PHTSD :: Post-Holiday Traumatic Stress Disorder

I think it should become part of the line-up, don't you? After a 36-hour crafting marathon, 6 hours of baking, an unplanned trip to the pediatrician's office and a crap-load of wrapping, I've decided that it should be a federal mandate that the day after Christmas also be considered a holiday. How else are you supposed to recoup?

It started innocently enough. I called the out-laws to check on the attendance for the Christmas Eve dinner. To my surprise, there were all sorts of people coming that I didn't know about.....and they all had gifts for the kid! "Oh, yeah, and Suzie from next door is coming with her second-cousin-twice removed. Just so you know, they're bringing a little something for Sydnie." So, of course, I feel obligated to bring something for them. This is when all hell broke loose at our house.

And yes, that's an empty pizza box in the bottom right corner.....because I was too damn lazy to a) cook the night before and b) to put it in the recycling before I started cooking. I know, completely ridiculous. Anyway, some yummy goodness came out of it all, like this granola.



After baking brownies, peanut butter cookies, this granola, blueberry muffins, chocolate cheerio trail mix and pumpkin apple bread, I made up 8 boxes and headed to the outlaws where we dealt with extended family and friends; always a great treat. My family is crazy in a funny sort of ha-ha way; his family is certifiably nuts in a "should be institutionalized" sort of way. Lots of yelling at their overgrown puppy that kept taking food off the table and discussions about pregnant dogs and their enlarged nipples. It was great.

Back at home, we told the kid that she had to let us sleep for 8 hours. We didn't care what time she got up, but she had to go to bed 8 hours before. So, she headed off to slumber at 10, but ended up bawling her eyes out in frustration over not being able to go to sleep. "How do people do this?? It's agony!!" she sobbed. I felt terrible for her so I laid down with her and ended up falling asleep myself. All well and good until I woke up at 12:30 only to realize that I still had to put one more coat of Mod Podge on her suitcase and wrap a few gifts plus stuff the stockings. First I tackled the suitcase and figured it would dry while I was stuffing stockings. It turned out pretty well.


After stuffing stockings, I decided I was far too tired to wrap gifts, so several ended up under the tree just as they were. We had a small stumble at 4am, but she went back to sleep after grabbing her stocking. As I peeled my eyelid open at 5:58, I could still hear her snoring and I smiled, foolishly thinking that she would sleep until at least 6:30.....a full 8 1/2 hours after going to bed.

At 5:59, a small finger repeatedly poked me in the shoulder while a little voice shout-whispered "It's 1 minute before 6!" The tree was opened before 7:30 and we then made the trip up north where my grandmother was her lovely self - slanderous remarks and all. Just the exclamation point I needed for my theme slogan this holiday season.

Wow! Where Has The Month Gone?

Somehow, I'm stranded back in the beginning of this month.....not quite able to move forward. My holiday shopping is done but I'm still lacking the Christmas cheer.....I think I'm emotionally scarred from the shopping incident way back. However, rather than rehash old news, I thought I would fill you all in on the latest and greatest run-in I've had with people in public.

This morning, after digging out from yet another storm, I stopped at the local ghetto-gas station to get a cup of tea on my way to work. It's 8:30 and when I pull in to the gas station, I'm not late....not even close. Just as I step up to the counter to pay for my $1.85 cup of tea, a man cuts in front of me. Here's what he has in his hands:

• A porno magazine
• A 6-pack of Miller Light

Here's what he asks the cashier for:

• A pack of Paul Mall cigarettes
• (2) $1 scratch tickets

His total? $16.67
How he pays?

• Several fistfuls of dimes and nickels

"You've got to be shitting me," I can hear you saying it. But, indeed, I kid you not. He literally pulled out all dimes and nickels to pay for his lovely morning party purchase.

Of course, I had only my debit card, so I wasn't able to just throw cash on the counter and leave. No, I had to wait for the cashier to painstakingly count out $16.67 in dimes and nickels. The man protested, claimed he had it all there....he wouldn't lie. But the cashier insisted that someone else had told her that, and he was $0.50 short goddammit!

After she gave him his 3 pennies and bid him farewell, she gave me my total of $1.85 and said, "What the hell is wrong with these goddamn perverts anyway? Dimes and nickels.....you know, he's lucky I took that. Most places wouldn't take that......"

I tuned her out, entered my PIN number and said, "Merry effing Christmas."

The High Price of Hannah Montana

www.hannahmontanatickets.net

So, any parent that reads this already knows what I'm talking about. If you are either not familiar with Hannah Montana, or are not a parent with a child that lives, breathes and dies by Hannah Montana, you can find a little bit of background here, here, and finally, here.

We, of course, parent a child that wants to go to the Hannah Montana concert when she comes to nearby Worcester (that's Wo-staaah for those of you not local). However, as the last article I linked you to correctly points out, some tickets are selling for $20,000. What?!? Nope, not a typo. It's true. Sick, isn't it?

However, we in Maine are cheap. We're really just cheap bastards. And primarily our cheapness is directly related to our way-to-high cost of living......I mean, pretty much, we just have no choice but to be cheap. So, a local radio station has come up with a contest for kids to win tickets to the Hannah Montana contest.

They've named it the "Mannah Montana" contest. All the screeching little girls need to do is get their dad, or other father-like figure, to dress up as the queen herself and snap a pic. Locals go to the website and vote for their favorite; he who has the most votes, wins. Now, I was already disturbed by the exorbitant cost of the tickets, but I think, after viewing 136 photo entries with the kid last night, that I'm far more disturbed by what this contest has created. Here are the three I find the most unforgettable.

Mannah Montana Contestant #21

Mannah Montana Contestant #22

Mannah Montana Contestant #26

I truly feel that after this much humiliation, these poor men deserve one of those Budweiser "Real Men of Genius" radio commercials where the guys is singing......."so here's to you Mr. Mannah Montana.....because only you can proudly say 'Yeah, I'm in touch with my feminine side.'"

Putting the "Happy" in the Holidays

So I made the mistake of going out in public yesterday; a Sunday. A Sunday only 3 weeks before Christmas, and only 3 days before Hanukkah begins. What was I thinking? I was still so worked up yesterday that I couldn't even talk about it. If nothing else, I learned one very important lesson: I should not be allowed to leave my house between Dec 1st and Jan 1st; individual lives depend on it.

After I dropped the kid off at a birthday party in the depths of hell, I headed to an adult version of hell; JoAnn's. All I wanted to do was grab something I needed to finish a gift. First, I encountered a girl, early 20's, gabbing on her cell phone while walking through the store. "Oh, that's understandable. Well, maybe you're spending too much time together. Hey, I can make you a blanket with pink heeeaaartss on it for Christmas? I know you're okay with pink, I know you're secure in your manhood." On, and on, and on. And she wasn't talking to a little kid, she was talking to some guy about the girl he was dating. I wanted to say, "Just tell him you like him, you want him to break up with the girl and get off the damn phone already!"

