Showing posts with label WTF?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WTF?. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 26
Monday, November 5
the fiery pits of hell (aka don't ever go to Chuck E's place again)
Yesterday I had the unfortunate luck of attending yet another birthday party - number two for the weekend. This one was held in Rat Hell.
Rat Hell = Chuck E. Cheese
I've complained about trips to Rat Hell before, but trust me when I say this one was by far the worst experience I've ever had. One that I will never experience again because I have no intention of setting foot in Rat Hell ever again. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let me explain.
Being that it was a Sunday the place was crawling with ankle biters of all ages. There were no less than four birthday parties being held simultaneously, and that doesn't account for the others who decided Rat Hell was a good place to take their children on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Kids were running everywhere - some laughing, some screaming, some crying. The place was pure madness and the noise was deafening. And in typical Rat Hell form there were only a handful of *I R a Hi Skool Gradgets* to be spotted on occasion peeking out from the back and trying not to make eye contact with the patrons ready to shell out their hard earned cash.
After arriving and depositing our present and other belongings in the party zone several other mom's and I headed up to order some barely passing as edible grub. I tried to coax them into ditching the scene and heading to Applebee's, Olive Garden, or even one of the more palatable places in the food court, but to my dismay no one was interested in fleeing with me. No shorter than 10 minutes after getting in line did the first of our group order - one sandwich, two hot dogs, and three drinks. She was assigned number 16. I was immediately after her ordering what I thought would be a simple undertaking for the kitchen - chicken wings and a drink - and was assigned number 17. Number 18 was a mother-daughter duo that was with our group but sat at a different table to share some of that quality mother-daughter time that can only be spent in Rat Hell while waiting on the boy to finish attending a birthday party. And our number 19 with her cheese less individual pizza and water placed her order and headed back to the table.
My order was taken at 12:03pm.
The first order up was number 19 because apparently it doesn't take as long to cook a cheese less pizza since there's nothing to melt. The burnt edges of the crust might have also given them the impression it was done. She began eating after us telling her not to wait for our food and the minutes ticked away. I honestly don't even know what time it was at this point. Out of no where the sandwich from order number 16 appeared, and the number was swiped off the table like a cat swatting at a goldfish in a tank. The hot dogs didn't show and when the mom who'd ordered the pairing appeared back at the table and informed us that the hot dogs were on their way out until the hi skool dropout dropped them on the ground I suspected we were plummeting into the fiery pits of hell.
By now, still not cognizant of the time, cheese less pizza diner was done eating but there were still no hot dogs and no chicken wings. So I decided to find out if they were having trouble corralling the chickens or what. I was told both were still cooking. I don't know much about nuthin' but it usually takes me all of 3 minutes for a hot dog and about 25 minutes for some chicken wings, from a frozen state, in my regular home oven. About 10 minutes later the hot dogs arrived. Still no chicken wings.
At some point during the food wait another family of four had seated themselves at a booth opposite ours. Shortly after the hot dogs arrival, cheese less pizza mom took the initiative to check on my chicken wings - again - only to find they were still cooking. Some 60 minutes later might I add. And then it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them. My chicken wings. Complete with blue cheese dressing to dip them in and celery sticks on the side. And as she headed my way I could feel my mouth start watering even though my mind knew they wouldn't be nearly as tasty as I was hoping they'd be.
They were delivered. To the other freakin' table. The one with the number 24 tent on the edge of it. The one with the family of four crammed into its tiny little booth. WTF?? Where were my damned chicken wings? I knew I should have eaten something - anything - before heading to this damned party.
Cheese less pizza mom immediately got up to go find out what the hell the I R a Hi Skool Gradgets were pulling but I jumped up and said "That's it! I'm done!"
As I marched my ass to the front register thoroughly intending on cutting to the front of whatever line was there I see the valedictorian of the class heading out with my order. I looked her straight in the eye, waving my hand towards the kitchen and said "Oh no! You can go right back with those because I'm getting a full refund right now." And that's exactly what I did. The girl behind the counter must have been the only one in the place with a lick of sense in her, for when I demanded a full refund AND more tokens she didn't flinch, stammer, or quibble. I've never seen anyone move faster in that place than she did. Within 2 minutes flat I had my $10.28 for the food I didn't eat, plus the Diet Coke I nursed while waiting, and a handful of tokens for the kiddo.
But that's not the end. I know can you believe there's more?
When I got back to the table proudly proclaiming my victory over the rats I see, and hear, the head rat talking to table number 24. Apparently when their chicken wings arrived they complained that the food had taken so long so the flunky sent the head rat out to talk to them. I'm sure she wishes she'd never come to work today after they, and I, said what was on our minds. The whole time she stood there spouting off Rat Hell policy she was holding my chicken wings. The one's I'd waited exactly 72 minutes for before taking action. And you know what she did with them after all that? Threw them in the trash.
Needless to say I warn every one of you who wake up on a Sunday morning with ideas of entertaining your children with a trip to Rat Hell, or those of you who find yourself cornered by a birthday invitation to the fiery pit. Run don't walk, as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Trust me on this one.
Rat Hell = Chuck E. Cheese
I've complained about trips to Rat Hell before, but trust me when I say this one was by far the worst experience I've ever had. One that I will never experience again because I have no intention of setting foot in Rat Hell ever again. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let me explain.
Being that it was a Sunday the place was crawling with ankle biters of all ages. There were no less than four birthday parties being held simultaneously, and that doesn't account for the others who decided Rat Hell was a good place to take their children on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Kids were running everywhere - some laughing, some screaming, some crying. The place was pure madness and the noise was deafening. And in typical Rat Hell form there were only a handful of *I R a Hi Skool Gradgets* to be spotted on occasion peeking out from the back and trying not to make eye contact with the patrons ready to shell out their hard earned cash.
After arriving and depositing our present and other belongings in the party zone several other mom's and I headed up to order some barely passing as edible grub. I tried to coax them into ditching the scene and heading to Applebee's, Olive Garden, or even one of the more palatable places in the food court, but to my dismay no one was interested in fleeing with me. No shorter than 10 minutes after getting in line did the first of our group order - one sandwich, two hot dogs, and three drinks. She was assigned number 16. I was immediately after her ordering what I thought would be a simple undertaking for the kitchen - chicken wings and a drink - and was assigned number 17. Number 18 was a mother-daughter duo that was with our group but sat at a different table to share some of that quality mother-daughter time that can only be spent in Rat Hell while waiting on the boy to finish attending a birthday party. And our number 19 with her cheese less individual pizza and water placed her order and headed back to the table.
My order was taken at 12:03pm.
The first order up was number 19 because apparently it doesn't take as long to cook a cheese less pizza since there's nothing to melt. The burnt edges of the crust might have also given them the impression it was done. She began eating after us telling her not to wait for our food and the minutes ticked away. I honestly don't even know what time it was at this point. Out of no where the sandwich from order number 16 appeared, and the number was swiped off the table like a cat swatting at a goldfish in a tank. The hot dogs didn't show and when the mom who'd ordered the pairing appeared back at the table and informed us that the hot dogs were on their way out until the hi skool dropout dropped them on the ground I suspected we were plummeting into the fiery pits of hell.
By now, still not cognizant of the time, cheese less pizza diner was done eating but there were still no hot dogs and no chicken wings. So I decided to find out if they were having trouble corralling the chickens or what. I was told both were still cooking. I don't know much about nuthin' but it usually takes me all of 3 minutes for a hot dog and about 25 minutes for some chicken wings, from a frozen state, in my regular home oven. About 10 minutes later the hot dogs arrived. Still no chicken wings.
At some point during the food wait another family of four had seated themselves at a booth opposite ours. Shortly after the hot dogs arrival, cheese less pizza mom took the initiative to check on my chicken wings - again - only to find they were still cooking. Some 60 minutes later might I add. And then it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them. My chicken wings. Complete with blue cheese dressing to dip them in and celery sticks on the side. And as she headed my way I could feel my mouth start watering even though my mind knew they wouldn't be nearly as tasty as I was hoping they'd be.
They were delivered. To the other freakin' table. The one with the number 24 tent on the edge of it. The one with the family of four crammed into its tiny little booth. WTF?? Where were my damned chicken wings? I knew I should have eaten something - anything - before heading to this damned party.
Cheese less pizza mom immediately got up to go find out what the hell the I R a Hi Skool Gradgets were pulling but I jumped up and said "That's it! I'm done!"
As I marched my ass to the front register thoroughly intending on cutting to the front of whatever line was there I see the valedictorian of the class heading out with my order. I looked her straight in the eye, waving my hand towards the kitchen and said "Oh no! You can go right back with those because I'm getting a full refund right now." And that's exactly what I did. The girl behind the counter must have been the only one in the place with a lick of sense in her, for when I demanded a full refund AND more tokens she didn't flinch, stammer, or quibble. I've never seen anyone move faster in that place than she did. Within 2 minutes flat I had my $10.28 for the food I didn't eat, plus the Diet Coke I nursed while waiting, and a handful of tokens for the kiddo.
But that's not the end. I know can you believe there's more?
When I got back to the table proudly proclaiming my victory over the rats I see, and hear, the head rat talking to table number 24. Apparently when their chicken wings arrived they complained that the food had taken so long so the flunky sent the head rat out to talk to them. I'm sure she wishes she'd never come to work today after they, and I, said what was on our minds. The whole time she stood there spouting off Rat Hell policy she was holding my chicken wings. The one's I'd waited exactly 72 minutes for before taking action. And you know what she did with them after all that? Threw them in the trash.
Needless to say I warn every one of you who wake up on a Sunday morning with ideas of entertaining your children with a trip to Rat Hell, or those of you who find yourself cornered by a birthday invitation to the fiery pit. Run don't walk, as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Trust me on this one.
Sunday, November 4
sunday seven (2nd installment)
It's time for another installment of the Sunday Seven - seven items that don't necessarily say enough by themselves.
1. The week went by like a flash and the evenings even faster. Monday night was the first "open" BOD meeting of the school year, and since they were discussing the budget I really wanted to be there. In hindsight I'm not sure why I thought they'd actually have one ready. I mean really, it's only the beginning of November and school's been in session for only two months, so what's the rush. Sheesh! Of course Wednesday night was Halloween and all the hoopla associated with it. Then Friday night the little man's social calendar kicked into high gear with the first of two birthday parties for the week - this one back at our local skating rink. Today's party is at Rat Hell, but I'll keep that one for a separate post of its own. And then, of course, the NaBloPoMo madness ensued. (See #2)
2. Despite Tim's total lack of confidence in me (phffft!) I've somehow managed to keep blogging every day of the month, so far. Yeah, I know! We're only on day 4, but whatever. I'm doing it. Which is more than I can say for some of the others who signed up for it. I found the NaBloPoMo randomizer and installed it on my sidebar (see it sitting over there?), so yesterday I started running it and checking out different blogs I may not have known about before. WTF? Some people haven't even started posting, some are linked to "private" blogs where you have to request access (uh, notsomuch!), and others have already given up. Losers. But getting past those, there's a few I've found enjoyment, and more importantly entertainment, in reading so I've listed them out in their own section on my sidebar (look over to the left again). I'm sure I'll keep adding more as the month goes on and, as my list grows longer, so does my feedreader.
3. Speaking of Tim (aka LA Daddy), LA Family have now welcomed the newest member of the family - LA Baby - to the wide world of wackiness. Congrats my friend! I look forward to meeting her some day, but don't get your hopes up that it'll be the day you celebrate the big 4-0!
4. Also on the celebration bandwaggon is my Super Sweet 'n Sassy Snackie who's celebrating her youthful 36 today. Make your way on over and cover her with birthday kisses. MUAH!!!
5. Friday I had other sorts of kisses in mind. Those would be of the *kiss my ass* variety. Now before I start my bitching about work, let me just make one thing clear - I love that I have a job. I'm just notsomuch in love with my job anymore. Somehow in the past two months my responsibilites have shifted so much that what they really hired me to do is now falling third on my priorities list. Why? Well, that's because they keep going through reorgs and reshuffles and downsizing and whatever other term you want to use for walking around with their heads stuck up their ass and not being able to see what the real problem is even though it's staring them right in the face. The real problem is there's not enough people to do all the work that needs to be done, yet they keep disposing of them. I am now carrying a workload of one and three-quarters persons, and before you all think I'm just complaining that they're overworking me, let me clarify. It's not the "load" that bothers me, it's how it's structured. All three main responsibilites I have are, for the most part, totally unrelated to the others. This makes it very difficult to pay full attention to any one of them, let alone the fact that I've got customers - both internal and external - screaming at me and begging me to "be expedient". Um, last time I checked I was just one person. Maybe I need to clone myself? But what good would that do? They'd still only pay one measly little salary for me. I almost walked on Friday. But I didn't. And tomorrow I'll drag my tired ass back into the firey pits of hell for another week.
