner with the in laws was very insightful. Insightful in a way that makes you want to shoot yourself!

XO

morning has broken...

I am the only one up right now...it is 9:30am...the house is quiet...the kids are sleeping all cuddled up in one bed...they begged me to let them sleep together last night...it is sweet and probably isn't going to happen much more...so I let them. They are intertwined and yummy and I could stand and stare at them for hours.
I am leaving soon, to go back to my parents...this is "girls day" and we all go out for lunch somewhere fun...My Gram is 87 years old...and I love to spend time with her...My Aunt...and My mom...I guess I shouldn't waste any more time...I need a shower...and some coffee!

A thanksgiving Tribute...

It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without this....


Alice's RestaurantBy Arlo Guthrie
This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the
restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant,
that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's
Restaurant.
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on
Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the
restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the
church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and
Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of
room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Havin' all that room,
seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't
have to take out their garbage for a long time.
We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be
a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump. So
we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW
microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed
on toward the city dump.
Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the
dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump
closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off
into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.
We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the
side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the
cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile
is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we
decided to throw our's down.
That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving
dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the
next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie. He said, "Kid,
we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of
garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And
I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope
under that garbage."
After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we
finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down
and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the
police officer's station. So we got in the red VW microbus with the
shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the
police officer's station.
Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at
the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for
being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and
we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out
and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again,
which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station
there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was
both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I
can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid.
Get in the back of the patrol car."
And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the
quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of
Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop
signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the
Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars,
being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to
get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of
cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station.
They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and
they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each
one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach,
the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to
mention the aerial photography.
After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put
us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your
wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my
wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you
want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I
said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?"
Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the
toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took
out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the
toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie
was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice
(remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few
nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back
to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat,
and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.
We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back
of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up,
and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he
sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the
twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows
and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog.
And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry,
'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American
blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the
judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each
one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And
we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not
what I came to tell you about.
Came to talk about the draft.
They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street,
where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected,
neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one
day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so
I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to
look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted
to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York,
and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all
kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave
me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."
And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I
wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and
guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill,
KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and
he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down
yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me,
sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."
Didn't feel too good about it.
Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections,
detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me
at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four
hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty
ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was
inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no
part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the
last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there,
and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got
one question. Have you ever been arrested?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre,
with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all
the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever
go to court?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on
the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want
you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"
And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's
where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after
committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly
looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father
rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And
they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the
bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest
father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly
'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me
and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay
$50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?"
And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench
there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I
said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand,
and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing,
father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the
bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of
things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it
up and said.
"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna-
know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-
you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting-
officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for
forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had
fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there,
and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it
down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the
pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the
other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on
the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the
following words:
("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?")
I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to
ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm
sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench
'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women,
kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and
said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints
off to Washington."
And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a
study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm
singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar
situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a
situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into
the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get
anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if
one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and
they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony,
they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.
And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in
singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an
organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said
fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and
walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement.
And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and
all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the
guitar.
With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and
sing it when it does. Here it comes.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
That was horrible. If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud.
I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it
for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired.
So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part
harmony and feeling.
We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing.
All right now.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant
©1966,1967 (Renewed) by Appleseed Music Inc. All Rights Reserved

yawn

Happy Thanksgiving eve...
there is nothing going on here worth talking about. C is laying on the couch, watching tv AND reading a book. I had dinner with crazy sister in law...baked cookies AND a cake...and now just want to go to sleep.

I did see a friend from maybe the 6th grade while at my parents house. We graduated from high school together, but she became cooler than me in 7th grade. Turns out, we are equally cool these days...it was fun to run into her and catch up...even if it was only for a minute, outside the grocery store. I got her email address...and vow before you and you and you that I will keep in touch with her. We both laughed at how very few people we still talk to from high school. Her daughter is beautiful. A dark haired version of her. It would be nice to be in touch...you can't ever have too many friends.

I am going to bed and when I wake up...it will be Thanksgiving. I may need you to remind me that this is my favorite holiday. It isn't a day to squander on unhappiness and worry...but rather to relax in the comfort that is your family. My favorite Aunt in the whole world is in town. I cherish every second I spend with her. She knows what is happening with C and I and hugged me tight today.
Peace and gobble.

I'm looking at you...crazy sister in law...

Yeah. So. It is the week of Thanksgiving. I am excited. Really. I am. I AM. I swear.
My family all get together at my parents house. She plays the lovely roll of martyr. My dad likes to stress out about it...I mean, he DOES have to carve the turkey. SHEESH. We wouldn't eat if it weren't for him, right? My brother and his white trash wife like to get into an argument right in the middle of dinner. This always causes MY blood pressure to shoot up...the over under on my nerves being shot is lunch time...
Yeah. So. I am excited.
And. I am going somewhere with this!
Yes I am! I am going to make fun of my sister in law. Again. MUHAAHAHHA.
She...HATES...almost any food. Yep. Pizza? She doesn't like it. (I know...that is a crime.) pasta? Only without the sauce. and only if there is butter and cheese. This is the sister in law that only orders steak when we go out for any meal. Oh. Wait. Only if someone else is paying! That is classy. Steak? at Applebees? Yum. Ok. back to her. So...imagine my surprise when, after I sent my mom a text, telling her that I could make chili for dinner on Friday night...that I got a text from my sister in law (who I would love to kill every time she texts me.) and seriously? The text said "No chili, unless you want to take your brother home with you." Now. I am quite comfortable with farts. Fart fart fart. But...coming from her? It annoyed the absolute SHIT out of me. Really? No chili? Oh...does that baby not like it? I don't let my kids pick the restaurant that we eat at, because the fuckers get the same thing EVERY TIME...same with her. If your taste in food is so weak, YOU DON'T GET TO PICK WHERE WE EAT. Or WHAT WE EAT. Don't ruin it for the rest of us...
And...there is more...but I will hold my tongue.