When I finally escaped her, I got in line to check out, only to get behind yet another woman on her cell phone; this one had a screechy voice reminiscent of Estelle Costanza on Seinfeld. The people in line behind me appeared, and smelled, as though they hadn't bathed in a week or two. Not that I have anything against that, but it was just not what I needed at the moment. So I held my breath, and rocked back and forth, waiting. Trying to be patient. But nothing is every quick, or easy, at Joann's.

In a fit of hysteria, I made the devastatingly poor choice of going to Marden's after I left JoAnn's. As we settle in for our first winter storm here in the Northeast, I was getting prepared to lose power, just like we always do. No power means we need candles, and there's no cheaper place to get them than Marden's. Unfortunately, every woman with more than one child was in the store too, and, with every fiber in my body, I had to resist the urge to stick my foot in the aisle and trip one of the little screaming, running, heathens. Only to pick it back up by the shirt and say in my most sympathetic voice, "Oh, sweetie, did you fall? Oh, are you okay? You shouldn't run like that. I really dangerous."

Had it been my child, I would have pulled her aside and in my Mommy Dearest voice, whispered in her ear, "If you don't stop your screaming and your running, I will drag you out of this store and make a huge scene. I will embarrass you to the point that you will never want to leave the house again. Do you understand me?" On the rare occasion that we have an issue in public, this usually does the trick. I hurry through Marden's, and when I'm leaving, I encounter the woman who is the source of all my angst. Yes, there were not multiple women with multiple children involved, there was ONE woman with many multiples of children running around. And as I pass her in the vestibule, she has an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, a cell phone in her hand, an empty stroller in front of her, and she's screaming at the nation of children with her, and I quote, "Get you asses back in here. I'm not f**king ready yet!"

I ran back to the car, only to have two guys in a truck honk at me because I wasn't shoving my two small bags in the backseat fast enough - they wanted my parking space. Probably headed in to Marden's to try and score a deal on some camouflage huntin' geah or sumpthin. So, I backed my wagon out as fast as I could, and before I could put in first gear, their plow was looming way too close in my back window. Bastards.

The last straw was when I came home and got on the phone with my mother. My relationship with her is a funny one; sometimes we have lots to talk about, other times, not so much. Just like every family, we have a lot of dysfunction in our history. But we started talking about Christmas gifts and I asked her if she and her husband (that I am so fond of) would like a package from Omaha Steaks for Christmas this year. "Oh, why yes, that would be great!" Now, keep in mind, the someday spouse and I have told everyone, including her, that we are buying ourselves a new washer for the holiday, so "if you want to get us something, get us a gift card to Lowe's or something."

For the last 8 years, my mother has given me the same gift, a $50 Visa gift card; when I started dating the boy, she started giving him one too. So we thought we were in good shape, we could put both towards the new appliance. But no, not this year. The year that I actually need it, she decides to give him a gift card and buy me this. Now, I appreciate the thought behind buying me a digital picture frame where I can load up all my fabulous pictures and have them flash randomly around, so I can keep looking at them ALL. THE. TIME. Or, if I'm really lucky, maybe she'll load them with her pictures.

But I don't need it. What I need is a new washer that doesn't use 48 freaking gallons of water with every single load. What I need is that goddamn gift card that she gives me every year. What I don't need is a picture frame. I have plenty. They sell them by the dozen at Marden's for God's sake. So, while he's out buying fancy coffee with his Christmas gift, I'll be at home looking at flashing pictures of my mother, her yapping dog, and her drunk husband, passed out in the driveway.

Happy effing Holidays.

Holidays + My Family = Sheer Delight

I've often wondered if my grandmother is ever going to get over the fact that myself and my someday spouse are living a life of sin. I found out this weekend, that, clearly, she is not in a forgiving type of mood.

Now, I've talked about this before and I thought that by now, she'd be over it - at least a little bit. But, alas, I was wrong. But never has she been so blatant about it. Imagine my surprise when I walked in to the living room to find a family picture or myself, my ex, and our daughter proudly displayed on her mantle. ha! She really is quite funny.

So, while my grandfather is calling the someday spouse my "husband," my grandmother is trying desperately to point out the fact that we are NOT married. Therefore, he is NOT my husband. Until grampa finally had enough, and for the first time ever, stood up and said, "For God's sake Emaline, that is enough already! Where the hell is the pie?"

I love the holiday's.

Dane Cook :: Rough Around The Edges

Well, last night took us to Boston to see this guy. They just make 'em better in Boston, don't they? I have to argue that, geographically, the boys on the East Coast are just deeee-freakin-licious. Period.

Anyway, the boy and I had a little date nite and laughed our asses off....not only is Dane Cook one of the funniest people around, he is also a marketing genius. He has literally used the internet to fuel a following that has become an epidemic. Not only is he everywhere, and selling himself like crazy, he has used viral marketing to his advantage in a way that few others have. It's absolutely amazing. Anyway, so with that, I'll close. I just had to say that he rocked the Garden last nite, plain and simple. Although, I'm pretty sure the 10:30 show got a little more play than those of us that hit up the 7:00 one.....which makes me a little sad because I can never get tired of seeing this adorable face. Oh, and here's a little clip from one of my favorite parts of the nite - although this was filmed elsewhere.

Oh, small disclaimer here :: his language is definitely not safe for work or kids, so keep that in mind. Find a dark closet or something and listen to this....you'll be laughing your ass off too......

Religion Defined

Each week, the kid comes home with spelling words; each week, her friend that goes to Catholic school gets them too. This week, they had one word that was the same: religion.

Each have the same task - they make flash cards with the word and definition. Here's what they came up with.

Our kid: practicing your religious beliefs or believing in something bigger than you.

Her Catholic friend: being a good Catholic and going to Mass ever day and worshiping God.

Huh.

A House Is a Funny Thing

After three days of raking leaves and bagging leaves and then raking more leaves, I am almost certain that, had we looked at our house during the fall season, we would never have actually purchased it.

It looks innocent enough, doesn't it? And on the sell sheet, it looked really quite impressive. A third of an acre? Really? And right in town? That's fan-tab-u-lous!

And really, the thought of spending summer days on the deck with the shade of the trees was really quite appealing.

Until I had to rake a third of an acre. After that, it really lost its charm.

PC'ing the World One Hispanic Bean At a Time

So, for any of you that know me, you know that I'm a pretty liberal, embrace the politically correct things of the world, hold hands and skip in circles with daisies in our hair while holding hands, kind of gal. But really, even I have my limits. And here is one of them.