6. I started my Christmas shopping. Afterall, there's only 50 shopping days left until the big day. LOL But that's not the reason I started shopping. We went to Target to pick up the kiddo's new glasses and I got a little distracted by the $1 bins. Everything's just a buck, so how can you not buy stuff. Seriously though, with giving little gifts to teachers, neighbors, and friends at work, stocking up on the inexpensive goodies as I see them is the best way to go. As it gets closer to the holiday I might tell you what I got, and what I'm doing with it.
7. And finally, even with the time change (you didn't forget that, did you?), I'm seriously behind schedule with all the crap that must get done today. But before I wish you a Super Sunday, here's a few topics you can look forward to reading (or avoiding) in the coming weeks, not necessarily in this order.
1. The week went by like a flash and the evenings even faster. Monday night was the first "open" BOD meeting of the school year, and since they were discussing the budget I really wanted to be there. In hindsight I'm not sure why I thought they'd actually have one ready. I mean really, it's only the beginning of November and school's been in session for only two months, so what's the rush. Sheesh! Of course Wednesday night was Halloween and all the hoopla associated with it. Then Friday night the little man's social calendar kicked into high gear with the first of two birthday parties for the week - this one back at our local skating rink. Today's party is at Rat Hell, but I'll keep that one for a separate post of its own. And then, of course, the NaBloPoMo madness ensued. (See #2)
2. Despite Tim's total lack of confidence in me (phffft!) I've somehow managed to keep blogging every day of the month, so far. Yeah, I know! We're only on day 4, but whatever. I'm doing it. Which is more than I can say for some of the others who signed up for it. I found the NaBloPoMo randomizer and installed it on my sidebar (see it sitting over there?), so yesterday I started running it and checking out different blogs I may not have known about before. WTF? Some people haven't even started posting, some are linked to "private" blogs where you have to request access (uh, notsomuch!), and others have already given up. Losers. But getting past those, there's a few I've found enjoyment, and more importantly entertainment, in reading so I've listed them out in their own section on my sidebar (look over to the left again). I'm sure I'll keep adding more as the month goes on and, as my list grows longer, so does my feedreader.
3. Speaking of Tim (aka LA Daddy), LA Family have now welcomed the newest member of the family - LA Baby - to the wide world of wackiness. Congrats my friend! I look forward to meeting her some day, but don't get your hopes up that it'll be the day you celebrate the big 4-0!
4. Also on the celebration bandwaggon is my Super Sweet 'n Sassy Snackie who's celebrating her youthful 36 today. Make your way on over and cover her with birthday kisses. MUAH!!!
5. Friday I had other sorts of kisses in mind. Those would be of the *kiss my ass* variety. Now before I start my bitching about work, let me just make one thing clear - I love that I have a job. I'm just notsomuch in love with my job anymore. Somehow in the past two months my responsibilites have shifted so much that what they really hired me to do is now falling third on my priorities list. Why? Well, that's because they keep going through reorgs and reshuffles and downsizing and whatever other term you want to use for walking around with their heads stuck up their ass and not being able to see what the real problem is even though it's staring them right in the face. The real problem is there's not enough people to do all the work that needs to be done, yet they keep disposing of them. I am now carrying a workload of one and three-quarters persons, and before you all think I'm just complaining that they're overworking me, let me clarify. It's not the "load" that bothers me, it's how it's structured. All three main responsibilites I have are, for the most part, totally unrelated to the others. This makes it very difficult to pay full attention to any one of them, let alone the fact that I've got customers - both internal and external - screaming at me and begging me to "be expedient". Um, last time I checked I was just one person. Maybe I need to clone myself? But what good would that do? They'd still only pay one measly little salary for me. I almost walked on Friday. But I didn't. And tomorrow I'll drag my tired ass back into the firey pits of hell for another week.
6. I started my Christmas shopping. Afterall, there's only 50 shopping days left until the big day. LOL But that's not the reason I started shopping. We went to Target to pick up the kiddo's new glasses and I got a little distracted by the $1 bins. Everything's just a buck, so how can you not buy stuff. Seriously though, with giving little gifts to teachers, neighbors, and friends at work, stocking up on the inexpensive goodies as I see them is the best way to go. As it gets closer to the holiday I might tell you what I got, and what I'm doing with it.
7. And finally, even with the time change (you didn't forget that, did you?), I'm seriously behind schedule with all the crap that must get done today. But before I wish you a Super Sunday, here's a few topics you can look forward to reading (or avoiding) in the coming weeks, not necessarily in this order.
- bullying has a whole new meaning
- i've been tagged... again
- reading and writing
- lights on or off?
- embarrassing moments
- thankful
Saturday, October 27
duck & cover
I don't post much about work, and there's a good reason for that. I work with a bunch of cliquish, entitled freaks. Now don't get me wrong here. There are people that work at the same company as I do who are some of my best friends. But the group I work with - they're a whole different breed.
There's this big ass deal about safety where I work, and the safety nazis in my building really, really go overboard with it. They conduct monthly walk arounds of the cubicles making sure we are being safe. They stop you in the hallway and remind you it's corporate policy to have a lid on your drink. They politely request that you take the elevator instead of the stairs if you are carrying something in both hands. And then there's the quarterly mandatory safety audits.
During our Monday staff meeting our head safety nazi informed us we were having an earthquake drill sometime later in the week. You would have thought we were asked to prepare for the Miss America pagent or something with all the questions being asked. "What do we do if we're in a conference room?" "What if I'm in the elevator?" "What about if I'm in the shower?" "If I'm outside, where do I go?" OMFG!! Are you serious? Have you not ever participated in an earthquake drill or an actual honest to god earthquake before? As always, the safety nazis took all these questions seriously and set out to get the answers.
A couple of days later we get an email detailing what we should do if we are here or there or wherever during the drill. We were also given the day and time of the drill because, ya know, we need to plan accordingly since major disasters such as earthquakes give us time to prepare during the actual event. Uh, yeah! My favorite answer of all was to the question "What if I'm in the elevator?" If you find yourself in the elevator during the earthquake drill, wait for the elevator to reach your floor, step out of the elevator and huddle against the nearest wall holding your hands over your head. Are you serious?? Yeah, because during a real earthquake the elevator is going to function flawlessly and actually arrive at your destination. Gack!!
The day of the drill finally arrived. And so did the predetermined and announced time.
(silence)
(blink blink)
Several minutes after the scheduled time and obnoxious siren blares at ear deafening levels. And then, the voice. Someone actually droned on for several minutes providing instructions of what to do, where to go and whatever else they wanted us to hear while they had us captive under our desks, conference room tables, sinks, doorjambs, etc. And then it was over. Not a single safety nazi walked around to see if anyone was complying with the drill. WTH?
(blink blink)
There's this big ass deal about safety where I work, and the safety nazis in my building really, really go overboard with it. They conduct monthly walk arounds of the cubicles making sure we are being safe. They stop you in the hallway and remind you it's corporate policy to have a lid on your drink. They politely request that you take the elevator instead of the stairs if you are carrying something in both hands. And then there's the quarterly mandatory safety audits.
During our Monday staff meeting our head safety nazi informed us we were having an earthquake drill sometime later in the week. You would have thought we were asked to prepare for the Miss America pagent or something with all the questions being asked. "What do we do if we're in a conference room?" "What if I'm in the elevator?" "What about if I'm in the shower?" "If I'm outside, where do I go?" OMFG!! Are you serious? Have you not ever participated in an earthquake drill or an actual honest to god earthquake before? As always, the safety nazis took all these questions seriously and set out to get the answers.
A couple of days later we get an email detailing what we should do if we are here or there or wherever during the drill. We were also given the day and time of the drill because, ya know, we need to plan accordingly since major disasters such as earthquakes give us time to prepare during the actual event. Uh, yeah! My favorite answer of all was to the question "What if I'm in the elevator?" If you find yourself in the elevator during the earthquake drill, wait for the elevator to reach your floor, step out of the elevator and huddle against the nearest wall holding your hands over your head. Are you serious?? Yeah, because during a real earthquake the elevator is going to function flawlessly and actually arrive at your destination. Gack!!
The day of the drill finally arrived. And so did the predetermined and announced time.
(silence)
(blink blink)
Several minutes after the scheduled time and obnoxious siren blares at ear deafening levels. And then, the voice. Someone actually droned on for several minutes providing instructions of what to do, where to go and whatever else they wanted us to hear while they had us captive under our desks, conference room tables, sinks, doorjambs, etc. And then it was over. Not a single safety nazi walked around to see if anyone was complying with the drill. WTH?
(blink blink)
Tuesday, August 28
hello good-bye
The phone doesn't usually ring at 10:40pm at my house. Well, on occassion, but not on a Monday night. Anyway while Stace and I were vegging out watching Friday after our little arts-n-crafts time the phone rings. WTH? Guess who it was? My little man!
I knew they were flying in last night and scheduled to arrive at 9:18pm so I figured he was just calling to say they'd landed and would see me tomorrow (which is today). But no. A couple of minutes into the conversation he informs me his father is bringing him home. Right then. At almost 11:00pm which is of course 2:00am to his body. WTF??? Now don't get me wrong, I was thrilled after not seeing him for nearly two weeks, but seriously. No communication. What if I was already in bed and didn't hear the phone? What if I simply wasn't here?
He pulled up fifteen minutes to midnight and came running as fast as his feet could carry him into my arms. It was so good to hold my little man again. Then we went in and he was so surprised to see Stace he started screaming. The dog went completely ballistic and wouldn't get more than 12 inches away from him, and actually slept on the floor at the foot of WJ's bed all night. He never sleeps upstairs at night. Think he missed his boy?
So we all headed to bed a little after midnight and tried to get some quick sleep so we could get up in the morning to take Stace to the airport. With our altered plans now having to drop the kiddo at summer camp we were out the door by 7:15am, first to drop off WJ, then stop to pick-up Groove who was nice enough to drive with us so I could use the HOV lane on the way back, off to the airport, back to work, summer camp pick-up, quick stop at Safeway, and then finally home. Sheesh! Makes me tired just writing about it.
It's awfully quiet without my friend here tonight. We had so much fun!! Tons of laughter, good talks, silliness, a PS2 marathon, movies, some special arts-n-crafts (hope you guys like your stuff!), and just an all around great time. The time went by way too quickly, and it always sucks when you have to say good-bye and have no idea when you'll see each other again. I already miss you, my friend!!
As I was typing the previous paragraph Stace called (of course she did) to let me know she'd landed.
Anywho, life rolls on and the party's over for now. But I know there'll be another in the very near future.
Friday, August 24
it's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Anyone of you wonderful people looking to move? I'm looking for some new neighbors and I'd like to hand pick the best of them. I sat and watched my property value decrease last night, which may or may not be a good thing, but that's a whole other story.
I know you remember my letter to Mrs. A. If not, click here and catch up. Well the animals were uncaged again last night. Actually, they've been uncaged for the past two or three nights, but last night evil spawn child was up to his old nastiness. Hitting. And hitting a girl nonetheless. Oh yeah. Screaming in his whiney tone and then hitting another neighbor girl not once, but three times. She hit him back (hehe). But the madness didn't stop there. The fight was over who was going to drive this. That's right, a Barbie jeep. And guess who this jeep belonged to? Yup, the neighbor girl who was getting hit.
And where was Mrs. A during this outburst. She was pulling weeds in her front yard. The one time she is actually out there to witness the insanity and she does nothing. Acted as if she couldn't hear or see any of what was going on. Even when the neighbor girl told her evil spawn was hitting she just told him to sit down. That lasted all of 30 seconds when he jumped up to follow the girls into the house. Did she call him back outside? Give him a timeout? Lecture him about hitting? Of course she didn't.
But wait, there's more.