current goings ons...

It is just the 3 of us tonight...C is working a 12 hour shift for some reason I don't understand...Natch, we went out to eat. I can't cook. I can HEAT things...but didn't feel like it tonight. So, we went to the local pizza place. Pizzaria if you will. We wouldn't, but you can.
The boys, they were like little angels. Until Little asked me if they had tv when I was a kid. I looked at him blankly. I can actually remember a similar convo that I had with my mother...and one when I was older about black and white photos. I couldn't get my head around them. Was the world black and white? When did color come about? This led into other, very similar discussions...like if I took my dog to Mexico, would it have to bark in Spanish to be understood? Would they understand my English speaking dog? What about France? It was all troubling to me. I can also remember a very in depth convo that revolved around the international date line and if it would be possible to never age. Oh my head might explode just thinking about those days...It is a good thing I have given up trying to figure out these life mysteries....whoa! I got off track.
Ok...so kids were good...we had to go to the grocery store after dinner...which is where we witnessed the phenom known as the "deli slicer." Yes, it is real. However, the 3 people working the deli must not have ever seen one before...because it was taking all 3 of them to slice up an order...frankly, I couldn't see what the problem was...until I overheard the price...$8.99/lb.!!WTF was that? Apparently, it takes 3 people to slice gold plated meat. As I looked around, there were other DELI meats that ran in price up to $10/lb. Cry all you want about rising gas prices, but FUCK ME! $10/lb for a sandwich? That is what we should be protesting. It is LUNCH MEAT.
We did get the dog a bone...(this old man came rolling home...) and some random cookie mix. OK. Already made cookie mix that I just take out of the pack and slap on a cookie sheet...but still...that will be lots of fun!
Now we are home...just the 3 of us...I love it. It kinda makes me think what it might be like in the future...just the 3 of us...and the dog, gnawing on a bone the size of his pumpkin head. It isn't so bad.
I almost forgot. Little just finished coloring me a picture...of me! So cute. Purple hair? check. Orange nose? check. Blue legs? (one can only hope those are my pants.) check. and pink/red dots on my face. What are those? I ask...his reply? Those red things on your face. OF COURSE. He is talking about my zits. Thanks. The moment is ruined. Oh well...

poor pitiful me...

I.
DON'T.
FEEL.
WELL.

I did type "good" but realized...that was incorrect. SO. I don't feel well.
That is correct...and accurate.

Hold me. Stroke my hair. Tell me I'm pretty.

yuck...

I am sooo not feeling good. I took a nap and woke up like this...and I don't want to be sick!

I DID meet my friend for coffee this morning...with her adorable daughter!! OMG! If you could promise me that I would have a baby girl...just that sweet...I would say "knock me up, pronto!!" So...cute...so sweet...so baby girly!!

Unforch...I get the fart brothers. The "Who ever smelt it dealt it..." boys...yeah. Farts are the funniest thing in the world!!

Thanks...A...for meeting me for coffee...and sharing that sweet baby girl!!

Friday night fun...not so much...

I knew going into the night that it had the potential to go all wrong. I was optimistic. I should know better than that. The thing that gets me down about it is...I don't know that I can write about it...I don't know if I can get my arms around the real issues. If you think that a friend is doing something completely wrong...and you don't mention it...are you a bad friend...are you even a friend? But if you do mention it...and you are wrong...then are you a bad friend? I mean, who am I to judge anyone or anything? My life is so far from perfect, I can't even see where perfect might begin. At the same time, I watch her making choices that I don't know if she thinks are right...I am not sure that I wouldn't make the same choices if I were in her shoes...so...I am struggling.
I hate being an adult!!

It's FRIDAY!!

YIPPEE!!
My plans for the weekend are crazy...prepare yourself for the fun...
I am meeting Trizish and company out for some karaoke and some drinkin and some laughin. I am only partially looking forward to this...it has the potential to be fun...but it could go the complete opposite direction and bore the pants off of me. We'll see.

Tomorrow, I think I either want to take the boys to see the Bee movie...or buy the Rat movie and check that out with them. Either way, it will be fun. C has reserves and so it will be me and the little guys. I might ask if my new friend Kaliegh can come over. yeah. She is only 10. So what. I like her.