Trick or Treating Rules to Live By

As a new homeowner, it was the first Halloween that I've actually had to go buy candy for the demons (and Playboy bunnies) that would walk (or be driven) through our neighborhood......you see where this is going already, don't you? Standing at the grocery store with about 50 other last minute shoppers, I realized a few things:

• Halloween Candy is a complete rip-off
• I now understand why some of the candy I got as a kid was stale; buying a year ahead when it's all clearanced out it the better deal
  
• There is no possible way to gauge how much you really need
• It's really no wonder that Americans are fat
• I struggled with whether to buy both good candy and peanut-free candy, for those with peanut allergies which frustrated me because then I thought "wow, I'm really over thinking this"
• The more candy in the bowl, the more the fat, greedy, not-so-little kids will take

Ok, obviously I'm slightly disenchanted with our first "handing out candy" experience. As I dropped the kid off at her "trick-or-treat" date with her friend, I slowly drove back across town and noticed some very profound things; these led me to create the following rules to live by. If you're a parent, read them; if you have a kid that I may be talking about, make them read too.

1. If you do not wear a costume, do not come to our door - in fact, do not go out at all. It is a disservice to all the other parents and kids who spend hours trying to look perfectly scary.
2. If you cannot walk through a neighborhood to score some candy, don't bother coming. You are too lazy to deserve candy.
   
3. If you are not going to say "Trick-or-Treat" or "Happy Halloween" or "Thank You" or even just utter "BOO!" do not ring my bell. I am giving you something you want, humor me.
4. If you are old enough to wear a Playboy Bunny t-shirt, short-shorts and pink bunny ears, you are TOO DAMN OLD to be trick-or-treating. Plus, the only people looking favorably at your little "whore in white hooker boots" outfit are the dads.....and that's just plain creepy.
5. Show up with something more creative than a plastic shopping bag for your candy; even a pillowcase is fine.
6. Take a maximum of two pieces - grabbing a handful of candy is really not cool, and, really, it's only the fat kids in short-shorts doing it, but it happened a lot so it's worth mentioning.
   
7. If you are a parent of a smaller child and you see them grab a handful of candy, remind them that two pieces is enough. If you don't, I will; and I don't like being the bitchy lady in the corner house.

Umm, yeah, I think that just about covers it. Can you tell I was slightly irritated? I'm thinking next year I might just stand inside and open the screen.....throw the candy right out the window and watch them all fight over it on the front lawn.

Coming Up Short

For whatever reason, I have lost my funny - at least temporarily. I've been looking for her everywhere, and she must be hiding in the brush pile out back or something because I'm clearly at a loss this week. I mean, really, do I ever have nothing to say? Um, not often.

So, instead, I'll give you a boring rundown of what my life has entailed the last few days.

1. Knitting with a friend at Borders.....which is always fun. Lots of gossipy catch-up, a maple white chocolate latte, and a promise to visit for lunch this week (I'm coming on Friday!!!). She asked if I was going to weigh in on the King Middle School birth control policy, but I've finally decided against it. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't really find anything snarky to say about it; at the end of the day, I think it's probably a pretty good idea given the statistics. **Small disclaimer here: for those of you who don't live in the area, please know that there is way more to the story than the media is portraying**

2. 3 hours of swim meet watching on Saturday afternoon. Since the kid is now a "Polar Bear" she must do such things. It was hot, and sweaty, and thoroughly enjoyable. She did very well, despite being DQ'd on her butterfly and her breaststroke because her arms were not perfectly in sync......my initial thought was "she's 8, cut her a little slack" but then I was like "well, tough luck kid, tell the coach you want more practice on those strokes." And no, I'm not a total crab to my kid, she did very well on the freestyle and backstroke (2nd and 1st place) even though she had a minor mental breakdown 3/4's of the way through her 50.

3. Endless surfing of Facebook and MySpace - truthfully, I should have found some humor here. Well, I did find a little bit, but it's only funny to me because you'd have to know the person for find the humor.

4. The Spaghetti Supper for the school - again, all those parents in one room....you would've thought....but no, it was completely normal.

5. Sunday was a day of rest. Out to breakfast ghetto-style at Denny's, some knitting, endless chatting on the phone with my faraway friend in Germany and the Red Sox!!!

That's it kids. Nothing. Zip, Zero, Zilch. And it's too bad really because I typically am a tiny bit funny. Although, I do find this picture that my friend sent me mildly entertaining; he jokes that this is my future front yard - I think he thinks that all the people in Maine are mildly reminiscent of Joe Dirt. It's hard to see in the picture, but there's a sign in there somewhere that says "Daily Specials" and that sign in the left corner says "No Parking." Not sure how that works out.......

The Dumbing Down of America's Youth

I could say a lot of incredibly mean things right now about the youth of today; but I once was youthful and not so old and apparently crotchety, so I will refrain. However, I don't know that I was ever as obnoxious as the two boys that I encountered this afternoon.

As I am headed into suburbia, I see two boys - not likely older than 12 or 13 - walking out of a wooded area on the side of the street. And I glanced at them. I casually looked over at them and I did so for several reasons :: a) there's nothing back there except raspberry bushes a dried up creek bed, and all of our backyards, b) I've never seen these two boys in our little neighborhood before (and believe you-me, everyone knows everyone around these parts), c) they startled me and I wasn't sure if they were totally paying attention, and d) I live in this damn neighborhood and I'll glance at whoever I darn well please!

And I'll be struck by lightening if the smaller of the two didn't say "What chew lookin' at B*TCH?!?" as I drove by. Unbelievable. Not one to be pushed around by some punk kid, I came to a screeching halt in the middle of good old Wisteria Lane.....and I looked in the rear view mirror as I did so. The one nice thing about a station wagon is that you can see everything that is going on behind you.

Blatantly ignoring the loud protests and the pleas to "not go back there," from the kid, I threw her in reverse and started careening backwards down the street. Imagine my giddy pleasure as I caught the look on the boys faces when the VW logo was hurling straight at them; I'm pretty sure they pissed themselves. As I rolled to a stop next to these two kids I said in my every so friendly voice, "I'm sorry. Did you have something to say to me?" And I cocked my head to the side a little bit......plastered on a big smile.....you know, because I'm so nice and all.

"Uh....no, Uh, I wazn't talkin' to you. I didn't say nuthin! I waz talkin' to my boy hea, Treva. Isn't that right?" I'm pretty sure, based on the look that Trevor had, he was not the one who said anything to me and he was debating his odds on lying to keep his friend out of trouble.

"Um, yea, I guess." Trevor didn't have much to say.

So, homeboy, gangsta-wannabe starts walking down the street again and I just keep driving forward. And I egged him on.....mostly because at this point, I knew he was scared and I didn't care. I was going to make a point. Meanwhile, the kid is trying to disappear in the seat next to me because she is so clearly humiliated.

"Well, just in case you did call me a b*tch, or just in case the thought crossed your mind, I wanted to let you know that's probably not such a good idea....I mean, this is a small neighborhood and all.....you never know what might happen."

*Silence as I drive 1mph next to them.....*

"Oh, and just a thought. I'm pretty sure that your "boy" here, doesn't really have your back, so if you're going to insist on being a thug, you might want to find some different friends." And with that, I started to drive off. Then I thought better of it and rolled the window down one more time.