Some thirty minutes or so later all the same kids, and the same jeep, are now down at the back end of the loop we live on. In the jeep. In the middle of the road. With a pickup truck coming around the loop one way, and a minivan coming the other. And what do they do? Just sit/stand there and make the cars figure out how to get around them. Can you guess who was driving?
At that point my good neighbor was out mowing his lawn. He sees the cars, hears the kids, stops the mower and just stares down the road. Then he looks across the street at me. We both shake our heads and then have this short little conversation.
Me: "Well, I'm glad to see your daughter isn't down the street with the stoopids!"
Him: "No way!"
Me: "Yeah, cuz it's always smart for a plastic toy car to take on a pickup and minivan in the middle of the road."
Him: "When you don't have any parental guidance, what do you expect!?"
Oh, by the way, Mrs. A was still in her front yard weeding while we were yelling across the street having this conversation. She didn't even look up. I swear I think the doctor must have prescribed meds for the evil spawn, and instead of giving them to him, she's taking them herself.
But wait, there's still more.
For the past few weeks, the neighbors behind my nextdoor neighbors have decided it's okay to sit out on their patio between the hours of midnight at 2am smoking, talking, laughing, squealing and basically making too much noise. That combined with the little pug they have being chained up in the backyard barking and crying to come in at 3am has made for some not so good sleeping nights as of late.
Last night I was wiped. I actually went to bed before 10pm for the first time in weeks and was sound asleep when what do my sleepy ears hear? The noisemakers. At 1am. Normally I just shut my windows and turn on the ceiling fan to drown out the noise, but last night was so muggy there was no way I was closing myself in. So, I sat up and hollered "Shut up!"
At first they quieted down, immediately. But, of course, now I was wide awake, so I decided to get up and pee. No sooner had I gotten back into bed they're at it again, only this time louder. The exchange went something like this.
Me: "Shut up!" (more loudly this time than the first)
Them: "No! You shut up."
Me: "Some of us have to get up at 5am and don't appreciate being woken in the middle of the night."
Them: "Then shut your window."
Me: "Hell no! STFU or go inside."
Them: "Fuck you."
Me: "Whatever. Consider this your warning that I'm calling the cops."
Them: "Go ahead bitch."
With that I was more than wide awake. But they were quiet. And I assume they must have thought about it more and decided they probably didn't want the cops coming over cuz they got up, quickly put their butts out, and scrambled inside. Me? I lay down, tossed and turned for half an hour, then went downstairs to smoke a butt of my own. I think I finally fell back to sleep a little after 2am.
Won't you please?
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?
TUN (Totally Unrelated Note): Guess what today is? It's PARTY time!!! That's right, in less than 12 hours the party's starting when I pick up Stace at the airport. Woo hoo!!! I am so looking forward to having her here. Don't know what's on tap for the weekend yet, but maybe we'll make a little noise. Hehe!
TGIF!!!
Could you be mine?
Anyone of you wonderful people looking to move? I'm looking for some new neighbors and I'd like to hand pick the best of them. I sat and watched my property value decrease last night, which may or may not be a good thing, but that's a whole other story.
I know you remember my letter to Mrs. A. If not, click here and catch up. Well the animals were uncaged again last night. Actually, they've been uncaged for the past two or three nights, but last night evil spawn child was up to his old nastiness. Hitting. And hitting a girl nonetheless. Oh yeah. Screaming in his whiney tone and then hitting another neighbor girl not once, but three times. She hit him back (hehe). But the madness didn't stop there. The fight was over who was going to drive this. That's right, a Barbie jeep. And guess who this jeep belonged to? Yup, the neighbor girl who was getting hit.
And where was Mrs. A during this outburst. She was pulling weeds in her front yard. The one time she is actually out there to witness the insanity and she does nothing. Acted as if she couldn't hear or see any of what was going on. Even when the neighbor girl told her evil spawn was hitting she just told him to sit down. That lasted all of 30 seconds when he jumped up to follow the girls into the house. Did she call him back outside? Give him a timeout? Lecture him about hitting? Of course she didn't.
But wait, there's more.
Some thirty minutes or so later all the same kids, and the same jeep, are now down at the back end of the loop we live on. In the jeep. In the middle of the road. With a pickup truck coming around the loop one way, and a minivan coming the other. And what do they do? Just sit/stand there and make the cars figure out how to get around them. Can you guess who was driving?
At that point my good neighbor was out mowing his lawn. He sees the cars, hears the kids, stops the mower and just stares down the road. Then he looks across the street at me. We both shake our heads and then have this short little conversation.
Me: "Well, I'm glad to see your daughter isn't down the street with the stoopids!"
Him: "No way!"
Me: "Yeah, cuz it's always smart for a plastic toy car to take on a pickup and minivan in the middle of the road."
Him: "When you don't have any parental guidance, what do you expect!?"
Oh, by the way, Mrs. A was still in her front yard weeding while we were yelling across the street having this conversation. She didn't even look up. I swear I think the doctor must have prescribed meds for the evil spawn, and instead of giving them to him, she's taking them herself.
But wait, there's still more.
For the past few weeks, the neighbors behind my nextdoor neighbors have decided it's okay to sit out on their patio between the hours of midnight at 2am smoking, talking, laughing, squealing and basically making too much noise. That combined with the little pug they have being chained up in the backyard barking and crying to come in at 3am has made for some not so good sleeping nights as of late.
Last night I was wiped. I actually went to bed before 10pm for the first time in weeks and was sound asleep when what do my sleepy ears hear? The noisemakers. At 1am. Normally I just shut my windows and turn on the ceiling fan to drown out the noise, but last night was so muggy there was no way I was closing myself in. So, I sat up and hollered "Shut up!"
At first they quieted down, immediately. But, of course, now I was wide awake, so I decided to get up and pee. No sooner had I gotten back into bed they're at it again, only this time louder. The exchange went something like this.
Me: "Shut up!" (more loudly this time than the first)
Them: "No! You shut up."
Me: "Some of us have to get up at 5am and don't appreciate being woken in the middle of the night."
Them: "Then shut your window."
Me: "Hell no! STFU or go inside."
Them: "Fuck you."
Me: "Whatever. Consider this your warning that I'm calling the cops."
Them: "Go ahead bitch."
With that I was more than wide awake. But they were quiet. And I assume they must have thought about it more and decided they probably didn't want the cops coming over cuz they got up, quickly put their butts out, and scrambled inside. Me? I lay down, tossed and turned for half an hour, then went downstairs to smoke a butt of my own. I think I finally fell back to sleep a little after 2am.
Won't you please?
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?
TUN (Totally Unrelated Note): Guess what today is? It's PARTY time!!! That's right, in less than 12 hours the party's starting when I pick up Stace at the airport. Woo hoo!!! I am so looking forward to having her here. Don't know what's on tap for the weekend yet, but maybe we'll make a little noise. Hehe!
TGIF!!!
Saturday, August 11
kicking and screaming my way through the week
I'm still alive. Barely. Not that you could tell around here.
The past week has been bad. Really bad. And the worst part is it ain't over yet. But today I'm a little more energized, and the synapses are firing a little better. I hope to get around to catching up with what everyone's been up to for the past week or so, but first I've gotta get a lot of piled up shit taken care of around here.
So that's it. Just a quick "hello". Thank God it's Saturday!!
Be careful what you wish for, 'Cause you just might get it all. You just might get it all, And then some you don't want. Be careful what you wish for, 'Cause you just might get it all. You just might get it all, yeah. - Home, Daughtry
The past week has been bad. Really bad. And the worst part is it ain't over yet. But today I'm a little more energized, and the synapses are firing a little better. I hope to get around to catching up with what everyone's been up to for the past week or so, but first I've gotta get a lot of piled up shit taken care of around here.
So that's it. Just a quick "hello". Thank God it's Saturday!!
Be careful what you wish for, 'Cause you just might get it all. You just might get it all, And then some you don't want. Be careful what you wish for, 'Cause you just might get it all. You just might get it all, yeah. - Home, Daughtry
Saturday, July 7
hair days of summer
For weeks now I've had hair on the brain. Every morning when I fight with my unruly hair it reminds me it's time for a cut. Nothing drastic, just a reshaping really, getting all the old, dead ends taken off and the layers redone. My days of drastic hair changes are over. Afterall, who'd want to see a 40 year old woman with a mohawk? Hehe! I was thinking about coloring it again, but I'm pretty sure that'd be a big waste of money at this time of the year when being out in the sun naturally lightens my hair.
I know that because I've been thinking about making a hair appointment I'm more aware of conversations having to do with hair, but this past week's been ridiculous.
It started off with a conversation at work with one of the girls telling us about a coworker who commented on her haircut by saying "Oh, I see we've got a new 'guy' on the team!" Uh, yeah. WTF? She cut her hair really short. And, yes, she's a lesbian and doesn't get all foofy and shit, but c'mon. Why does our hair style make people want to say nasty things to us? Then this other coworker was telling us about the cafe manager stopping her in the hallway to tell her "Your order is taken care of and will be delivered at xx:xx time." She just looked at her and responded, "Huh? I'm not S. I'm K. S is the blonde." (which is funny because S is by no means blonde, but in comparison to K she's a little bit lighter). That of course prompted S to tell us she's really sick of her hair (the color, the length) and needs to do something different. Then A starts in with "I really need to get my hair cut! It's such a PITA, but my hubby doesn't like short hair." Okay, that one got me going. Since when do men get a freakin' say in how we keep our hair?? It's our hair, dammit, and until they start washing, styling and taking care of it for us they've got no damn say in what we do with it.
Then at the BBQ on the 4th the topic of hair came up again. The two teenaged neighbor boys (not brothers, just friends) are in some funky phase of growing their hair long. The hanging in your eyes, greasy, scraggly sort of long. One comes walking past the adults wearing a baseball cap. Apparently the parents finally said 'enough' and made him chop it off. LOL The other, well as of Thursday he was sporting a brand spanking new summer cut. You can actually see ears and eyes on him now.
Even my kiddo who fights me every time I make an appointment for him was looking at a picture taken at school last year when I'd gotten really lazy and hadn't had his hair cut in a couple months. Looks like he's got a mop on his head, literally. He say, "Mom, I hate that picture of me!" When I asked why he tells me his hair is too long. So I reminded him about the fit he pitches every time we go to get his hair cut and he says, "Yeah, I know. I just don't like going, but I like it when it's done." Kids!
And finally, of course, where is Stace today? Taking Michael to get his hair cut. Okay, let's all say it together now. Shocker! Uh, yeah.
So, I still haven't made a hair appointment. And I'm still not really sure what I'm gonna have done if I ever get off my ass to make one. But I'm sure until I do, the topic of hair will be floating into my life over and over again, cuz that's just the way it works for me. Sheesh!
I know that because I've been thinking about making a hair appointment I'm more aware of conversations having to do with hair, but this past week's been ridiculous.
It started off with a conversation at work with one of the girls telling us about a coworker who commented on her haircut by saying "Oh, I see we've got a new 'guy' on the team!" Uh, yeah. WTF? She cut her hair really short. And, yes, she's a lesbian and doesn't get all foofy and shit, but c'mon. Why does our hair style make people want to say nasty things to us? Then this other coworker was telling us about the cafe manager stopping her in the hallway to tell her "Your order is taken care of and will be delivered at xx:xx time." She just looked at her and responded, "Huh? I'm not S. I'm K. S is the blonde." (which is funny because S is by no means blonde, but in comparison to K she's a little bit lighter). That of course prompted S to tell us she's really sick of her hair (the color, the length) and needs to do something different. Then A starts in with "I really need to get my hair cut! It's such a PITA, but my hubby doesn't like short hair." Okay, that one got me going. Since when do men get a freakin' say in how we keep our hair?? It's our hair, dammit, and until they start washing, styling and taking care of it for us they've got no damn say in what we do with it.
Then at the BBQ on the 4th the topic of hair came up again. The two teenaged neighbor boys (not brothers, just friends) are in some funky phase of growing their hair long. The hanging in your eyes, greasy, scraggly sort of long. One comes walking past the adults wearing a baseball cap. Apparently the parents finally said 'enough' and made him chop it off. LOL The other, well as of Thursday he was sporting a brand spanking new summer cut. You can actually see ears and eyes on him now.