Sunday...I am meeting Ang for coffee at Starbucks. She sent me an outlook appointment, so I know it is official. Ang...I know you read this...so I will mention one thing that I just remembered about you...I remember how when we first became friends, you were in love with the excel spreadsheet. You had your outfits arranged...so as not to repeat them too often. You also had your friends in a sheet...scheduled out so you didn't lose touch. I feel like we have lost touch lately...and maybe we need to revisit that spreadsheet!
We share so many of the same loves...New York, shoes, kate spade, handbags in general and of course...kate's paperie...I hate that we don't spend enough time together...I promise to bring Kate to coffee...you'll love her!

And...that? Is my upcoming weekend. Can't wait!

It's HERE!!

And...it is a day early...
My Kate Spade bag! Has! ARRIVED!! I am so excited...It is in the mailroom right now...I should have it by lunch...wooowooo! It is like Christmas!!

His name is NOT Rico...

Overheard in the kitchen...

Little: "Hey, Rico, don't forget...you have to do this too..." (he is holding up another sheet of paper that looks suspiciously like something a 1st grader might have to do...not so much like that of which Big might bring home...)

Big: "Yeah...that is YOUR homework."

Little: "So. You said you would do it."

Big: "No I didn't...MOM! He's lying..."

Little: "Shut up, Rico."

Me: "Who in the hell is Rico?"

Little: points to Big..."him"

Ok...sorry I asked.

happy birthday...to me...

Yay me...or not...I bought this yesterday at the Kate Spade online sample sale...I love it...and I love that it comes in this pretty green box. Not quite the box from a certain Tiffany...but still...YAY! Can't wait til it gets here...

Oh I love a rainy night...

Fuck me...I don't really.
I do, however, LOVE my shrink. Wanna know why? Cause today, when she told me that she loved my shoes...Target. maryjanes. $19.99. And I returned the compliment? She said "I got these in Italy." OMG! I love her even more! Italy?! She rocks. Of course, as I am walking out the door, I think...yeah, Italy...of course...and I helped send her there. Me and my $25 co pay. Those shoes should be mine!!

Yeah.
Oh. Guess what? Mc Starbucks? He totally bought me coffee again today. I <3 class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">starbucks love! You know. Except for the fact that we both have spouses and children. and all that crap. His line today, to buy me coffee? I tried to tell him no...that he didn't have to buy me coffee...but he sshhshd me...and told me that was how we me...he bought me coffee...uhm...I hate to break this to you...but we actually met when I was stalking you outside your house...I mean, lurking in your car window...I mean driving past your house...what? No. I didn't do those things...For cryin out loud, I don't even know his last name. YET!

You say it's your birthday...

Yep...Today is my birfday...I turn a lot. A LOT! I turn about 15 years older than I feel and a good 20 years older than I act. It's good. You are only as old as you feel...so I have a handle on that. I have no major ailments. No aches or pains that cause me to want to spend most of my waking hours asleep. I am fortunate. I know this.

Yesterday, I spent the day at my parents. My brother's birthday is a week before mine...so we had the "shared party" that we have had since we were wee little ones. The attendees have changed...some have died, some have been added by marriage, but it was still the same. My mom made lasagna. Just like she has every other year. If we could subtract out my sister in law...it would have been a fine time. I won't ruin a birthday blog by talking about her, though!

My mom and I tried to go to the local outlet mall. A trip into Banana Republic and the 35 minute wait to check out had me heading for the hills. My girl Ann's place was similar...although I love her pants...I can wear a size 4 there...but a 1/2 hour wait for 30% off pants was probably worth it...we busted out of Ann Taylor just as fast. There were similar lines everywhere. Who knew? I did check out the new Calvin Klein store. I loves me some Calvin. Calvin was my first pair of size 6. Can you blame me for having a special place in my heart for him?

2 years ago...I was wearing a size 22. I weighed 275 lbs...I was preparing for a surgery that I was half afraid would kill me...funny how much things have changed.

Today...I spent pretty much the way I wanted to...aside from not being in NYC...I got up, got the boys donuts, got them ready for church...got myself ready for a morning walk...walked 3.5 miles jammin out to MY music, took a celebratory birthday nap, and ate cake. Honestly, getting old is ok, as long as you can have cake. Once you take the cake away, you might as well be dead...anyway...yeah...so it was sugar free ice cream cake...but cake was in the title...and it was good!

So...a fond happy birthday to me. Have some cake, in my honor...you deserve it!

too much time on my hands...

Spent the day at my parents...with my sister in law...and my niece...and my dog...and my kids...and not nearly enough medicine.
Going to bed now...when I wake up? It will be my birthday...YAY, me.

almost missed it

Today's post almost wasn't!
We had a thing tonight...it was a banquet for the boys' football teams. It was so nice...as much as I exaggerate that we live in the ghetto, it makes me proud to have my boys growing up with these experiences.
I hope to be able to put into words, exactly what I am feeling...Listening to their coaches, men who have full time jobs, some of whom only share custody of their boys, talking about their teams as if they are made up entirely of their own flesh and blood. These men spend every night from late July until well into October, living and breathing football. Not only teaching them the plays, but teaching them life lessons. For the most part, they lead by example. There is no favoritism, as far as I can tell...and I have 2 sons, one who is a natural athlete, and one not so much...so I know that some kids have to sit the bench...but it's ok. If they are a part of something that they love...it's ok. Their is one coach who cries every year at the banquet. Not because he is a sissy, just the opposite in fact, but because he LOVES these kids. He loves the sport and he loves the sportsmanship. I was a huge skeptic when we first got Big involved in the sport. I mean, he was 7 years old. Did he really need to be playing tackle football? Let alone doing it every night? From late July? But these coaches, they were the perfect amount of tough and strong and caring and nurturing and loving. I would watch the practice and think...this isn't so bad...and Big still loves his first coach! Little was lucky enough to play for him this year. It was truly an honor. For all of us. Big has had the same, sentimental coach for a few years now...and honestly, I couldn't be more thankful for these men.
Little's team won the championship this year...and I can't think of anyone who deserved that trophy more than his coach.
I guess thanks is probably an insignificant word, given all that they have done for my kids...but it is the only word I can think of...