"One last little thing: I'm not sure if your parents have talked to you about this, but you really might want to learn how to speak English, I mean, for your own sake. And do us all a favor, ask your mom to buy you a belt, okay? I pay too much in property taxes to have to stare at your underwear. Have a nice day boys!" And then I drove off.

Now, the kid hates me because I completely embarrassed her and also gave her a lecture about how "If I EVER find out that you do something like that....." and the boy hates me because he figures that the gangsta's are going to come egg our house.

Catholics vs. Non-Catholics

Wow. It's been a few days, huh? Where have I been.......well, I've been "raaawwwther busy" as Eloise would say. And, Oh yes, I had a major computer malfunction/meltdown/I was almost crying at the computer place sort of thing happen too. That pretty much sums up the last week and a half. I was still reeling from the fact that much of my stuff was unrecoverable (and no, I am not a religious backer-upper), when this weekend arrived and I got a lesson "in Christ."

Yesterday, the kid went to a football game with Leafblower and MulletMom and their two kids.....we'll call them.....Thing 1 and Thing 2. And when she came home she says, "Mum! Did you know that Thing 1, Thing 2, and I are all brothers and sisters?"

I gave her a puzzled look and did sort of a head shake, "um, yeah, whatever" sort of thing. I was cleaning and couldn't be bothered.

"We're all brother and sisters in Christ."

Dust be damned! What?!?.

My immediate reaction was to cock my head to the side and say, "Oh, honey, that's sweet. The next time they bring it up, tell them that we're atheists." Even if it's not true, the shock value alone would have been worth the little white lie.

Or the response, "Well, that's nice of them to say. But you can let them know that we're "non-theists" and that your grandparents were Pagan's. Tell them you know black magic - they'll think that's great."

Now, I didn't say any of these things; I only thought them. And I'm still not sure if I'm mad that they persistently talk about religion when she's over there or not. What truly irks me is that they don't consider that we might be Jewish, or Buddhist, or anything other than Catholic.

We're not religious people, but we're not non-religious people either. We don't got to church, but we believe that someone bigger than us is controlling things. We don't force religion on the kid, but we believe that as life goes on, she'll figure out what she wants to believe it; that exposing her to many different religions is not a bad thing.

At the end of the day, shouldn't our good Catholic neighbors be considering the fact that not everyone is Catholic and teaching their kids tolerance? Instead, they're telling their kids that lefties got to hell.......

I'd better tell the boy to suit up, he's apparently spending eternity in the flaming inferno.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

From the moment our children are born, we have high hopes for them. Some want their kids to be just like them, others hope that their children will be nothing like them, and then some of us fall right in the middle: hoping they inherit the good, and are smart enough to ditch the bad.

For anyone who has met my kid, live and in person, you know that, not only does she look just like me, her mannerisms and her genuine talent for saying the most sarcastically inappropriate things at all the wrong moments are indeed, true to her genetic makeup. And although I wish she would temper the sarcasm at times, I can think of worse things she could have inherited.

For example, my Type A personality. A trait that I have only recently learned to embrace and somewhat control, I spend my days wishing I could be just a bit more laid back - just not as laid back as the boy. Unfortunately, I'm afraid she might be Type A.

The first indication was the other day when we were at Staples. She almost had a meltdown because I would not buy her a whiteboard. Initially, I thought she only wanted it to draw on and I assured her that she had plenty of art supplies on hand to draw with. But then she said "I need it for my schedule, so I know where I'm supposed to be!" It was at that moment that I began to suspect that the Type A demons were knocking on her frontal lobe. So, I bought the whiteboard, because I knew the level of anxiety that not knowing your schedule can bring on.

The next morning, I saw this and I knew that the demons had indeed landed. Pretty soon, she'll be obsessive compulsive about the spelling too.

Dear Miss Manners :: Vulgar Connections

As promised, we're starting Miss Manners. This weeks question comes from page 68....the question posed to Miss Manners was this:

Q: I have a nephew who is delightful and has charming manners. however, he has regrettably become enamored of a young woman beneath his station. The young woman (I cannot call her "lady") delights in recording offensive but humorous (in her mind) messages on my dear nephew's telephone answering device. How can I convey to my nephew the shock I feel upon hearing these culgarisms without sending him straight to the woman's defense - and her arms?

A: You are indeed correct that any attempt to drive your nephew away from his friend would have the opposite effect. Why do you not, therefore, reverse directions? Naturally, if you criticized her, he would defend her. What you must do is to say what a lovely person she is, and suggest that he offer to help her with her unfortunate taste lapses. If that doesn't do it, nothing will.

2007 A: Oh Gentle Reader, why are you so concerned with what your dear nephew is doing? And, why are you listening to his telephone answering device? Would that be on his cell phone or his land line? In either case, today's kids are doing far worse than leaving vulgar messages on each other's voice mail; just look at Britney Spears and her panty-less escapades. Be happy this is all you know about your nephew's extra-curricular activities.

My advice is this: spend less time worrying about Johnny and his girlfriend and a little more time playing Bridge with the girls. Oh, and keep living under that rock, okay?

Do Men Wear Scrunchies?

I made a brief stop at the market yesterday to pick up some goods for dinner, and also for the Red Sox game on Friday night and got in line behind a man, with shoulder length grey hair, pulled in to a ponytail. On his left wrist he was wearing a floral print, flannel, scrunchie; on his little finger was a pinky ring.

Now, we know I always reserve judgment (ha!), but, really, do men wear scrunchies? Or is that just some bold new fashion statement that they're trying to get started here in el-Maine-o?

I Think This Stuff Only Happens to Me

So, after I dropped the kid off for her swim practice last nite, I headed to the public library to get some books I needed. Heading on down to the first floor, I decide to make a pit stop in the the little girls room. Imagine my surprise as I bolt thru the door and run smack in to a woman, naked, singing about poop. And yes, I only wish I were kidding. She also happened to be in the bathroom that is right next to the kids library room; thank God it wasn't little Sally Someone that went walking in there first.

Butt naked. God.

You know, earlier yesterday, a friend of mine and I were talking about the "good ole days" when we both used to work with prisoners. He used to do transport in a different state, I used to work with them here, right in their comfy little housing pods at the County Jail. Either way, you see some of the strangest stuff. And when I was working with them, the most interesting character I met, by far, was BatWoman. A woman who was not allowed to come out of her cell to chat with me, or anyone else for that matter, because she refused to get dressed. Apparently, I attract the "clothing optional" peeps of the world.

Anyway, when I walked in to her "batcave" she was wearing nothing but a pair of pink underwear - on her head. Imagine my surprise! I remember thinking, "does anyone really question whether she needs a lawyer? How about we just request a psych exam right now." Alas, we chatted for a bit; she was really quite interesting. Did you know that BatWoman canNOT make herself invisible? Here's a sample of our conversation:

M: So, what happened?
B: I left my wallet in the library. (what is it with naked people and the library?!?)
M: And then what?
B: The library closed so I pulled the fire alarm next door so the fireman would come and let me back in to get it.