Even my kiddo who fights me every time I make an appointment for him was looking at a picture taken at school last year when I'd gotten really lazy and hadn't had his hair cut in a couple months. Looks like he's got a mop on his head, literally. He say, "Mom, I hate that picture of me!" When I asked why he tells me his hair is too long. So I reminded him about the fit he pitches every time we go to get his hair cut and he says, "Yeah, I know. I just don't like going, but I like it when it's done." Kids!
And finally, of course, where is Stace today? Taking Michael to get his hair cut. Okay, let's all say it together now. Shocker! Uh, yeah.
So, I still haven't made a hair appointment. And I'm still not really sure what I'm gonna have done if I ever get off my ass to make one. But I'm sure until I do, the topic of hair will be floating into my life over and over again, cuz that's just the way it works for me. Sheesh!
Saturday, June 30
what was it I was just saying?
What was that I was saying the other day? Something about not having anything to write about? Uh... yeah. You'd think I'd learn my lesson about posting stuff like that. But noooo! I had to go and open that can of worms. Didn't I?
First, thanks to all of you who not only read my whining but actually left me comments and suggestions. You gave me the warm fuzzies because frankly I figured ya'll probaby gave up on me and got tired of coming over here to see nothing new. You like me! You really like me!!
Anyway, as my life goes, whenever I lay things out on the line, like saying there was nothing worth writing about, all sorts of things just start gelling. Take yesterday for example. During my lunch break not one but two blog worthy stories came up during conversations with co-workers. I was really excited to come home, get the normal shit of the day done, and plunk myself down in front of the computer to write. Except life had other plans for me. So these two stories and using some of the suggestions from my adoring fans will have to wait for another day. Today I tell you about my Friday night adventure at home.
It started off as a typical Friday evening - leave work, drive home through the massive downpour that decided to come down right in the middle of rush hour causing traffic to back up for miles in both directions of the Interstate, pick up the kiddo, hang with him for awhile, then yak on the phone with my girl Stace. Sounds boring enough, eh? Well don't run off yet. This is where it gets good. Or bad. It all depends on how you look at it.
If I'm not roaming around the house doing laundry or cleaning up the kitchen I'm usually pacing between the garage and the living room when I'm talking on the phone. I hang outside smoking then retreat to the quiet of the living room for awhile so I don't have to listen to the teevee and play noises. Anyway, last night I was sitting on the sofa in the living room. It runs the length of the long wall and faces the wall of the front door entry with the actual front door to the left. As we're yakking about whatever something caught my eye - the trim around the front door. From my position on the sofa something looked amiss. Like the trim, or the door, was warped or something. And no I wasn't drunk. I was only on my first beer.
I stood up and walked to the door for closer inspection and as I approached I realized that the entire door frame where the chain lock is attached and draped over to the front door was pulled out from the wall. WTF? Completely off the wall. So far off the wall that the tiny little nails used to hold it up had about a quarter inch between the ends of them and the backside of the trim. At this point I interrupt whatever Stace is saying and tell her what I'm looking at. It completely baffled me because 1) my parents were just here for a week so there was always someone around the house during the entire day and night and if they'd had any mishaps with the front door they not only would have told me, but would have made sure it was fixed better than it'd been before they left to go back home, 2) we rarely ever use the front door since I park the car in the garage and we just come in through the laundry room, and 3) with a dog like my Jake, someone would have to really want in bad to go through the trouble of trying to get past him.
With no damage to the door, inside or out, and the door being double locked (deadbolt and all), and the chain still attached to both the trim and the door, it was baffling. Besides me, there are only three others who have a key to the house - my parents (previously exhonerated), my neighbor who was watching my kiddo all week before and after summer camp, and my ex (long story why, and not something I'll discuss here). So I asked WJ if they (him, the neighbor, the neighbor's kids, or any or all of the above) had tried to get into the house at all during the day while I was at work. Nope. Wasn't them. So that left only two other options. The ex, or someone who somehow got a key to my house or knows how to pick a lock AND relock the door when they're done.
At this point Stace suggests that I call the police. I debated on this one for two reasons. First, I hate calling the police because you always have to call the 911 number and then explain that's it's not "really" an emergency as emergencies are classified but that you really do need to talk to someone or you wouldn't have called them in the first place. I wish they had a non-emergency number for situations like this. And second, I'd already been home for like 2 hours when I'd discovered this and being that I was fine, WJ was fine, and nothing seemed to be missing from the house it seemed a little strange to get the police involved. Despite my reservations I called them. And you know what? They showed up maybe 5 minutes later. Impressive.
So now that this post has gotten way longer than I ever intended it to be, here's how the rest of it played out. The officer listened to my story, took pics, and said he was going to call my ex to see if he'd tried to get into the house for some reason. If he had, I was told I should explain the "rules" to him about entering the house univited, and if that didn't work, I should file a restraining order. Uh, yeah! If he says he didn't, it was suggested I have the locks changed and I would be assigned a case number as a victim of potential break-in.
Can you guess what happened? Here, let me give you a hint. Sometime between the two birthday parties we have to go to this weekend and all the usual laundry, house cleaning, etc. that is always on the schedule, I now have to either go to one of the big box home improvement stores to buy new locks and try to figure out how in the hell to install them, or I'll be calling a locksmith.
This really wasn't the sort of interesting blog worthy writing I was looking for, but hey. Whatever works, eh?
First, thanks to all of you who not only read my whining but actually left me comments and suggestions. You gave me the warm fuzzies because frankly I figured ya'll probaby gave up on me and got tired of coming over here to see nothing new. You like me! You really like me!!
Anyway, as my life goes, whenever I lay things out on the line, like saying there was nothing worth writing about, all sorts of things just start gelling. Take yesterday for example. During my lunch break not one but two blog worthy stories came up during conversations with co-workers. I was really excited to come home, get the normal shit of the day done, and plunk myself down in front of the computer to write. Except life had other plans for me. So these two stories and using some of the suggestions from my adoring fans will have to wait for another day. Today I tell you about my Friday night adventure at home.
It started off as a typical Friday evening - leave work, drive home through the massive downpour that decided to come down right in the middle of rush hour causing traffic to back up for miles in both directions of the Interstate, pick up the kiddo, hang with him for awhile, then yak on the phone with my girl Stace. Sounds boring enough, eh? Well don't run off yet. This is where it gets good. Or bad. It all depends on how you look at it.
If I'm not roaming around the house doing laundry or cleaning up the kitchen I'm usually pacing between the garage and the living room when I'm talking on the phone. I hang outside smoking then retreat to the quiet of the living room for awhile so I don't have to listen to the teevee and play noises. Anyway, last night I was sitting on the sofa in the living room. It runs the length of the long wall and faces the wall of the front door entry with the actual front door to the left. As we're yakking about whatever something caught my eye - the trim around the front door. From my position on the sofa something looked amiss. Like the trim, or the door, was warped or something. And no I wasn't drunk. I was only on my first beer.
I stood up and walked to the door for closer inspection and as I approached I realized that the entire door frame where the chain lock is attached and draped over to the front door was pulled out from the wall. WTF? Completely off the wall. So far off the wall that the tiny little nails used to hold it up had about a quarter inch between the ends of them and the backside of the trim. At this point I interrupt whatever Stace is saying and tell her what I'm looking at. It completely baffled me because 1) my parents were just here for a week so there was always someone around the house during the entire day and night and if they'd had any mishaps with the front door they not only would have told me, but would have made sure it was fixed better than it'd been before they left to go back home, 2) we rarely ever use the front door since I park the car in the garage and we just come in through the laundry room, and 3) with a dog like my Jake, someone would have to really want in bad to go through the trouble of trying to get past him.
With no damage to the door, inside or out, and the door being double locked (deadbolt and all), and the chain still attached to both the trim and the door, it was baffling. Besides me, there are only three others who have a key to the house - my parents (previously exhonerated), my neighbor who was watching my kiddo all week before and after summer camp, and my ex (long story why, and not something I'll discuss here). So I asked WJ if they (him, the neighbor, the neighbor's kids, or any or all of the above) had tried to get into the house at all during the day while I was at work. Nope. Wasn't them. So that left only two other options. The ex, or someone who somehow got a key to my house or knows how to pick a lock AND relock the door when they're done.
At this point Stace suggests that I call the police. I debated on this one for two reasons. First, I hate calling the police because you always have to call the 911 number and then explain that's it's not "really" an emergency as emergencies are classified but that you really do need to talk to someone or you wouldn't have called them in the first place. I wish they had a non-emergency number for situations like this. And second, I'd already been home for like 2 hours when I'd discovered this and being that I was fine, WJ was fine, and nothing seemed to be missing from the house it seemed a little strange to get the police involved. Despite my reservations I called them. And you know what? They showed up maybe 5 minutes later. Impressive.
So now that this post has gotten way longer than I ever intended it to be, here's how the rest of it played out. The officer listened to my story, took pics, and said he was going to call my ex to see if he'd tried to get into the house for some reason. If he had, I was told I should explain the "rules" to him about entering the house univited, and if that didn't work, I should file a restraining order. Uh, yeah! If he says he didn't, it was suggested I have the locks changed and I would be assigned a case number as a victim of potential break-in.
Can you guess what happened? Here, let me give you a hint. Sometime between the two birthday parties we have to go to this weekend and all the usual laundry, house cleaning, etc. that is always on the schedule, I now have to either go to one of the big box home improvement stores to buy new locks and try to figure out how in the hell to install them, or I'll be calling a locksmith.
This really wasn't the sort of interesting blog worthy writing I was looking for, but hey. Whatever works, eh?
Monday, April 9
an open letter to my neighbor previously identified as Mrs. A
Dear Mrs. A,
When you and your family first moved into our comfortable little neighborhood, I was happy to see you had children around the same age as my son. After getting to know you a bit better during one of our neighborhood gatherings, and watching your lackadaisical parenting style, I knew it would be up to me to sit outside and monitor the kids activities. Watching your son run amok through the neighborhood without any restriction, guidance, or discipline frustrated me. But he is your son, not mine; so I didn't say a word. Hearing him screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs when he doesn't get his way, is trying to get someones attention, or otherwise just exercising his lungs makes my hairs stand on end. But again, he is your son, not mine; I didn't say a word. As summer ended and outdoor playtime came in irregular intervals due to school schedules and changes in the weather, I breathed a sigh of relief.
During our first snow "storm", when all the kids got to stay home from school, we ran into each other at the park. The kids were having a blast sledding down the hills as we stood there making small talk -- afterall, what else is there to say when you don't know someone really well and don't have a very high opinion of them in the first place. You volunteered to build a snowman with the kids and told me if there was something I needed, or wanted, to do, I should do it. So I headed back to the house for a bit. When I returned, you were nowhere to be found. That may be fine for you and your kids, but you offered to watch mine too. And you weren't watching him at all.
Last week we enjoyed a couple days of gorgeous weather. Who wouldn't want to be outside on days like that? When WJ saw many of the neighborhood kids playing in your front yard, I encouraged him to join them hoping that your obnoxious brat of a son would have grown up and mellowed out a bit. WJ was excited to share his new football and took it across the street to play. You probably didn't see me sitting in my garage enjoying the sunny day, but I saw, and heard, you.
Your first mistake was telling my kid that nobody wanted to play football because they were playing freeze tag. How the hell do you know what they want to play? Obviously you were wrong since everyone except for the quiet child of Mrs. C wanted to play. But he wasn't playing freeze tag either -- just laying on the grass watching all the kids play, as usual. So he got up, and went inside.
Within the first five minutes of play I'd heard enough of your whiney offspring to push me into the next millenium. In case you haven't told him, you might start with "The world doesn't revolve around you and no one wants to hear your big ass mouth, so shut it!" The rest of the kids seemed to be having a great time tossing the football around. Even you seemed to be having fun. What happened next I can't believe any mature, intelligent adult would do.
After sending the evil spawn in to check on the "I'm going to isolate myself from the group" child, he apparently didn't come out of the house fast enough to suit you. So you went in to see what they were up to and to try to coax them to come back outside to play. Finally a smart move on your part. What wasn't so smart was to take my kid's new football with you despite him calling after you asking you to give it to him. Last time I checked, you weren't deaf. But maybe you've shoved the earplugs so far in your ears from having to listen to the ear deafening volume pouring out of your spawn that you couldn't hear the pleas from my son for the return is HIS new football.