Glamour don't

Why so many on a day that I cannot even go to the bathroom?
You...in the boots...with the too tight suit...yeah. YOU. Could you please wear that tomorrow? I want to make fun of you...but I don't have the time.
Same goes for the girl at the salad bar who seems to need to feed her bum, so it stops eating her pants...oh...you there in the red sweater that I can see your bra thru...don't think I don't see you. I do. I just can't sit still for a second to make fun. But why...if I can see your bra, do you think that no one else can? Why?
There is also the man in the conductor hat, that I just don't understand. Dude. The railroad is MILES from here...what up with that?

Report Card day

Yesterday was report card day 'round these parts. It was also the parent/teacher conference with Big's GATE teacher. (Gate is the new Gifted, apparently.) Anyhoo...I missed the conference, sending C instead. When I got home last night...I got the low down. They were looking at the scores from the PSSA test that he took last Spring. The ones I mentioned here before...the ones that seemed to be pretty much off the charts. Yeah. That was confirmed yesterday by the Gate teacher. Big isn't just borderline smart. He is really fucking smart. No. Those aren't the EXACT words that the teacher used, I improvised. His report card? 9 A's and 1 B. And? The B? Was in MUSIC. Shut the fuck up. Music. (ok...remember the other day when I broke it to Big that he didn't have a career in music ahead of him? Clearly, I was right!!) So. My baby...was clearly switched at birth!
Little also got his report card. He isn't graded on the A system...but rather O is outstanding. NP is normal progress. And S means study harder? Anyway! Little got all NP's...and an NP+ in Art. Gym. AND MUSIC! That he got an NP+ in music makes me worry that he might have been switched at birth as well!!
I joke about them. I call them assholes and fuckers...in the nicest way possible...and not to their faces...but my GOD. I think I could have burst last night. Really. Having two boys who are relatively well behaved, who get along with each other and their peers, and who are doing well in school, is really a blessing that shouldn't be taken for granted. I see a trip to Dave and Buster's in the near future. Those little fuckers deserve it!

reflections of lunch

Why oh why do I always think that Mexican is a good idea?
I have the same thing every single time I go there...and every single time, I get a belly ache.
I always take 2 mints...because they're small...and they're there...for the taking...but the 2 mints fail to off set the upset that is my stomach.
I am sure this will pass...(Aw shit, I crack me up!)

Confession time...again

Ok...we shouldn't have a dog. Go 'head...call the police...the dog police...or dog protective services...or who ever you call...because we? Shouldn't have a dog.
It sounded like a good idea at the time...you know...when Little wanted one for Christmas last year...and neither one of us could come up with a better present...we went for it. Hind sight being what it is...we might have been better off with something LESS needy. I mean, all of the other Christmas junk was thrown away by MLK Day...the dog? Not so much.
Another part of my confession is that the only thing we really like to do with this dog? Is make fun of him. He is pretty lazy. Lazy in the way that almost makes you jealous. Lazy like take two steps and lay down, lazy. He seems to be in a constant state of rest. The only exception to this rule is when there is food to be had. Oh. Sweet Jesus! That is what he saves all of his energy for. He can smell pizza a mile a way. And...he isn't tricked by the old "Throw a bone out the back door and let him go after it..." Hell no. He wants him some ZZA.
Tonight...as I came downstairs, I was passed by the boys...first Big, then Little shooting a pistol at Big, then the dog...I asked what they were doing...and Little said..."We are chasing Seymore Poopoo." See More Poo Poo. OMG! Where does he get this stuff? At any rate, the dog must think they are holding up a pizza delivery guy...and he needs in on it!
We talk to the dog...a lot...like he is human and can answer us. Sometimes, we answer for the dog. When I do it, he sounds a lot like a female Barry White. When C does it, he sounds like Yogi Bear. When Big does it, he sounds French. Little doesn't roll like that. He thinks we're all stupid!
Anyway...we shouldn't have a dog...just to amuse us.

My Eyebrows...

...need a fuckin...pluckin...

OMG! I came up with that earlier today and totally cracked myself up! So much so, that I repeated it to a friend...who doesn't find me amusing. Instead of laughing politely? She looked and said "Oh MY! They sure do!"

Tell me that you get it. Tell me that you see the humor in the fact that FUCKIN and PLUCKIN rhyme. Dude. It isn't funny when I explain it.

a new twist on an old favorite

I just finished breaking the bad news to Big. He has no future as a singer. None. In fact, I predict that he will be asked to play a musical instrument...or take a general music course...before he will be asked to sing in any choir...This comes on the heels of his singing the following...