*I have to interject that, at this moment, a lot of thoughts were swirling thru my head like "she's pretty damn crafty" and "bite your tongue and do not ask her about superpowers!"

M: Well, you are BatWoman; why didn't you just use your superpowers to become invisible? You could have slipped right thru the door then. (Oops. It slipped, I swear.)
B: I'm BatWoman! I don't have invisible powers.

Check please!! Do you know how hard it is to keep a straight face while sitting in an 8x8 cell with a naked woman that is wearing pink underwear on her head?

I Caught Some Flack.......

from my little brother for not posting any pictures of his gaaawwwgeous daughter. So I'm here to do it right now. For everyone's viewing pleasure, here she is. You know, it's a funny thing; when I welcomed her here the first time, I spelled her name Madison and when he emailed me pictures, I was like, uh, oh my, he spelled his own kid's name wrong! And then it occurred to me that it was his kid and he could spell it any way he wants. Dummy me.

And just because he's so damn cute, here's a picture of my adorable nephew holding his new sister.
Coming up, I'm going to go ahead and start a new column here on the blog called "Miss Manners," just to help out any fledgling parents - you know because my parenting skills are so fantastic. Funny enough, when I went to the library sale, I found a book from 1984 and penned by Judith Marin titled "Miss Manners :: Guide to Rearing Perfect Children" *A primer for everyone worried about the future of civilization*

This book is fantastic because it is filled with Q & A's from readers and then the "proper" answer. In 2005, she updated the book and republished it, and I'm curious to see how different the answers are, almost 20 years later. However, here, we're going to give you the original question, with her original answer, and then the answer that, is of course, incredibly snarky; after all, I would have it no other way. So, stay tuned for that - it should prove to be very interesting.

Ms. Britney Spears

OK, I typically stay away from the tabloid gossip when it comes to my blog because, frankly, my life is tabloid worthy all on its own - who nears someone famous to muddy the waters?? However, I read this story today, and I just have to ask the question, am I the only one whose noticed that her kid is not fully buckled into his car seat in this picture?

Now, I could be wrong - Lord knows I have been before. But doesn't the kid that is sitting right behind her appear to only be buckled over his left shoulder? Isn't that little piece of metal laying on his right leg the other buckle for his harness? It's been a while since I've used a car seat like that, but I'm pretty sure that he's only buckled on one side.

The only thing worse than this is the fact that a guy (I can't even call him a man) named "K-Fed" is going to have custody of these kids. Like, really, why bother? Just send them to a foster home now.....anythings got to be better than these two.

Carnies and Combat Boots

Well, we finally made the trek to the fair last nite - in it's final hours. I was a little miffed that it was almost $20 for the boy and I to get in and then another $20 for tickets to the rides, especially since it was, seriously, the last 3 hours the fair was going to be around. Plus, I'm pretty sure that every ride operator there was either drunk or stoned last nite, which really makes me think it should have been free. As a payoff, I did get some free entertainment, even if we had to pay for the rides. For example, this:

Yes, that would be a woman in cut-off, frayed denim shorts with combat boots. And just to make the scenery more delightful, she also had a Marlboro hanging our of her mouth, which made the entire ensemble all the more attractive. And no, that's not a burly man next to her, that's her "partner" who clearly has just as much regard for appropriate public dressing. For me, the draw of the fair is not the rides, because I get ridiculously motion sick; I can't even watch a train pass without getting out of the car to vomit. For me, it's really the people watching.

The kid of course, had 40 tickets burning a hole in her pocket and was bouncing off the pavement, begging us to go on rides with her. I, of course, refused, given my condition. She did manage to coerce the boy in to hopping on the Cliff Hanger by telling him that she'd go on the Sea Dragon later - she reneged on her agreement only moments later.

Now, I'm not sure if you can fully appreciate the contraption that they are standing in front of, but you actually lay in those green things and you fly around. The kid thought it was a great idea until she actually got strapped in. In the seconds before the guy was going to flip the switch, she started screaming, "Mumma! Mumma! I wanna get off!" So, I told the guy to unhook her and she immediately burst in to tears. I'm not sure what was going on with her, given the fact that she went on this over the summer, all by herself. Anyway, after the jagged sobbing stopped, we settled on this ride - as a family.

Yes my friends, that is a giant tugboat. Picture two adults and a child, crammed in to the back row. Now, remember my motion sickness issue here, because it is a critical element of the night. The boat appears to only rock back and forth, at least to the layman's eye. The boy and the kid however, knew for a fact that once it gets going back and forth, it also spins. No one bothered to tell me. Nice, aren't they? After a lot of swearing at both of them, I headed for the nearest dark corner. Upon pulling myself together, I got bratty and demanded a caramel apple. I took one bite and the kid got the rest.

Overall, we had a lot of fun. The fair is such a dirty and trashy place, but it's a good laugh. The kid burned through her tickets on the bumper cars and a kiddie coaster, not quite satisfied, but at least pacified. At least we ended the night on a sweet note.

Weekend of Nothing

After a hella busy week, I have actually written in my day planner "Do Nothing Except Nap, Knit, and Read Today" on both Saturday and Sunday. Really. I scheduled it.

Anyway, it's Friday a.m. and I'm cozied up in a little carrel at the Portland Public Library.....as an added bonus, it's their annual book sale and I scored a set of Student Encyclopedias for the kid for $10!! Can't beat that. Now our little know-it-all can have a set of reference books to back up her claims of knowing more than we do.

Oh, and just a teeny bit of snarkiness before I go.....this morning when I was walking the dog, I saw a family herding their children in to their minivan to head out for their day. But here's the thing, they didn't have just one minivan, they had two. What is it with people - can't you just drive a car? When do you ever get to a point in your life when a minivan is a good idea? This is the same question I ask my little brother :: "At 27, how do you justify a minivan? Really? And with tinted windows and a NASCAR license plate!?! Come on now......" Thank God he quit smoking or it might have turned in to something like this.

And while we're on the subject of cars, I must confess, I almost got in an accident with our new little girl today; and if I tell the someday spouse, he'll never let me drive it again. So, it goes a little something like this......mind wandered because I was thinking about all the things I needed to get done today + the fact that Wild Oats is going out of business + the fact that Trader Joe's has said they are not coming to Portland, which I am really upset about because it means that I have to keep driving down to Boston to get the goods I long for. Anyway, distracted (obviously) and as I regain focus, I see the backend of a Volvo getting really close, really fast. Now, what is so ironic about this is that 5 years ago, at that very same intersection, in this very same month, I got in to an accident - by rear-ending a Volvo in my Passat. How strange is that? Needless to say, I know that the VW doesn't stand a chance against those tanks. So, please, keep it under wraps. Although our new grocery-getter drives me a little crazy with all its beeps and buttons, I love her dearly and don't want to be banished back to the Camry.