As you lingered inside, my son still calling through the screen door for his ball, the girls (being girlish at times) ran off and left WJ standing alone in your front yard. Without his football. I'd seen more than enough at this point and called for him to get his ball, even if it meant walking into your house and ripping it out of your hands, and to come home. After ringing the doorbell at least 3 times, and persistently calling you through the screen door, you finally managed to return what was never rightfully yours to take away. It's no wonder your children act like maniacs. With parenting skills as half-assed as yours, I'm surprised they haven't killed each other yet.
I am writing to inform you that my son WILL NOT be playing with your animals any longer. NEVER again take my son's toys while you work out issues created from inaction on your part. And, in case you're wondering -- when you get that sense that someone's watching -- it's me.
Sincerely,
Your "unsocial" neighbor
When you and your family first moved into our comfortable little neighborhood, I was happy to see you had children around the same age as my son. After getting to know you a bit better during one of our neighborhood gatherings, and watching your lackadaisical parenting style, I knew it would be up to me to sit outside and monitor the kids activities. Watching your son run amok through the neighborhood without any restriction, guidance, or discipline frustrated me. But he is your son, not mine; so I didn't say a word. Hearing him screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs when he doesn't get his way, is trying to get someones attention, or otherwise just exercising his lungs makes my hairs stand on end. But again, he is your son, not mine; I didn't say a word. As summer ended and outdoor playtime came in irregular intervals due to school schedules and changes in the weather, I breathed a sigh of relief.
During our first snow "storm", when all the kids got to stay home from school, we ran into each other at the park. The kids were having a blast sledding down the hills as we stood there making small talk -- afterall, what else is there to say when you don't know someone really well and don't have a very high opinion of them in the first place. You volunteered to build a snowman with the kids and told me if there was something I needed, or wanted, to do, I should do it. So I headed back to the house for a bit. When I returned, you were nowhere to be found. That may be fine for you and your kids, but you offered to watch mine too. And you weren't watching him at all.
Last week we enjoyed a couple days of gorgeous weather. Who wouldn't want to be outside on days like that? When WJ saw many of the neighborhood kids playing in your front yard, I encouraged him to join them hoping that your obnoxious brat of a son would have grown up and mellowed out a bit. WJ was excited to share his new football and took it across the street to play. You probably didn't see me sitting in my garage enjoying the sunny day, but I saw, and heard, you.
Your first mistake was telling my kid that nobody wanted to play football because they were playing freeze tag. How the hell do you know what they want to play? Obviously you were wrong since everyone except for the quiet child of Mrs. C wanted to play. But he wasn't playing freeze tag either -- just laying on the grass watching all the kids play, as usual. So he got up, and went inside.
Within the first five minutes of play I'd heard enough of your whiney offspring to push me into the next millenium. In case you haven't told him, you might start with "The world doesn't revolve around you and no one wants to hear your big ass mouth, so shut it!" The rest of the kids seemed to be having a great time tossing the football around. Even you seemed to be having fun. What happened next I can't believe any mature, intelligent adult would do.
After sending the evil spawn in to check on the "I'm going to isolate myself from the group" child, he apparently didn't come out of the house fast enough to suit you. So you went in to see what they were up to and to try to coax them to come back outside to play. Finally a smart move on your part. What wasn't so smart was to take my kid's new football with you despite him calling after you asking you to give it to him. Last time I checked, you weren't deaf. But maybe you've shoved the earplugs so far in your ears from having to listen to the ear deafening volume pouring out of your spawn that you couldn't hear the pleas from my son for the return is HIS new football.
As you lingered inside, my son still calling through the screen door for his ball, the girls (being girlish at times) ran off and left WJ standing alone in your front yard. Without his football. I'd seen more than enough at this point and called for him to get his ball, even if it meant walking into your house and ripping it out of your hands, and to come home. After ringing the doorbell at least 3 times, and persistently calling you through the screen door, you finally managed to return what was never rightfully yours to take away. It's no wonder your children act like maniacs. With parenting skills as half-assed as yours, I'm surprised they haven't killed each other yet.
I am writing to inform you that my son WILL NOT be playing with your animals any longer. NEVER again take my son's toys while you work out issues created from inaction on your part. And, in case you're wondering -- when you get that sense that someone's watching -- it's me.
Sincerely,
Your "unsocial" neighbor
Wednesday, April 4
wow, it's wednesday again?
Apparently I opened my mouth and inserted my foot! And other (un)employment updates.
Remember I told you I'd emailed the hiring manager from last week's interview? Well, I got a response from her yesterday, and my big mouth screwed me out of a job. In all fairness it was a trick question. But aren't they all? Here's what she had to say.
In my defense I did not state a preference for working independently. The question was posed as "Do you like working independently or in a group?" As with all the other questions asked, I started at the beginning and worked my way through. In order. I stated that I appreciated working independently on certain things and that working in a group also has its benefits. Notsomuch the answer they were looking for I guess. Damn!
Yesterday I went to our local WorkSource office for my randomly selected job search log review. Basically what that translates to is we want to see if you're really applying for work, or just sitting on your ass collecting unemployment. While I was there they put in a referral for me. What does that mean? It means I have to go online, complete yet another stupid application, then submit that and a resume to an unnamed company paying a measly bullshit hourly wage and then go and talk to them if they want to interview me. Oh, and this has to be done within 48 hours. And I have to report back to the dude I met with yesterday. I swear I feel like I'm in Kindergarten.
This afternoon I have an interview. I cold called this guy last Friday. He called Monday and we're meeting today. If anything comes of it I'll tell you the whole story of finding him. But for now, cross something, light candles, or work whatever mojo you think might get me a freakin' job. I'd really appreciate it!
Why is it nothing can ever just easily work?
C & D came over yesterday morning to help me install the new to me dishwasher I picked up a couple weeks ago. All was going smoothly -- read as, we didn't have water flooding the kitchen after detaching the pipes, and no one got electrocuted while taking the wiring apart. We lugged the old machine out to the garage, brought the new one in, and... where the hell is the water "out" connector? After digging around online, we finally found where the hose would connect. But will the hose I already have work? Of course not! The one requires some special jiggy to attach to the dishwasher, and not only do I not have the special jiggy, I don't know whether the hose I currently have will be able to attach to it because I have no idea wth the special jiggy looks like. Ugh!
C put a call in to the dishwasher's original owners. Far as I know, she hasn't heard back from them yet. D told me to check with Lowe's for parts. I did. They don't have them. So, this morning I'll be calling around town to see if anyone has what I need, assuming they even know what I need and that I've gotten the correct part numbers jotted down from the skematics online. In the meantime, dishes are once again piling up in my sink. Anyone want to come wash them for me?
No, really. Safety at school isn't a concern. Not at all.
An email started circulating yesterday, along with a lot of gossip. What was all the hubbub? Oh, nothing much. Just that there was a threat made by a 9 year old child to shoot two of his classmates. In mid-January. Um, hello!?!?! WTF? And we are just now hearing about this???
The kid was sent home that day, and was not allowed back to school the following day. That was it. No extensive suspension. No expulsion. No mention of this to anyone other than the parents of the kid who made the threat. Not even the parents of the girls who were threatened were told until one of the girls just happened to mention it. Two days later! Again. WTF?? The principal "lawyered up". The girls' parents went to the police. They boy's parents refused to let them talk to him. The board said it would be discussed at the next meeting. In February. It wasn't. And not again in March.
There's a ton of people who're hoppin' mad about this one. Pissed even. Then there's people who seem to think the school acted accordingly and dealt with the issue. I know there are always two sides to a story. But come on. How is sweeping this under the carpet and not even following through with what you say you're going to do appropriate? It's not. I was telling Groove about this last night, and suffice it to say, we agreed to disagree. He asked me what I really wanted out of this, and I paused to think. Accountability. That's what I want. Is that so wrong?
Have you ever been in this situation? What happened? How did your school handle things?
Ending on a good note!!
Only two more weeks till party time! YEE-FREAKIN-HAW!!!!
Remember I told you I'd emailed the hiring manager from last week's interview? Well, I got a response from her yesterday, and my big mouth screwed me out of a job. In all fairness it was a trick question. But aren't they all? Here's what she had to say.
First I would like to say that you should be very proud of yourself for going as far as you did in the interview process. We had 80 applicants for this position and it was a very long process narrowing the applicants down to 10 for the interviews. You did a wonderful job in your interview also.
Our Human Resources Department gave us the questions to ask based on what our job description was and we had to score each candidates responses to the questions. There were three tiers on the scoring section. One section was regarding your preference in working independently or close working relationships. Your first response was that you enjoyed working independently and had great satisfaction in doing so. This position would require you to work as a team in a close-knit work group.
In my defense I did not state a preference for working independently. The question was posed as "Do you like working independently or in a group?" As with all the other questions asked, I started at the beginning and worked my way through. In order. I stated that I appreciated working independently on certain things and that working in a group also has its benefits. Notsomuch the answer they were looking for I guess. Damn!
Yesterday I went to our local WorkSource office for my randomly selected job search log review. Basically what that translates to is we want to see if you're really applying for work, or just sitting on your ass collecting unemployment. While I was there they put in a referral for me. What does that mean? It means I have to go online, complete yet another stupid application, then submit that and a resume to an unnamed company paying a measly bullshit hourly wage and then go and talk to them if they want to interview me. Oh, and this has to be done within 48 hours. And I have to report back to the dude I met with yesterday. I swear I feel like I'm in Kindergarten.
This afternoon I have an interview. I cold called this guy last Friday. He called Monday and we're meeting today. If anything comes of it I'll tell you the whole story of finding him. But for now, cross something, light candles, or work whatever mojo you think might get me a freakin' job. I'd really appreciate it!
Why is it nothing can ever just easily work?
C & D came over yesterday morning to help me install the new to me dishwasher I picked up a couple weeks ago. All was going smoothly -- read as, we didn't have water flooding the kitchen after detaching the pipes, and no one got electrocuted while taking the wiring apart. We lugged the old machine out to the garage, brought the new one in, and... where the hell is the water "out" connector? After digging around online, we finally found where the hose would connect. But will the hose I already have work? Of course not! The one requires some special jiggy to attach to the dishwasher, and not only do I not have the special jiggy, I don't know whether the hose I currently have will be able to attach to it because I have no idea wth the special jiggy looks like. Ugh!
C put a call in to the dishwasher's original owners. Far as I know, she hasn't heard back from them yet. D told me to check with Lowe's for parts. I did. They don't have them. So, this morning I'll be calling around town to see if anyone has what I need, assuming they even know what I need and that I've gotten the correct part numbers jotted down from the skematics online. In the meantime, dishes are once again piling up in my sink. Anyone want to come wash them for me?
No, really. Safety at school isn't a concern. Not at all.
An email started circulating yesterday, along with a lot of gossip. What was all the hubbub? Oh, nothing much. Just that there was a threat made by a 9 year old child to shoot two of his classmates. In mid-January. Um, hello!?!?! WTF? And we are just now hearing about this???
The kid was sent home that day, and was not allowed back to school the following day. That was it. No extensive suspension. No expulsion. No mention of this to anyone other than the parents of the kid who made the threat. Not even the parents of the girls who were threatened were told until one of the girls just happened to mention it. Two days later! Again. WTF?? The principal "lawyered up". The girls' parents went to the police. They boy's parents refused to let them talk to him. The board said it would be discussed at the next meeting. In February. It wasn't. And not again in March.
There's a ton of people who're hoppin' mad about this one. Pissed even. Then there's people who seem to think the school acted accordingly and dealt with the issue. I know there are always two sides to a story. But come on. How is sweeping this under the carpet and not even following through with what you say you're going to do appropriate? It's not. I was telling Groove about this last night, and suffice it to say, we agreed to disagree. He asked me what I really wanted out of this, and I paused to think. Accountability. That's what I want. Is that so wrong?
Have you ever been in this situation? What happened? How did your school handle things?
Ending on a good note!!
Only two more weeks till party time! YEE-FREAKIN-HAW!!!!
Friday, March 30
when the shit hits the fan, or the sidewalk in this case
First, I just want to say thanks to all of you (those who commented and those who contacted me privately) for your support yesterday! I am much better today though still jobless and have jumped back on the search trail applying to a whopping 7 job listings today. Yay me! I also emailed the hiring manager to see if I can get any info on why I was passed over, and my friend who knows her is contacting her as well. If I get any insight, I'll be sure to let you know.