"She'll have Fun, Fun, Fun, til her daddy takes the TIVO away."

Welcome to 2007...where TIVO is more recognized than T-bird. When I attempted to explain the T-bird reference, it was clear that TIVO made more sense to him...frankly...I get it!

Over/under

Well. If any of you had 3 days...on the whole "how long will she do this before she screws the pooch?" You are a WINNER! Yep. Yesterday...no blog. I have tons of excuses...First, it is hard to blog when you are sleeping...which is what I was doing for most of the morning...then...it is hard to blog when your kids are obsessed with all things webkinz and the computer table is up to its ass in Halloween candy and webkinz. I won't even get into that at this juncture.

Then...it is even harder to blog when you are out getting all tuned up...so. I failed. I am sure I am in good company...but still. I will try to make it up today...by maybe posting twice? How about 3 times? Will that help?



Right now...I would like to take you back to last night, if I could...I'll set the scene. My friend Lori is turning 36. We go out for a few beers. It'll be fun...we go...there are beers...and laughter...and conversations from the boys about shaving their balls. Really? It doesn't even seem to take that much beer to bring those conversations out. Meanwhile...drinking and laughing and all things fun...leads us to the local Eagles club. Admittedly, I have never been to one, after dark. Turns out, those Eagles? Know how to throw it down. There was a band. Ok. A country band...but that brought out all things funny. I LOVE to make fun of people, I mean, that is just what I do...so imagine my delight to discover this whole underworld of people there...that just lent themselves to being made fun of. There was the table of women, who I only hope had just returned from a wedding reception...complete with updos. There was the woman with more mascara/eyeliner, than is legally allowed in this county. There were dresses. And fun...but I think the funniest part of the night, was when I...in my drunken stupor, attempted to buy the first round...only to find out that...they don't take credit cards there at the Eagles. Yeah...so I had $3.79 in my purse. Not quite enough for a round of drinks...even at the Eagles!
We rolled the party over to the local I don't know what. It was about that time that I decided I was long past my bed time...and nothing good was going to come out of the rest of the night. I had to pee...and as I am perched a mile above the toilet...I notice a nice little blurb written on the wall...about someone who has Hep C...apparently...Hep C is the new crabs? I don't know. I washed my hands with antiseptic wipes I had in my purse...I gave some serious consideration to wiping with them...but figured that would sting, just a tad. And, I wasn't certain that antiseptic wipes would help me in the quest to remain Hep C negative.
Not to worry...I got home...had a delightful conversation with my husband...and by delightful, I totally mean NOT DELIGHTFUL in the least. It went something like this....he said something to hurt me, I returned the favor. It was a lovely game of verbal volleyball. Then...just as the clock set itself back an hour...the vomiting began! Yes! Of course, I was the only one up for it! Yes...somehow, he can manage to hear me SNEAK in...but can sleep through our youngest vomiting? Amazing, to say the least. Not to worry, though...even though I had no help from my husband...the dog did his part...Yep. He was more than willing to EAT as much vomit as he could lay his snout on. Fuck the Atkins diet. All you need to lose weight is to over feed your son Halloween candy and Totinos pizza rolls...and let him projectile vomit all over your bathroom...while you struggle with a case of "too much beer..." Add Dog and you have yourself a new diet. How did I know it was Totinos pizza rolls? Oh. Because he said...It sure does smell like pizza rolls! Yep. I couldn't place the smell...but now I can...and can also assure you that we won't be having pizza rolls again.
Anyway...That brings me up to speed for the day...I'll be back to see how you are feeling in a little while!

Day 2

Today was the first WHOLE day I have spent in the same state as my children since Sunday...not that long...but long enough to get used to pooping without interruption...eating food from a menu that doesn't include chicken fingers or french fries...not having to pick up random crap off the floor...wondering what happened to my life? This sooo isn't how I pictured it. Sometimes I joke that the wires got crossed somewhere...and that no way...no how is this supposed to be my life. I should be living in a too small, over priced apt. in NYC...scooting out for cosmos with my girl Ang...giggling over her Stuart Weitzman obsession and my new love for all things Michael Kors...our jobs would be very important...vague, but important. Hers would involve international travel...mine, not so much. There would be no time for pets or children...no time for that...there would be time for Bloomingdales...and fun drinks and serious conversation...there would be men in our lives...of course...but we are more important to them than they are to us...there would be weekends in the Hamptons...

Instead...I wish you could see me right now...sitting in the middle of a dining room, listening to Big sing that damn Feist song...1234...completely off key...(I wonder where he gets it?) and Little yelling about the dog...

I hate the re-entry into my life after a trip away for work...a trip where I don't have to make my bed or pick up my towel or answer to anyone. It usually takes me a little while to get back in the groove. This is no exception. I know that I wouldn't trade my kids for anything...but sometimes when I get a glimpse of what I think I could have LOVED...I get a little sad.

NABLOPOMO

I don't know what it is...but if it means posting a blog everyday for the month of November...then I don't want to miss out!!
So...here is my blog for today!