Have a great weekend!!

Ding! Ding! Ding! We Have a Winner!!

Congratulations!! One of my lurkers outed themselves today!! Said lurker already feels singled out, so I won't mention names but since Blogger doesn't allow you to directly respond to comments, I will say "thanks so much" right here. As for you being the last person I would suspect, you're close. There is someone else who I know is here, but refuses to say so, and he is the last person I would have expected. Anyway, find me on MySpace and we can catch up. For everyone else, hello, and yes, I made it back today. I'm not sure how, but I did. And I snapped this photo yesterday.....there is just something so peaceful about a little bit of a rainstorm.

A Quick Aside......

from my earlier post.....again, I've looked at my stats and I see some of the regulars, but also some newbies - for instance, a little reader from HMI.....so, if you're out there, and I don't know you're here, would you at least say "hello?" or "what's going on?" I suspect, especially if you're from there, that maybe I know you and we've just lost touch.....I'd love to catch up. As much as I love Maine, I often miss my friends from back home......

Pretty Please???

Just Breathe.......

It's hard to believe that it's been almost 10 days since I was last here.....and if you typically read for a bit of snarkiness, I would go ahead and click on thru to your next favorite blog now, because this is definitely one of those "Holy shit, I've been so busy and here's what's been going on and why I've been so absent" kind of posts. Someone once told me that the day you choose to work something other than a traditional 9-5 job, is the day you commit to being the busiest you've ever been; she couldn't have been more right. So, without further adieu.......

Friday :: Date Night! Saw the new Dane Cook Movie, which was super-duper funny and Dane was super-duper cute, as always!

Saturday :: Sociology and American History Classes, back-to-back, 8a-5p......2 hours at the grocery store and then, a great big fat par-tay at our house, hosted by my good friend Cathy, for her now 30 boyfriend. Because she is such a fantastic chef, she made yummy food and she did a great job with getting people over to our house. In fine fashion, I drank way too much wine and went to bed way too late.

Sunday :: 13 hour shift with the angst ridden teenage girls at the group home - with a hangover. Not good.

Monday :: 8 hour training on Therapeutic Crisis Intervention - with a "I haven't really slept in 3 days now" hangover - again, not so good.

Tuesday :: Similar to Monday, except after training, we had a swim team try out at 6. The good news is, we have a Polar Bear - the kid was a little worried because she didn't make it last year....she lacked maturity. Imagine that. Home at 9 and a quick dinner of Annie's and veggie nuggets - I'm such a great mom.

Today :: Find out I have a new niece!! Welcome Madison Nicole!! Drop off friends kid at school, drop own kid off at school, go to Deering to firm up date for Spaghetti Supper, stop in to Panera for a much needed latte, headed to a class on "Parents with Addictions" for my work with the foster care program, then off to Gov't class and then off to a meeting at SARSSM to talk about the 3rd Annual Online Auction, which I'm chairing again this year.

Tomorrow :: Drop friends kid off at school, drop own kid off at school, meet about a grant I'm writing for kid's school, Accounting class......possible stop at the fair, unless it's raining.

Friday :: Home, resume, resume, resume, and then, more work with the angst ridden teenagers.

Weekend :: Knitting with my other friend named Kathy (I hope!) and then to the 'rents to recover a bear named Fuzzy that a little girl in our home is missing very, very much.

I don't know if I'll be back before next week, so I'm apologize for the lack of posts, and also, the lack of anything really funny - although all my travels this week have given me much to write about, so next week should more than make up for it. Plus, I hope to have some pictures of that new little chublet my brother and his wife just welcomed....plus maybe even some pictures of my super-cute (and happy!) nephew with his new little sister.

Ciao.....

Happy Monday

I think. Is it Monday? Yes, it's definitely Monday.

How quickly time flies when you're having fun! So, we made it through the wedding this weekend and although it was cold and raining, the ceremony was beautiful. And my friend looked stunning - and I would expect nothing less of her. But it was one of those weird, sort of awkward situations where we haven't really talked much in the last year so I felt a little strange being at the wedding.....if that makes sense.

Sunday meant a drive to see the parents way up north.....I got a super yummy belated birthday cake from my sister, who I swear will be famous for her baking skills one day, and a zucchini from my grandparents that is, no doubt, the size of a small child. I will have to post a picture of it tomorrow. My step-mum told me to put it in the food processor and grate it up for bread, but shredding it seems somehow very, very wrong. You'll see what I mean when I post the picture tomorrow.

Oh, and one last thing before I close. A few days ago, Melissa mentioned this, and after looking at the Duggar's website, I really just can't get this off of my mind. SEVENTEEN Children. S-E-V-E-N-T-E-E-N. How exactly does anyone think that this is alright? And let's not forget to mention that dad's name is Jim Bob and they live in Arkansas. Yep, it's true. They have their own orchestra and their house is the size of a small town. If you get a chance, take a look at the photo gallery, it's great. Oh, and they've been kind enough to publish their daily routine.....maybe we should try J-O-Y at our house.....Jesus first, Others second, Yourself last....I'm sure that'd be big with the kid. And now, while Jim Bob's busy being a spiritual leader and home-schooling teacher to his 17 children, God is going to strike me dead for making fun of them.

A Rainy Saturday Morning

There are few reasons to haul yourself out of bed at 6:30 on a Saturday morning. However, after being poked by the kid numerous times, "Mumma? Mumma? MUMMA!" In that 'I'm trying to whisper but you're obviously ignoring me because I can see your eyelids twitching so now I'm whisper-yellling' volume that she has perfected, I got up and took her and the dog to the beach.

I'm glad I did. It was basically deserted because of the drizzle that was happening, so the dog didn't have many friends to play with, but the kid got to find lots of sea glass.


We've managed to horde quite a collection this summer, and I'm trying to find things to do with it - you know, crafty type stuff. I think maybe tonite I'll spend a little time Flickring to see if I can find any inspiration. Speaking of Flickr, this spring, after that terrible storm, I created an account, and have done very little with it. I think I need to get on that soon. I have lots more pictures from the summer, and our trip to the Museum of Science that I really want to get on there. And, since it's fall and time to craft again, it's time to get the work bench in order and put something in my Etsy shop as well.....

This afternoon we have an outdoor wedding to go to, which should be fun since it's supposed to pour all day, and then I need to get back here and start working on that term paper that is due on Monday. C'mon, say it with me now.......you're a procrastinator!!!

Well, I did get the research done.......

The Internet is a Funny Thing.....

No matter how hard you try to be anonymous, it never really seems to work out that way. For example, in an effort to gauge how many people are actually reading this monstrosity, I installed a little code to track my reader numbers a while back. I mean, if I'm the only person reading it, what's the point in writing it? To my surprise, I'm finding that many of you are just as appalled by my daily life as I am sometimes.