In the meantime, let's talk shit. Really. I'm talking big shit. The size of road apples shit. Shit coming from the Rottweiler that lives two doors down from me. The same seriously mean ass dog that gets out of his yard, comes into my front yard, and has the audacity to growl at me as if I have no business being out in front of my own home.
But let's get back to the shit.
The other day I saw the freaky teenager who shares the house with the aforementioned and the Rottweiler stroll past the house on the way back to theirs. This is the same freak that used to come into my garage and steal my cigarettes until I staked out the garage one afternoon armed with my camera as he and his equally freaky friend tried their little rip off one too many times. Yeah. Nice neighbors, huh? Again I digress.
So the kid and dog pass the house. A short time later I go outside and what do I see gracing the sidewalk between my next door neighbor and I? Dog shit. By the way, this is the same neighbor that the Rottweiler broke through the fence and went into their yard terrifying the non-English speaking female of the house and making her little drop kick dog pee the floor in utter fear.
Are you seeing a pattern here?
Back to the shit. That's really what this is all about.
These things are truly the size of road apples, so there's no mistaking whose dog they came out of. And there's absolutely NO WAY if you're out walking that monster you could NOT notice him dropping them. I mean really. What gets me is this is not the first, or second, or even third time this has happened. It happens, in fact, on a regular basis. And, frankly, I'm sick of it.
What can I do? I've conjured up ideas of collecting the shit, brown baggin' it, and setting it in front of their door as I light it up for their enjoyment. I've pictured what it would be like to place the shit under their car tires so when they drive out they run over it, spreading it all over their car and driveway. But, in all honesty, I refuse to go pick up someone elses dog shit. Lord knows I've got enough of my own dog shit in the backyard that needs to be picked up.
So, what's left? What would you do in this situation?
I'm truly fed up with this shit!
In the meantime, let's talk shit. Really. I'm talking big shit. The size of road apples shit. Shit coming from the Rottweiler that lives two doors down from me. The same seriously mean ass dog that gets out of his yard, comes into my front yard, and has the audacity to growl at me as if I have no business being out in front of my own home.
But let's get back to the shit.
The other day I saw the freaky teenager who shares the house with the aforementioned and the Rottweiler stroll past the house on the way back to theirs. This is the same freak that used to come into my garage and steal my cigarettes until I staked out the garage one afternoon armed with my camera as he and his equally freaky friend tried their little rip off one too many times. Yeah. Nice neighbors, huh? Again I digress.
So the kid and dog pass the house. A short time later I go outside and what do I see gracing the sidewalk between my next door neighbor and I? Dog shit. By the way, this is the same neighbor that the Rottweiler broke through the fence and went into their yard terrifying the non-English speaking female of the house and making her little drop kick dog pee the floor in utter fear.
Are you seeing a pattern here?
Back to the shit. That's really what this is all about.
These things are truly the size of road apples, so there's no mistaking whose dog they came out of. And there's absolutely NO WAY if you're out walking that monster you could NOT notice him dropping them. I mean really. What gets me is this is not the first, or second, or even third time this has happened. It happens, in fact, on a regular basis. And, frankly, I'm sick of it.
What can I do? I've conjured up ideas of collecting the shit, brown baggin' it, and setting it in front of their door as I light it up for their enjoyment. I've pictured what it would be like to place the shit under their car tires so when they drive out they run over it, spreading it all over their car and driveway. But, in all honesty, I refuse to go pick up someone elses dog shit. Lord knows I've got enough of my own dog shit in the backyard that needs to be picked up.
So, what's left? What would you do in this situation?
I'm truly fed up with this shit!
Thursday, March 29
anyone know any voodoo to break this damn curse hanging over me?
I called it. I hexed myself right out of a job. Damn! I was so sure this would be the one. What's got me baffled is why? I fit all the qualifications, was asked to complete an additional essay questionnaire, was called in for the interview, was backed by a friend who works for the State and knows the hiring manager, the interview went smoothly. I was told they'd hoped to have their decision made by next Wednesday and then today... BLAM!! Hit upside the head again. Not chosen.
WTF is wrong with me? Can anyone tell me??
I'm seriously in a funk over this one.
Beer is my friend. Want one? I'm willing to share.
WTF is wrong with me? Can anyone tell me??
I'm seriously in a funk over this one.
Beer is my friend. Want one? I'm willing to share.
Saturday, March 24
enough
My girl Stacie just got home from a trip to Florida. Her first airplane travel toting both of the little ones along. On the way there she had more than enough hands to help "pass the baby" since she was traveling with her parents and sister. But, on the way back---flying solo. And ya know what? Her kids ROCKED! Why? Because she knows what she's doing and is one helluva ROCKIN' mom!
We spend countless hours talking about our kids. Yeah, I know. Boring to some. That's just what we do. But here's the deal. Our kids are SO damn good that when they do something just a little wrong, it seems like a big freakin' deal. It's not really---in comparison to other kids---but in comparison to their normal behavior. Whoa! Oddly enough it usually means something else is coming down the pipeline. Like sickness.
Anyway, we've talked about those kids (and families) you see on Super Nanny. If you've ever watched the show, you know what I'm talkin' about. Monsters. But why? Is it really the kids fault. I don't think so, at least not for the most part. It's the parents. Kids act the way they're taught, or allowed. And if parents don't hand out the crackdown---well, WTF do you expect?
Last night I was flipping channels on the boob tube looking for something to zone out to and found 20/20. It was a special John Stossel report called Enough and had detailed reports on the high cost of sneakers, people having bunches of kids without being married, and the one thing related to my rambling thus far, noisy kids. You really should watch this video.
In case you don't bother watching it, here's the basic story. Mom takes kids to restaurant. Kids behave badly. Really badly---climing on the walls, literally. Mom ignores the behavior. Restaurant owner lets them finish their food, then asks mom to not bring the kids to his restaurant anymore. Restaurant owner later posts a sign on the front door saying something like "Patrons of all ages eating at the restaurant should bring their quiet, indoor voices when walking through the doors". And---shocker, I know---everyone's got an opinion.
The simple fact is this parent allowed her kids to run around screaming, throwing things, climbing the walls, etc. As a parent, I'm appalled. Even if I wasn't a parent I'd be pissed as hell if I were trying to enjoy my meal and there was 'playground behavior' going on around me. Ultimately the restaurant owner took major flak from some, but also got overwhelming support from others.
So, what do you think? Is it the kids fault they behave badly, or is it the parents? And which side of the fence would you choose---supporting the restaurant owner, or never eating there again?
We spend countless hours talking about our kids. Yeah, I know. Boring to some. That's just what we do. But here's the deal. Our kids are SO damn good that when they do something just a little wrong, it seems like a big freakin' deal. It's not really---in comparison to other kids---but in comparison to their normal behavior. Whoa! Oddly enough it usually means something else is coming down the pipeline. Like sickness.
Anyway, we've talked about those kids (and families) you see on Super Nanny. If you've ever watched the show, you know what I'm talkin' about. Monsters. But why? Is it really the kids fault. I don't think so, at least not for the most part. It's the parents. Kids act the way they're taught, or allowed. And if parents don't hand out the crackdown---well, WTF do you expect?
Last night I was flipping channels on the boob tube looking for something to zone out to and found 20/20. It was a special John Stossel report called Enough and had detailed reports on the high cost of sneakers, people having bunches of kids without being married, and the one thing related to my rambling thus far, noisy kids. You really should watch this video.
In case you don't bother watching it, here's the basic story. Mom takes kids to restaurant. Kids behave badly. Really badly---climing on the walls, literally. Mom ignores the behavior. Restaurant owner lets them finish their food, then asks mom to not bring the kids to his restaurant anymore. Restaurant owner later posts a sign on the front door saying something like "Patrons of all ages eating at the restaurant should bring their quiet, indoor voices when walking through the doors". And---shocker, I know---everyone's got an opinion.
The simple fact is this parent allowed her kids to run around screaming, throwing things, climbing the walls, etc. As a parent, I'm appalled. Even if I wasn't a parent I'd be pissed as hell if I were trying to enjoy my meal and there was 'playground behavior' going on around me. Ultimately the restaurant owner took major flak from some, but also got overwhelming support from others.
So, what do you think? Is it the kids fault they behave badly, or is it the parents? And which side of the fence would you choose---supporting the restaurant owner, or never eating there again?
Tuesday, March 6
another silly meme
Stolen from Stacie who stole it from Freak Magnet’s blog.
YOUR REAL NAME: Lisa
YOUR GANGSTA NAME (1st 4 letters plus izzle): Lisaizzle
YOUR DETECTIVE NAME (fave color + fave animal): Black Tiger
YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name + childhood street): Ann Edmonds
YOUR STAR WARS NAME (last 3 letters of your last name + first 2 letters of your first name + first 3 letters of Mom’s maiden name): Ipplibir (WTH???)
YOUR SUPER HERO NAME (2nd fave color + fave drink): Red Coffee
YOUR IRAQI NAME (2nd letter of your first name + 3rd letter of your last name + any letter of your middle name + 2nd letter of your Mom’s maiden name + 3rd letter of your Dad’s middle name + 1st letter of a sibling’s first name + last letter of your Mom’s middle name): Ipniina (oh good lord! or should I say good allah!!)
YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM NAME (Grandma/Grandpa’s first name + Jones): Myrtle Jones
YOUR GOTH NAME (Black + name of one of your pets): Black Jake
YOUR AMERICAN IDOL NAME (fav car and sea food) Xterra Shrimp
NAME OF YOUR DREAM BAND (name of computer + printer): Kookoo E. Stylus
MOVIE STAR NAME (sibling’s middle name + mother-in-law’s maiden name): Non Henry (non for don't have any siblings and using EX-mil's maiden name)
YOUR ALTER EGO NAME (name of one your childhood pets + popular brand of clothes when you were young): Cricket Izod
YOUR LAWYER NAME (fav actor’s last name + fav hard liquor): McConaughey Whiskey
YOUR HIP HOP NAME (fav candy + fruit): Chocolate Apple
YOUR REAL NAME: Lisa
YOUR GANGSTA NAME (1st 4 letters plus izzle): Lisaizzle
YOUR DETECTIVE NAME (fave color + fave animal): Black Tiger
YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name + childhood street): Ann Edmonds
YOUR STAR WARS NAME (last 3 letters of your last name + first 2 letters of your first name + first 3 letters of Mom’s maiden name): Ipplibir (WTH???)
YOUR SUPER HERO NAME (2nd fave color + fave drink): Red Coffee
YOUR IRAQI NAME (2nd letter of your first name + 3rd letter of your last name + any letter of your middle name + 2nd letter of your Mom’s maiden name + 3rd letter of your Dad’s middle name + 1st letter of a sibling’s first name + last letter of your Mom’s middle name): Ipniina (oh good lord! or should I say good allah!!)
YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM NAME (Grandma/Grandpa’s first name + Jones): Myrtle Jones
YOUR GOTH NAME (Black + name of one of your pets): Black Jake
YOUR AMERICAN IDOL NAME (fav car and sea food) Xterra Shrimp
NAME OF YOUR DREAM BAND (name of computer + printer): Kookoo E. Stylus
MOVIE STAR NAME (sibling’s middle name + mother-in-law’s maiden name): Non Henry (non for don't have any siblings and using EX-mil's maiden name)
YOUR ALTER EGO NAME (name of one your childhood pets + popular brand of clothes when you were young): Cricket Izod
YOUR LAWYER NAME (fav actor’s last name + fav hard liquor): McConaughey Whiskey
YOUR HIP HOP NAME (fav candy + fruit): Chocolate Apple
Sunday, March 4
pop... drip... click... THUNK!
Have I mentioned I don't have a job, and therefore don't have an income? Ok, maybe once or twice. Right?
But have I mentioned that every couple of weeks or so something around the house decides to take a major dump?? Yes, Groove... I know I said I wouldn't bitch about my shit breaking down anymore, but keep reading and you might have some sympathy. I swear I'm starting to think I'm living in a money pit.
Here's the short list that's apparently trying to grow longer and longer till it swallows me up of things that are a) broken and in need of repair, b) broke and have been repaired, or c) are just fucking with me to see how long my sanity will stay in tact.