I am just back from a trip to Boston...where I got to watch the Pats win...if that is even the right word to describe that...and the Sox win the series. Don't ask me if I went to the parade...are you fucking kidding me? 30 people deep all over town? A million people there? No...but thanks.

I am putting the kids to bed and then thinking about od'ing on something stronger than tootsie rolls. Last night? I was sleeping in a big king sized bed...watching CSI NY and scaring myself into a panic attack. Tonight? Making Peanut butter and jelly and explaining why the fucking pencil sharpener isn't ment to be ran UNSUPERVISED. What the hell went on here while I was gone?

I'll investigate and get back to you.

Update on party central

Well...somebody fuck me...Saturday turned out to be unforgettable. Unforgettable in the way that having a root canal without pain meds, is unforgettable. Here is how it went...know in advance that I am NOT a morning person. No sir. Morning people don't run in my family....
Saturday at 8 mother-fucking-am, I am up, showered, and have some laundry started. No idea what came over me...but it is true. Oh. I forgot about having cinnamon rolls baking, too. Yeah. I had a big glass of June Cleaver...Anyway...both boys up and dressed (C had reserves this weekend) and ready for the semi-final football game...little is starting bench sitter...he does that job so well, we are so proud! We meet at the designated meeting point. We turn out to be the only family meeting there. So it was us and the 3 coaches. Ok. Caravan to the game...sit...for an hour and a half until the game starts...Game over, they win.(secretly hoping for an upset...just so the season ended, but that is completely wrong and I deny ever saying it.) We leave and get lunch...come home, get big ready for the party of the century. Recall, he is going to be a hula girl. So damn cute...they take turns putting on the wig...I paint his toe nails a bright orange shade...perfect hula girl color...and off we go to that party. For a 10 year old boy, he has a tremendous amount of confidence. He strolled in to that party like the shiznit. He is wearing a coconut bra and his mothers flip flops. But he had the time of his life!
The party in the ghetto? Not quite as good. We get there at 7. Which is after dark, for those of you not observing fall in western pennsylvania. I'm sorry. Did I mention it was in the ghetto? Yeah. It was. We go in...and it is ok...a normal room...filled with mostly normal kids...I think I am going to do the "drop and run" that I feel entitled to after my kid turns 6. BBBBBZZZZ Wrong! There is no drop and run. There is a table of mothers looking about as happy as I was. One mother actually had a cross word puzzle. Clearly, she had been here before. Good thinking, I thought! Anyway...2 mothers I know from football rolled in, so I at least had people to make fun of things with...and lord knows that is my favorite pastime. There was no bobbing for syringes...but the option made me laugh a second time! To be honest, the party was fine...except that at 8:30 a collective meltdown began. 8:30...kids in Halloween costumes...sugar...plenty of parents, but limited supervision...a lethal combo, really. As soon as there were tears and screams, I packed it up...I forced our present on the birthday girl and out the door we went. OOH...not so fast! In the door? The Cops. Yep. It might be the ghetto, if your 6th birthday party involves the po-lice. Drug dog. Christ, I was happy not to have any "thing" on me...how embarrassed would I be? Turns out, they just patrol the projects and he stopped in because he recognized kids from school. They are in 1st grade...Can't wait to see how they all turn out!
By the time we got home, I realized "I haven't eaten since that 1/2 cheeseburger at lunch" it was 9. I just went to bed.

trick or treat...

First of all...I have to say...I love to be able to add pictures. It makes me feel so smart. So hip. So darn cool...Ok...carry on...

We went Halloween costume shopping. Both boys were invited to a birthday party on Saturday. Big's party is deemed "The party of the century." No pressure there, huh? So...we went...and we had a blast! Just the 3 of us...trying on wigs and hats and giggling and acting the fool. It was so much fun! We settled on these costumes...and damn are they funny! Big is going to be a hula girl. A hula girl. Complete with coconut boobs and a grass skirt. Yes, I am aware of the fact that this will probably bring on years of therapy, but frankly? He has that coming anyway! Really. Look at his parents!

Little's party is not quite the party of the century. It is a party that I am concerned about...actually. The family of the girl who is turning 6 has a problem. They like to reproduce. The wife currently has 6 children and at this time next year, that number will be 7. 3 different baby daddys, though. You know. That is how we roll here. Their constant need to reproduce wouldn't be THAT bad, if their kids were good. But they are not. The oldest is 20. then 15,9,6,5 and 2. They are always dirty. And not in a "oh...let me get a wipe and wipe that off" kind of way...more like a "Holy shit! You need a bath and a good scrubbin" kind of way. The party is at the community center in one of the local housing projects. A place I have never ventured. Good times. Drop my 6 year old off for 2 hours of dodging bullets and bobbing for syringes. He is going as a gangsta rapper. It is the funniest thing ever. So...stay tuned for the update on the Halloween party extravaganza!!

We've got a man down...