Then, this morning, while I was having coffee, I decided to spend some time figuring out how to use the other features that statcounter offers. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you can see the geographical locations of your readers and what you all are searching for.....turns out I have readers all over the place - and some are quite unexpected I might add.

So, to all of you that are out there lurking, "hello!!" and thanks for stopping by; enjoy your visit and come back often.

Walkin' Down Memory Lane......

Do you ever have those times when something happens and it triggers and old, seemingly random memory? The kid and I were discussing what I did, "when I was a kid" in which she was asking questions like, "have you ever been arrested?" and "did you ever skip school?" I can say that certainly the latter is in my history, but alas, I have never been arrested. Although, there was that one time......but anyway, then we got to talking about stuff like, when she's 15, will I let her go to football games with her friends and stuff. For one, she was freaking me out with all the random grown-up-ness, but on the other hand, it made me want to come home and dig through my old stuff to look at pictures from my high school days......I was so distracted in my thoughts, that I almost passed a stopped school bus!!! Agh!!! And THAT my friends, was what brought the real flashback.

When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend that lived in a different town. Our senior year, I only had classes in the morning so I would go to his house in the afternoon sometimes, before tennis practice. Anyway, I was late one day and was flying to get there on time, because I knew I was in deep doo-doo. I passed a stopped school bus and when the bus driver honked at me, I actually flipped him off. I remember looking in the rear view mirror the entire drive, worried that I was going to get arrested. Given the work that I do now, I cannot believe that I was ever so careless.

So, I basically spent the entire day, thinking about that day, and getting little else done. So much for productivity.

Pretentious People Suck

So, after having coffee with my friend Carrie this a.m., the kid, the boy, and I decided to go to The Good Table in Cape for a little celebratory breakfast. All was well until the table next to us was occupied by a much older couple, who were incredibly pretentious and managed to treat their high-school aged waitress like complete shit.

When she first approached them and asked if she could get them some breakfast, the man snapped at her, "Can we get a drink first?"

The poor girl tripped all over herself to apologize (this is probably her first waitressing job) and patiently took their drink order while the man told her what brand vodka to use in the Bloody Mary he ordered for his companion. "The lady will have a Bloody Mary with Zyr vodka - do you even have that here?" I wanted to look over at him and say, "Um, here's the deal buck-o. The kid probably turned 15 a week ago, and even though high school drinking is a big thing nowadays, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know the difference between Zyr and fucking Popov."

But, so as not to sully our good reputation with the owner there, I sat quietly while the rest of the conversation took place.

"What kind of champagne are you using in the Mimosas?" Again, I refer to my above line of thought.

We finished our breakfast while I basically drew blood from biting down on my lip so hard because when a different waitress brought over their drinks, the man jumped on her because he didn't have a napkin, and "goddamit, these glasses are too full!" Hey, at least your getting your money's worth, right?

Things only continued to get better as the kid left the table to go use the bathroom after complaining that her stomach was hurting from all the pancakes she had just eaten. She comes back a few minutes later and sits down, only to have the pretentious woman get up and tell her husband that she's going to go use the restroom. The kid, having mentioned earlier that she thought the people sitting next to us were being really rude, and in general just being my kid, looks at us, waits until the lady leaves, and then says, "Good luck to that lady, 'cause I just took a huge shiza in there and it stinks!" I swear to God, only my kid.

Reason #363 I Will Never Move Back to Michigan

Need I say more here? Let's not forget :: the town I grew up with had, at one time, a sign at the edge of town that said, and I kid you not, "Welcome to Zeeland :: Where the Chicks Lay Better"

My brother and his wife were kind enough to snap this pic for me when they were out and about. They also reported that, shortly after snapping the photo and hopping back in their mini-van (God Bless 'em for driving that urban assault vehicle) a young couple came out of the gas station. I can only guess that the two were off the farm and out on a date.

I Heart Anthropologie

Remember when you were a kid and it was time to go back to school and you would leaf through the catalogs, dog-earring the pages you wanted outfits from? In my house, it was always the $5 JCPenny catalog. I used to wait all summer for it to show up in my mailbox, just so I could pick out school clothes. Now, I wait just as anxiously for the Anthropologie catalog to show up.

And just since I'm turning the big 3-0 in just two days, I think I might treat myself. Nothing extravagant, although I would certainly love to buy this. Given the fact that we're adhering to a strict budget these days though, I think I might treat myself to this and these instead. Or maybe just this apron, because it's so damn cute.

Have a happy weekend; I know I will!

The First Day of School.

I realize that I am not always the best parent, and often times, I see myself in Melissa's posts - or in the same mindset as the poor stay-at-home dad over at Looky Daddy. But, I was not prepared for what happened today.....Miss Meg posted this sappy little diddy about how fast the kids grow and how we should savor each and every one of these precious little moments....then Jen talked about how she had to distract herself this morning so she didn't wallow too much!

So, before I could even get around to dancing in my underwear this morning, thanking any spiritual being that would listen, that yes, thank you very much, school had started, the kid was out of my hair, and I could enjoy the peace and quiet of my home that I had longed for anxiously over the last 8 weeks, I felt terrible. After reading Meg's post, my potential happy-me party was ruined and I spent the rest of the day feeling like shit about my parenting mindset.

Should I sit and long for my child to be home again, saying the words, "mumma can we....." every three seconds like a little mental terrorist? Or should I run around in my polka dotted boy-shorts with a drink in my hand before noon and celebrate the silence?

I'm baffled.

Men are from Mars

A week or so ago, Meg and I ran in to each other and we were chatting about how, often, it is really just easier to do things yourself. The conversation started out about the kids, but inevitably ended with us discussing our significant others. Meg had a really great view about it, and I've come back to her comments on more than one occasion in this last week. She said, in a nutshell, that you're either seething with frustration because what needs to be done is so blatantly obvious and the other half is just ignoring it, or, you're seething with frustration because you're finally fed up with them ignoring it and you're taking care of it. So, it's really just easier to do it yourself in the first place. In light of our conversation I'm debating a note in my someday-spouses lunch box. It will go something like this:

Dear Someday Spouse,

I've realized that "seething with frustration" is often what I am. And that "frustration" darling, is you. I know that, when it comes to confrontation, you immediately tune me out. And since I'm so incredibly sensitive to your needs, I'm not going to confront you; instead I've written you this nice little love note. And, just to make sure that you actually read the whole thing, there will be a quiz when you get home tonite; if you pass, we'll have sex.

I am "seething with frustration" for the following reasons:

#1. Is it really that hard to put your dirty plate in the dishwasher? Actually, if you could just get it to the sink even, we'd be making progress.

#2. When the dishwasher is full of dirty dishes and it just needs soap, why don't you put soap in it? Oh, that's right, you don't actually open the dishwasher to put anything in it, so how would you know that it needs to be run?