And if all of these aren't enough to push me over the edge, yesterday was certainly the icing on the cake. While the last load of laundry tumbled around in the dryer, I sat down for the first time in 6 hours. Listening to the whir of the machine made my eyes a little heavy, so I closed them for just a couple of minutes when all of a sudden...
THUNK... THUNK... THUNK... THUNK...
The loudest and most obnoxious thunking sound similar to that of a washing machine getting off balance but a hundred times louder and faster came roaring from the laundry room. I jumped up and ran faster than I knew I could move hoping the damn thing wasn't going to explode and burn down the house before I got there to turn it off. WTF??? Good gawd! I seriously do NOT need another broken appliance in this house!!!
After removing the mostly dried clothing I just walked away. I couldn't bear to even think about what might be wrong with it, or how to fix it, or how much freakin' money it would cost to buy a new one. Ugh!!
A few hours later, after the machine had cooled and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to explode on me if I tried turning it on, I put the dial on 'less dry' and pushed the start button praying I wasn't stepping on a landmine. It came to life with its usual whir, no thunk, thunk, thunk. What the hell does that mean? I'm afraid to even try it with clothes in there. Thankfully my laundry's done. For now.
At least it's not my furnace. That would be BAD!
But have I mentioned that every couple of weeks or so something around the house decides to take a major dump?? Yes, Groove... I know I said I wouldn't bitch about my shit breaking down anymore, but keep reading and you might have some sympathy. I swear I'm starting to think I'm living in a money pit.
Here's the short list that's apparently trying to grow longer and longer till it swallows me up of things that are a) broken and in need of repair, b) broke and have been repaired, or c) are just fucking with me to see how long my sanity will stay in tact.
- Fireplace. Been broken since we moved in. I think it's a gas problem. Stupid repair dood says it's electrical. Whatever. Haven't spent the time or money to have it fixed in the five and a half years I've lived here yet, and not gonna do it anytime soon now.
- Over the range microwave. Yeah, it crapped out a few years ago. Lights work. Fan works. Clock and timer work too. Just don't try to cook anything or the yummy electrical smoke will come pouring out choking the last breath you have in you. Thankfully I had a spare countertop model laying around so I can still cook.
- Kitchen faucet. Brand new one working like a charm. The old one - broken in bits.
- Garage door. This was a biggie. The spring snapped and tried to rip the door right down the center. Do I need to use the garage door? No, not really. But after a month of going in and out the front door exclusively I broke down and had it repaired. At least I didn't have to buy a new one.
- Front door lock. A key broke off and got stuck. After complete removal, disassembly, cleaning, and reassembly of the lock, I'm back in business.
- Roof leak. Yeah, it came back again this year. Short of completely redoing the flashing, and sealing up the stupid air vent that's supposed to let the walls breathe (wtf?) I sealed that baby up with Great Stuff which either turned out to be notsogreat or I just didn't get it in the right place since the leak was still leaking on the really windy, rainy days.
- Dishwasher. Finding a puddle creeping across the kitchen floor is usually a good sign there's something wrong. Ugh! After 2 weeks of washing ALL dishes by hand (no, no, no!!) a disposable pie tin now collects the 'drips' during the wash cycle.
- Laundry room doorknob. Ok, this one's been slowly breaking down for awhile now, but when you cut the doorknob hole in the door too big, and the knob slides right to left, what the hell do you suspect is going to happen?
And if all of these aren't enough to push me over the edge, yesterday was certainly the icing on the cake. While the last load of laundry tumbled around in the dryer, I sat down for the first time in 6 hours. Listening to the whir of the machine made my eyes a little heavy, so I closed them for just a couple of minutes when all of a sudden...
THUNK... THUNK... THUNK... THUNK...
The loudest and most obnoxious thunking sound similar to that of a washing machine getting off balance but a hundred times louder and faster came roaring from the laundry room. I jumped up and ran faster than I knew I could move hoping the damn thing wasn't going to explode and burn down the house before I got there to turn it off. WTF??? Good gawd! I seriously do NOT need another broken appliance in this house!!!
After removing the mostly dried clothing I just walked away. I couldn't bear to even think about what might be wrong with it, or how to fix it, or how much freakin' money it would cost to buy a new one. Ugh!!
A few hours later, after the machine had cooled and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to explode on me if I tried turning it on, I put the dial on 'less dry' and pushed the start button praying I wasn't stepping on a landmine. It came to life with its usual whir, no thunk, thunk, thunk. What the hell does that mean? I'm afraid to even try it with clothes in there. Thankfully my laundry's done. For now.
At least it's not my furnace. That would be BAD!
Friday, March 2
how'd they get here from there??
There are some very strange people out there, and they obviously have nothing better to do than search for some very strange things. How they got to my blog with their strange searches is beyond me, but funny just the same. Let's take a look at the last week.
“i really hate school” blog
Yeah, I do. But my kid loves it!
calling out sick for an interview
Maybe wait until you get the job then call out sick for work.
panties seen over jeans
Only if they're two sizes too big.
best banana muffins ever
Aww... thanks!
“jessica b” liss
Uh... which one of them were you looking for? They have their own blogs, ya know!?
thong sticking out pants
Not my style.
shawn cassidy music
Please don't tell me he's still performing!
search for hot girls wearing thongs with jeans
Would a picture of a VS model in my favorite bra be a suitable substitute?
when teacher bend thongs
Is this a new teaching technique?
kt tunstall thong
Someone is obviously really enthralled with thongs.
becoming aware video kotex
Usually the mere sight of blood is enough to make me aware.
tawny kitaen fight with david coverdale
It was only so they could have make-up sex.
can u start a sentence with but
But certainly!
people who refuse to get a job
Let's talk about the people who refuse to give ME a job!
huheygroove
Again... he's got his own blog.
wrong place wrong time oxymoron
Not really. It happens to me all the time.
eieio
Can I buy an A?
shes so unsocial
See. I knew some of you thought I was!
“i really hate school” blog
Yeah, I do. But my kid loves it!
calling out sick for an interview
Maybe wait until you get the job then call out sick for work.
panties seen over jeans
Only if they're two sizes too big.
best banana muffins ever
Aww... thanks!
“jessica b” liss
Uh... which one of them were you looking for? They have their own blogs, ya know!?
thong sticking out pants
Not my style.
shawn cassidy music
Please don't tell me he's still performing!
search for hot girls wearing thongs with jeans
Would a picture of a VS model in my favorite bra be a suitable substitute?
when teacher bend thongs
Is this a new teaching technique?
kt tunstall thong
Someone is obviously really enthralled with thongs.
becoming aware video kotex
Usually the mere sight of blood is enough to make me aware.
tawny kitaen fight with david coverdale
It was only so they could have make-up sex.
can u start a sentence with but
But certainly!
people who refuse to get a job
Let's talk about the people who refuse to give ME a job!
huheygroove
Again... he's got his own blog.
wrong place wrong time oxymoron
Not really. It happens to me all the time.
eieio
Can I buy an A?
shes so unsocial
See. I knew some of you thought I was!
Friday, February 23
maybe it's just me
We live in your typical middle-income subdivision located in your typical mid-sized town. The houses are on decent sized lots - not large, sprawling acres, but not one of those postage sized lots where you feel like you can literally reach out your window and shake the neighbor's hand as he reaches out his. Most of the houses on our street are occupied by the "home owner", with a few renters thrown into the mix. Basically, a middle-America neighborhood.
After five years of living here, and several neighbors selling and/or moving, I've fought through a divorce, trying to find work, losing my job, and now trying to find work again to keep this house. I like my house, but that's not it. I like my neighbors even more. And to think of having to move to another place, starting over, not really knowing what to expect from the neighborhood or the neighbors is not appealing in the slighest.
There are two families I would consider friends. People I talk to on a regular basis. People I invite over, get together with during the holidays, and get invited to BBQ's and dinners at their house. And then there's the few that I chat with in passing but still know to a certain degree. All in all, it's a comfortable place to live.
Due to the climate where we live (read as rainy, rainy, rainy) there is little chance for seeing or socializing with the neighbors during the winter months as there is during the spring and summer when we're all outside taking care of our yards, washing cars, playing with the kids, etc. Except for maybe snow days when everyone seems to come out to marvel at (or bitch about) the white stuff.
So why am I spending all this time telling you about my neighborhood? I'll tell you. But first I have to give you a little more background on a couple of the neighbors.
At the beginning of last summer, one of our rental properties got new tenents. For purposes of identifying the different families we'll call them Family A, my next door neighbors will be Family B, and the second set of tenents to move in later in the summer will be Family C. So, B likes to entertain - especially during the summer months. Lots of BBQs, beer, food, beer, poker, and beer. She also makes this very wicked peach punch. And I do mean wicked! Anyway, shortly after A moved into the neighborhood, B was having the 'regular crowd' over for the usual party and decided to invite A. Family A is quite a bit younger (as in fifteen or twenty years younger) than the rest of the 'regulars' and wife of Family A took quite a fancy to the peach punch. So much, in fact, that she virtually drank the entire punch bowl full except for maybe a few small sips from unsuspecting others who'd never tried it before. Needless to say, A has not been invited back to anymore parties.
Then, towards the end of the summer along came Family C. Family C and Family A hit it off immediately despite the age difference and hang out together frequently and have their own parties that none of the 'regulars' are invited to. Not that we care really. Or cared. Until yesterday.
Wife of Family C works at one of the local drug stores, so I see her there more often than in the neighborhood. Yesterday, just as I was finishing up checking out she came back in off break. We started chatting and she asked if I'd met the "new" neighbors (these are the ones that moved in across the street after the ones who were having "random" attempted break-ins moved out). I told her I hadn't and she said, "Well, that's because you're so unsocial." HUH?? Then she laughed and said she hadn't either but wife of Family A had. We continued shooting the shit for a little while longer, then I left. But I can't help but think about what she said. Am I really unsocial?
Like I said, I have a few select neighbors that I get together with. Then there's the friends I chat with online and on the phone because they live in different states than I do. And I do have a small group of local friends that I not only hang out with online and on the phone, but also IRL. Granted I don't have a huge group of friends that I do things with on a regular basis IRL, but does that really make me unsocial? If because I don't want to hang out with a bunch of twenty-somethings whose husbands are in the military makes me unsocial, then I guess I am.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't think I'm unsocial. Do you?
After five years of living here, and several neighbors selling and/or moving, I've fought through a divorce, trying to find work, losing my job, and now trying to find work again to keep this house. I like my house, but that's not it. I like my neighbors even more. And to think of having to move to another place, starting over, not really knowing what to expect from the neighborhood or the neighbors is not appealing in the slighest.
There are two families I would consider friends. People I talk to on a regular basis. People I invite over, get together with during the holidays, and get invited to BBQ's and dinners at their house. And then there's the few that I chat with in passing but still know to a certain degree. All in all, it's a comfortable place to live.
Due to the climate where we live (read as rainy, rainy, rainy) there is little chance for seeing or socializing with the neighbors during the winter months as there is during the spring and summer when we're all outside taking care of our yards, washing cars, playing with the kids, etc. Except for maybe snow days when everyone seems to come out to marvel at (or bitch about) the white stuff.
So why am I spending all this time telling you about my neighborhood? I'll tell you. But first I have to give you a little more background on a couple of the neighbors.
At the beginning of last summer, one of our rental properties got new tenents. For purposes of identifying the different families we'll call them Family A, my next door neighbors will be Family B, and the second set of tenents to move in later in the summer will be Family C. So, B likes to entertain - especially during the summer months. Lots of BBQs, beer, food, beer, poker, and beer. She also makes this very wicked peach punch. And I do mean wicked! Anyway, shortly after A moved into the neighborhood, B was having the 'regular crowd' over for the usual party and decided to invite A. Family A is quite a bit younger (as in fifteen or twenty years younger) than the rest of the 'regulars' and wife of Family A took quite a fancy to the peach punch. So much, in fact, that she virtually drank the entire punch bowl full except for maybe a few small sips from unsuspecting others who'd never tried it before. Needless to say, A has not been invited back to anymore parties.
Then, towards the end of the summer along came Family C. Family C and Family A hit it off immediately despite the age difference and hang out together frequently and have their own parties that none of the 'regulars' are invited to. Not that we care really. Or cared. Until yesterday.