After much tooth wiggling...we finally lost a tooth. I honestly thought he was going to be the only kid at his high school graduation with all of his baby teeth...but alas! He won't be!
The normal ritual at bedtime went a little something like this:
Him: Mom, wiggle my tooth...
me: One time baby, then it is lights out for you...
Older brother: let ME wiggle it...
screaming ensued...
Him: Just wiggle, don't pull, mommy.
me: I want to pull it, just a little bit...(tugging on the tooth...)
up until last night, the tooth remained firmly in place.
Last night? The tooth popped out in my hand...his face was PRICELESS...although, I figure mine was as well!!
Of course there was blood...and phone calls...because honestly, when we draw blood or lose teeth, we have to call a relative...and in this case, when both happened...we had to call 2 relatives. All contacted were very happy at the loss of the tooth. Even if it was almost 9:30 at night.
The toothfairy came. Of course, when he woke up...the tooth had fallen onto the floor and the money had slid down in his bed, so the only thing under the pillow was the note that we left, requesting that the toothfairy Leave the money AND the tooth! There were tears...and then when the tooth/money were discovered, the big one was pissed off. Apparently, he never got $2 for a tooth. I started to explain inflation to him...but the little one interrupted and just said "well, you never had a tooth pulled by your mom." Clearly the only logical explanation.

10 years...

Wow! Time sure flies when you have fun...

Here is to you, P-Diddy...On your 10th birthday...I love you...for the boy you are...and the man that you will become.

I remember so much about those early days with you...I remember you and daddy watching Penn State on tv 3 days after you were born. I think you slept. I remember not long after you were born, John Denver died. We sat on the livingroom floor and sang some of his songs...your dad and I...When I was very pregnant with you, Princess Diana died. I cried like she had been my best friend. So sad. I remember the crisp autumn weather...sitting on the porch...swinging. Wondering if either one of us was ever going to make it through the day without crying. I think it was much later that we were able to do that!!

I remember your first day of preschool. So cute...I just wanted to hold you and never let go. Your teacher, Miss Wendy, thought I was off my rocker...I cried at orientation. Then came your brother. I know you remember the day he was born as the day Aunt Heather forgot the ketchup! Your memory is incredible. The day Logan was born is the day you aged so quickly. You went from being my tiny little baby boy...to being the big brother. Oh...how fast the time has gone.

Yesterday, you were in kindergarten. Today...4th grade. You are an athlete. A caring young man...a son, a brother, a grandson...a friend...I love you baby.

I love you!

It's my life...

Ok...I know times are tough all over town. Yeah. I get that. I get that paydays should come a little more often and bills, not as much. Fine. Whatever. But lately, it seems to be much harder to make ends meet than it has in the past....that being said...I will admit right here, that I shop at Walmart. For food. I can't bring myself to purchase anything else there, but food does it for me.
I was on a mission to save $ this weekend, to try and keep checks from bouncing, and buy a birthday present for my son. Ok. So. I also decided to throw a tiny little birthday party for the boy, too. I invited some family...and my mission to save $ was put to the test...First stop? Aldis. Not Aldo...the shoe store...but Aldi...the super cheap grocery store. Ok. I have been to Aldi exactly ONE other time before that...and probably broke out in a rash from it...but my memory was apparently erased, because I couldn't remember a damn thing about how they don't allow you a shopping cart...Nope. Apparently, you can RENT one. Ok. No. I can carry what I need, right? So...here I am...carrying 2 bags of chips, 2 things of cheese, and I notice the pickles are on sale/for sale? So...where am I going to put them? Aha! My handbag. Yes. That is right, I was shoving jars of pickles and olives into my knock off D&G bag. In broad daylight. Without concern...I had to actually stop and text my friend, because really, when you find yourself at rock bottom...you really need to share it with someone. So...check out...back in the bag with the pickles...but I had to take them out when I got to the car...because I was going to Walmart and didn't want to be accused of shoplifting pickles from Walmart, that I paid for at Aldi.
Walmart. The deli. The deli is actually where I am going to die. Yes. You can go there at any given time of the day or night...and there are always going to be 20 disgruntled people in front of you. Always. So. I wait. I do need chipped ham...for ham bbq. And I wait. And...wait. My turn...OH MY LORD. The man waiting on me DOESN'T HAVE ANY BOTTOM TEETH. Ok. I am exaggerating. He doesn't have the MAIN 4 bottom teeth. He has the pointy ones...but not the front 4. Ok. Perhaps this is Walmart's new way of keeping down costs. And I get that. Hire people without teeth to work in the deli...they certainly won't eat your food...They just can't. And that is great and fine. In theory. Not so much in practice. It scares me enough that they wear those big honkin hair nets. Why? Are they all sporting gigantic afros? I doubt it. But still, they wear hairnets that will cover the entire state of Vermont. Now? They don't have teeth? Please. No more. It is halloween time. Could that man with no teeth have sprung for some waxed lips? Or dracula teeth? I mean, dental is expensive...but those two alternatives are relatively cheap. I don't know...something to think about.
So...I left Walmart...pondering how my life has become what it is. How can I possibly be the same girl who used to have a cashmere collection? A Neiman Marcus credit card? And a taste for all things Coach and leather? Fast forward a few years. Old Navy cutoffs? Check. Target flip flops? Check. Knock off hand bag, filled with pickles from Aldi? Check.
I need a xanax...and some cashmere....

Oh Dear!