Wife of Family C works at one of the local drug stores, so I see her there more often than in the neighborhood. Yesterday, just as I was finishing up checking out she came back in off break. We started chatting and she asked if I'd met the "new" neighbors (these are the ones that moved in across the street after the ones who were having "random" attempted break-ins moved out). I told her I hadn't and she said, "Well, that's because you're so unsocial." HUH?? Then she laughed and said she hadn't either but wife of Family A had. We continued shooting the shit for a little while longer, then I left. But I can't help but think about what she said. Am I really unsocial?
Like I said, I have a few select neighbors that I get together with. Then there's the friends I chat with online and on the phone because they live in different states than I do. And I do have a small group of local friends that I not only hang out with online and on the phone, but also IRL. Granted I don't have a huge group of friends that I do things with on a regular basis IRL, but does that really make me unsocial? If because I don't want to hang out with a bunch of twenty-somethings whose husbands are in the military makes me unsocial, then I guess I am.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't think I'm unsocial. Do you?
Saturday, February 10
my challenge
I was told by someone who reads my blathering on a regular basis - no names mentioned that my frivilous daily drivel doesn't amount to much compared to their infrequent novelettes. So I took mental note of that and took it as a challenge to write something more substantial, if you can call random ranting substantial.
WTF is up with people who tell you they're down on their luck and just need a couple of bucks to get by and, oh, by the way, are a little short on cash to pay the sales tax that since they're from Oregon where there is no sales tax and they didn't count on paying more on the new tire they unexpectedly had to put on their car in order to get back home? Sister, can you spare about $3.00? Yeah! That should do it. Notsomuch. What happened to the good old dime? Not the point.
The point is I certainly don't mind helping people who really need the help. This is usually reserved for people I know because, afterall, how the hell would you know if they really need the help if you don't know a damn thing about them? Of course some people, no matter how hard you try to help them, just won't help themselves, so you might as well not help them anyway because then you're just enabling. But that's not the point either, and definitely a subject for a different day.
The real point is just after getting out of the car in the Target parking lot this afternoon, WJ and I were approached by a dude asking for $3.00, or anything I could spare. He gave me the song and dance I just wrote about above. The first thing that went through my mind was 'strange dude approaching and it's just me and my son, he'd better not try anything'. Once I got over that initial 2.5 seconds of thought and really heard what he was asking I stood there for another 2.5 seconds just staring at him. As you well know, I've been out of work for nearly 6 months now. Never ONCE did I think about asking people for handouts. Shit! I wouldn't even take money from friends who offered it to me with NO strings attached. I've cut back on frivilous spending. Borrowed from myself. And, if it came right down to it and I absolutely needed the money and didn't have it, I would have taken ANY work I could get instead of holding out for something that will let me live my life comfortably and withing the lifestyle I've become accustomed.
Why do some people think it's okay to just walk around or stand on a streetcorner or freeway offramp asking for money? IT'S NOT OKAY! Let me repeat that. IT'S NOT FREAKIN' OKAY!!! Get a job. Any job. There's a shitload of them out there. I know cuz I've seen them. I'm just being a bit particular in my search. But if I really needed to work and bring more money home than what I've been collecting in unemployment and child support I would have been working within the first week of being cut by corporate computer giant. To expect others, hardworking or unemployed like myself, to just hand out money to help you because you got in a jam if you really did and aren't just bullshitting us while you run home and sit in front of your big screen plasma TV sipping on whatever drink is the fancy of the day is ludicrous. And rude. And not a game I want to play with you. Not today. Not ever.
Is this more substantial than the usual drivel?
WTF is up with people who tell you they're down on their luck and just need a couple of bucks to get by and, oh, by the way, are a little short on cash to pay the sales tax that since they're from Oregon where there is no sales tax and they didn't count on paying more on the new tire they unexpectedly had to put on their car in order to get back home? Sister, can you spare about $3.00? Yeah! That should do it. Notsomuch. What happened to the good old dime? Not the point.
The point is I certainly don't mind helping people who really need the help. This is usually reserved for people I know because, afterall, how the hell would you know if they really need the help if you don't know a damn thing about them? Of course some people, no matter how hard you try to help them, just won't help themselves, so you might as well not help them anyway because then you're just enabling. But that's not the point either, and definitely a subject for a different day.
The real point is just after getting out of the car in the Target parking lot this afternoon, WJ and I were approached by a dude asking for $3.00, or anything I could spare. He gave me the song and dance I just wrote about above. The first thing that went through my mind was 'strange dude approaching and it's just me and my son, he'd better not try anything'. Once I got over that initial 2.5 seconds of thought and really heard what he was asking I stood there for another 2.5 seconds just staring at him. As you well know, I've been out of work for nearly 6 months now. Never ONCE did I think about asking people for handouts. Shit! I wouldn't even take money from friends who offered it to me with NO strings attached. I've cut back on frivilous spending. Borrowed from myself. And, if it came right down to it and I absolutely needed the money and didn't have it, I would have taken ANY work I could get instead of holding out for something that will let me live my life comfortably and withing the lifestyle I've become accustomed.
Why do some people think it's okay to just walk around or stand on a streetcorner or freeway offramp asking for money? IT'S NOT OKAY! Let me repeat that. IT'S NOT FREAKIN' OKAY!!! Get a job. Any job. There's a shitload of them out there. I know cuz I've seen them. I'm just being a bit particular in my search. But if I really needed to work and bring more money home than what I've been collecting in unemployment and child support I would have been working within the first week of being cut by corporate computer giant. To expect others, hardworking or unemployed like myself, to just hand out money to help you because you got in a jam if you really did and aren't just bullshitting us while you run home and sit in front of your big screen plasma TV sipping on whatever drink is the fancy of the day is ludicrous. And rude. And not a game I want to play with you. Not today. Not ever.
Is this more substantial than the usual drivel?
Tuesday, January 23
and the blood spew forth from the spawn in rivers
There's this little game called basketball. The one where you take a round, orange ball and hurl it towards this little hoop hoping to make it in. Have you heard of it? Here in our house we have three forms of said game: 1) watching it on TV, 2) shooting with a regulation sized hard ball into the hoop purchased by The Rents residing in our garage, and 3) shooting the mini sized Nerf soft ball into the mini hoop hanging on the laundry room door. The latter being the most used at this time of the year and apparently also the most dangerous of all.
Last month, after donning the house with Christmas cheer, I entered the family room to find WJ sitting on the couch, extremely upset and fighting back tears. After asking what the problem was I was told about how the soft Nerf basketball had bounced off the rim of the cheap plastic hoop hanging off aforementioned door and careened into one of the equally cheap plastic candles adorning the mantle. Said candle then toppled off the mantle, crashed to the floor, and smashed the glass bulb to smithereens. Was WJ hurt? Had glass shards ricocheted off the train table and flown into his eyes causing him sudden and permanent blindness? Of course not. The problem wasn't pain inflicted by the breaking of the bulb, or the candle for that matter. It was fear that the revered hoop would be removed, dismantled, and potentially thrown away because this soft Nerf basketball had smashed the cheap ass piece of shit candle. If you haven't gotten the correlation yet, maybe last night's incident of epic proportions will clear things up for you.
After playing a few rounds of "first to ten" on the cheap plastic hoop with the soft Nerf basketball, I retreated to the comforts of my barstool. No. I do not have a bar in my house. It's what I sit on while working on the computer that's perched on the breakfast bar between the kitchen and family room. Though putting in a bar isn't a bad idea. Anyway, I digress. The TV was playing some college basketball game and WJ continued to shoot hoops while occassionally glancing at the screen. I lost myself in the world of Internet surfing and tuned out the dull noises permeating from the background.
I vaguely remember WJ telling me he needed a Kleenex and telling him to go to the bathroom to get one. But when your kid steps out of the bathroom door and says, "Hey Mom! There's blood on my Kleenex." your entire being jumps to ready attention and heightened sense of alert. I got up, wandered into the bathroom to investigate, and just as I turned to look at his nose the river of bright red blood spew forth dropping onto the floor. Thank God for linoleum. I grabbed a tissue, held it to his nose, and saw the pristine white paper product turn into a soggy red mess in my hands. WTF? How did this happen with a soft Nerf basketball? And more important, how the hell do I get it to stop?
A nose bleeder I am not. Never had one in my life. Not even after getting smacked so hard in the nose with an elbow coming straight down on the bridge during a (say it with me now) basketball game. I had no freakin clue how to get the river to subside, so after bringing WJ out to the couch, having him lay down while holding several more pristine white tissues to his nose, I returned to my post at the computer to search for some advice. I also sent an IM to a friend I'd been chatting with only minutes before. No response. And trying to read the various do this but don't do that articles online was taking too long when your kid is asking if he's going to die and you feel like you've just been dealt a hand you have no idea how to play.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I made the panic call. The oh my God, WJ's got a river of blood spewing from his nose and I have no idea in hell how to stop it call. I called the only person I could think might have a solution. A friend who's kid plays sports and, by the way, who's wife is a nurse. It's great to have friends in high places. Cold compress, light pressure. Seemed so logical after hearing it. And guess what? It worked. Within minutes the incident of epic proportions was over and peace was once again restored to our little kingdom.
Oh, one last thing. I think Nerf needs to come up with a different adjective to describe their toys because soft just ain't doing it in this household.
Last month, after donning the house with Christmas cheer, I entered the family room to find WJ sitting on the couch, extremely upset and fighting back tears. After asking what the problem was I was told about how the soft Nerf basketball had bounced off the rim of the cheap plastic hoop hanging off aforementioned door and careened into one of the equally cheap plastic candles adorning the mantle. Said candle then toppled off the mantle, crashed to the floor, and smashed the glass bulb to smithereens. Was WJ hurt? Had glass shards ricocheted off the train table and flown into his eyes causing him sudden and permanent blindness? Of course not. The problem wasn't pain inflicted by the breaking of the bulb, or the candle for that matter. It was fear that the revered hoop would be removed, dismantled, and potentially thrown away because this soft Nerf basketball had smashed the cheap ass piece of shit candle. If you haven't gotten the correlation yet, maybe last night's incident of epic proportions will clear things up for you.
After playing a few rounds of "first to ten" on the cheap plastic hoop with the soft Nerf basketball, I retreated to the comforts of my barstool. No. I do not have a bar in my house. It's what I sit on while working on the computer that's perched on the breakfast bar between the kitchen and family room. Though putting in a bar isn't a bad idea. Anyway, I digress. The TV was playing some college basketball game and WJ continued to shoot hoops while occassionally glancing at the screen. I lost myself in the world of Internet surfing and tuned out the dull noises permeating from the background.
I vaguely remember WJ telling me he needed a Kleenex and telling him to go to the bathroom to get one. But when your kid steps out of the bathroom door and says, "Hey Mom! There's blood on my Kleenex." your entire being jumps to ready attention and heightened sense of alert. I got up, wandered into the bathroom to investigate, and just as I turned to look at his nose the river of bright red blood spew forth dropping onto the floor. Thank God for linoleum. I grabbed a tissue, held it to his nose, and saw the pristine white paper product turn into a soggy red mess in my hands. WTF? How did this happen with a soft Nerf basketball? And more important, how the hell do I get it to stop?
A nose bleeder I am not. Never had one in my life. Not even after getting smacked so hard in the nose with an elbow coming straight down on the bridge during a (say it with me now) basketball game. I had no freakin clue how to get the river to subside, so after bringing WJ out to the couch, having him lay down while holding several more pristine white tissues to his nose, I returned to my post at the computer to search for some advice. I also sent an IM to a friend I'd been chatting with only minutes before. No response. And trying to read the various do this but don't do that articles online was taking too long when your kid is asking if he's going to die and you feel like you've just been dealt a hand you have no idea how to play.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I made the panic call. The oh my God, WJ's got a river of blood spewing from his nose and I have no idea in hell how to stop it call. I called the only person I could think might have a solution. A friend who's kid plays sports and, by the way, who's wife is a nurse. It's great to have friends in high places. Cold compress, light pressure. Seemed so logical after hearing it. And guess what? It worked. Within minutes the incident of epic proportions was over and peace was once again restored to our little kingdom.
Oh, one last thing. I think Nerf needs to come up with a different adjective to describe their toys because soft just ain't doing it in this household.
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