I think that there may be cause for alarm. It would seem that Forever 21, the ever hip...very trendy...exceptionally CHEAP clothing store, has taken ill and thrown up all over a girl here at work. I must preface this story with the fact that I get a rash around cheap clothes. I don't mean to sound snobby, but it is true. I spent a great deal of time overweight...and I developed an appreciation for good fabric and well made clothes. You see...there were not a lot of options for a working woman who wore a size 22. I was a regular in the "plus" dept at Macy's. I had yards, no bolts, of fabric from Jones New York, Liz...and Ang HATED my Liz collection, among others...and they were, well made. Now that I can shop at places like Forever 21 (ok...technically, I CAN'T shop there, because I haven't been 21 in quite a few years...) I am appalled at the lack of quality that passes for fashion these days. This girl was seen sporting a grey mini dress...short sleeves, short skirt...with a long sleeve blouse underneath. Apparently, this is all the rage among the younger crowd. I don't get it, but whatever. The mini dress SKIMMED high mid thigh. When she sat down, I TOTALLY saw London (as in...I see London, I see France...) I saw more of her than my husband has seen of me in weeks! She pulled this outfit together with MUSTARD yellow shoes. Confused? Me too! It is the ugliest outfit EVA! Her hair? Not sure what we are trying to pull there...the top is pulled back in a clip...then the bottom is kind of twisted and up and fixed with another clip. Looking like 2 very different hairstyles, all sitting down together. It was hard to look away. It was even harder not to stage an intervention and go all "Glamour Don't" on her ass. She is young. I guess she is entitled to her mistakes...I know I made them...thinking about the plaid short/vest combo that I rocked one day, early in my work career.
Let's all send a get well card to Forever 21...in hopes to avoid any further vomiting on anyone!!

Our own Doogie Howser!

Yesterday, among the bills and offers for credit cards, I received a letter from the big ones school. He is the good kid, so I figured it was nothing too serious...when I opened it, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was the results of the PSSA test that he took last year. No idea if this is a national test, I guess I should know, but I don't. Anyway...the PSSA tests reading and math. It scores you against students across the state? Anyway...Big is advanced in both categories. No big surprise...but the big surprise was HOW well he did. Now...there is some argument that he was switched at birth...whatever...He looks too much like me for him not to be mine...and my husband is pretty intelligent. I can pass off reasonably intelligent if I have to, at least for short periods of time...so he is our kid. But it was amazing how well he did. He was at the high end of the chart. I have felt pride before. But never like this. Tears welled in my eyes. He works so hard. He is only 10. He loves school. He loves to read. I hope, beyond all hope, that he doesn't lose this passion in an attempt to be cool or to fit in with his peers. I hope that we can foster this passion and help it to grow. He is in 4Th grade. He plays football. At some point, getting good grades and being in the GATE program isn't going to be cool. He isn't real concerned with that at this point...but I want him to be OK with his intelligence...but also to just be a kid. I watch him sometimes...when he needs to make a decision...I can see that he is going to have trouble when he has to decide between right and wrong. He wants to do the right thing...even when it isn't the cool thing. He is going to have a hard time, I think. We're going to have a hard time.

The love that you feel for your children is hard to explain...and your wants and your hopes and your fears for them change at a moments notice. I hope we can do right by him...so that he can do right, as well. I know that every mother wants the best for her child. I wish someone could help you know what that is!!

football photo essay

From Sunday's game...only the little one...because I don't have any pictures of him...and I have an ass load of the big one! Fair is fair.

I have put comments on the picture, but it seems at this point, they are too small. Sorry.

stinky feet

Stinky feet...stinky feet...oh my stinky feet...tell me why do my feet stink? I swear it is the shoes...and not for nothing, but they DON'T smell like Fritos, like some people would have you believe.
PU My stinky feet.

It's monday...and I am crabby...

Just shoot me, please

PLEASE...for the love of God and all things good and holy. SHOOT ME.
My kids? Driving me nuts.
My husband? Driving me nuts.
The dog? DRIVING ME NUTS.

I have the husband trying to crawl up my ass and pitch a tent now...jesus. You go to couples therapy with someone and they all the fucking sudden can't get enough of you. I tell you...if you ever want someone to pay attention to you? Tell them you are leaving them. Fuck. It backfired. Now I have him lodged up my ass with no apparent plans to leave.
I have the oldest son...reading every article from every ever loving paper...about football. And? I just realized...we don't even get a fucking paper. Where is this coming from? We stopped getting the local newspaper when the headlines read "Bookmobile catches fire." Really? THAT is breaking news? The whole situation in the Middle East? War torn countries, starving babies? But the BOOKMOBILE? Yeah. Quality. So...someone is feeding my son the newspaper, and I am not happy about it. Yes, I hear what you are saying...HE IS READING. Yes. But ALOUD...about FOOTBALL.
The little one and the dog are in cahoots. The little one fucks with the dog...and he growls at him...then the little one yells...lather, rinse, repeat.
I am going to take a xanax and going to bed.

FUCK.

santa clause in Sept.

So. This is how the little one wanted to go to school this morning...(Shoot me, but I have just learned how to post pictures...and am loving it) Yes. Those are his brothers socks. Yes. That is a linen top from this past Easter that he wore under protest and only after some serious threats. He is a HUGE Rangers fan (hahaha...not really...I know you love that Ang...) Also...do you think I should take down the Christmas crafts? Or just leave them up now...it is Sept.