#3. Let's talk about laundry. See, I love this one. The kid does her own laundry and I do not complain about doing the rest. However, when you decide to take the initiative (which I applaud you for) to do some laundry, how about we put it in the dryer too? You know, instead of leaving it wet in the washer for three or four days so it gets moldy and needs to washed again?

#4. When you decide to dry the laundry, dry everything. It is a dead giveaway when I open the washer only to find semi-wet laundry, in disarray. In case you hadn't noticed, when you open the washer, everything is mashed against the sides from the spin cycle. When you pull out only the things you need to dry, it's obvious.

#5. And, finally, when you feel nagged to death, and you finally do clean, please do not expect a parade, or brownies, or even a little gold star sticker. I do not have any of these things for you. I do not get any of these things when I do my duties as your someday spouse.

I realize that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, but we live here, on Earth. And yes, I'm all about compromise, don't get me wrong. But I'm already compromising when I wipe dribbles off the bathroom seat that you don't lift and when I collect wet towels from our bedroom floor because you refuse to bring them back down to the bathroom.

So sweetie, can you just do me the favor of implementing the above in to your daily routine. I will be much happier and nicer to live with, which in turn, will make your life much easier too. And I know you're all about nice 'n easy darling..........

Love,
Your Someday Spouse

1 week to go.....

That's right, in just one short week, the kid will go back to school. I think that I am likely more excited than she is - and that means I'm pretty effing psyched. Someone earlier this summer said to me, "I don't know what the big deal is.....I mean, getting to play all day sounds like a lot of fun to me." Really? 'Cause that's not quite how I feel about things. Call me crazy, but I can only hear "MUMMA!!!!????!!!!" so many times in a day before I'm ready to rip my hair out. Oh, and lets not forget that I am quickly approaching "30" and my energy level does not allow me to get up at 7am, cook breakfast, go swimming, take a bike ride, go to the playground, go shopping, go to the library and host a play date all before 3 in the afternoon. It just DOES NOT HAPPEN.

Now, I know that I am delusional to think that on that very 1st wonderfully quiet day home alone, I will get to sit around and do nothing. I'm not a fool and I know that I will likely run around, trying to get stuff done - including a term paper - and end up looking more like the dog chasing its tail than I care to admit. It's a fruitless battle that I can never seem to win. But alas, if I want to try to do the laundry, load the dishwasher, write the 15 page term paper on juvenile sex offenders, figure out how to site it in APA format, and play Betty Crocker while I crank Eminem, at least I can do without background noise.

We're Having a Midlife Crisis

Well, not us exactly. But, Leaf Blower is. Funny enough, just as I was talking about the "silent but crazy" neighbors that live across the street yesterday, Leaf Blower drives home in a Mustang convertible.....yep, the official seal of approval on any great midlife crisis is a flashy car, right? Since rolling up yesterday, he has driven it around the block 3 times and as soon as he's gotten back, he's washed it - every single time. He's been outside waxing and cleaning the tires with a toothbrush since 7:30 this morning, which makes it about 4 hours now.....he finally just moved from the passenger side to the drivers side......he's also managed to park their family mini-van in front of our house, which drives me absolutely batty because we all know how I feel about mini-vans.

You Can't Escape the Crazy

I often laugh when reading Melissa's posts, especially when it comes to tales of her old neighborhood, and her hope that her new neighborhood will not have such quirks, because, after all, it is perfect. Her hopes are similar to what mine were when we moved into our new home. We no longer had to deal with the landlord who had kidnapped a prostitute and pistol-whipped her boyfriend over drug money, and we left behind the neighbors with the late 20-something son who was unemployed, yet drove a really expensive SUV, and lived in the basement of the house with his pregnant girlfriend and their constantly barking boxer puppy.

We now live in what I would deem a perfect neighborhood. Our days are filled with the laughter of the neighborhood children frolicking through the streets and the chirping of birds that we can actually hear because there is no traffic. But, we still have crazy neighbors, they're just a different kind of crazy and I'm willing to bet they're almost more dangerous because they are the silently crazy neighbors.

For example, we have the family kitty-corner from us with the daughter who is a teenage mom. Parents don't like baby's daddy, so they won't let him in their house. Imagine my surprise when the serenity of our street was broken by sirens recently and I watched an episode of COPS unfold before my very eyes. Baby's daddy is no longer allowed on their property. The result: The displaced teenage couple sit on the very edge of our property and smoke cigarettes and bitch about her parents while our dog barks constantly at them until they get up and leave, which is usually about 2 hours later. Now, the thought has occurred to me that perhaps I should just let the dog out and scare the shit out of both of them; however, my concern is that in the midst of the chaos that would cause, one of them would get hurt and would, of course, sue us. Then they wouldn't have to sit on the edge of our property to avoid her parents, they could just move in to our house because they would own it.

Our other neighbors across the street are seemingly the Cleavers. Dad is a hard working man who supports his family and trucks his son to football and baseball - hell, he even coaches the team. Mom just went back to work part-time after staying home for 8 years to raise the littles; after she drops them both off at Catholic school each morning, she goes to the hospital for the day and returns just in time to pick them up so they never need to be cared for by someone else. When you walk in to their house, they have sun catchers in the window that say "Praise Jesus" with rainbows and clouds and their house is meticulously cleaned - I don't know how she does it. But when you really pay attention you start to note things :: dad is outside, shirtless, in his cut off denim shorts, frantically using the leaf blower to remove dust and debris from his driveway at 7:30 in the morning :: mom who exercises frantically to maintain her perfect figure, even though she is rocking a permed mullet and tube socks :: dad who spends a week packing the trailer for a family camping trip, because he knows the exact dimensions of every piece of equipment, which is strategically placed within said trailer so that it will all fit. "No, that is not how it goes, it goes cooler, then stove, then inflatable pontoon boat, then chairs. That's the only way it will fit."

We have the friendly couple down the street with the two, obnoxious little dogs but no children, who feel like it is their duty to monitor the speeds of the cars going in and out of our neighborhood, which I appreciate, very, very much. Last week though, as I came around the corner, going a full 10 MPH under the speed limit, I was verbally accosted by one of them and it just so happened that she had just cleaned up her dog's poo.......guess what came flying at the windshield of my car? That's right, a yellow bag full of dog shit. Because she never actually came up to my car, I'm guessing she doesn't realize that it was me, but I'm waiting for the right time to say something about that one.

So, see, I've determined that it doesn't really matter where you move, or how seemingly perfect your surrounding might be; you can't escape the crazy. Or, maybe it's just me. A friend of mine said recently "You really just attract these people." I hope Melissa has better luck in her new neighborhood than I have, although I am willing to bet that in no time at all, we will be getting wonderfully sarcastic stories of how crazy her new neighborhood actually is; as sick as I am, I look forward to it.

A Nameologist

So, as I'm listening to the Today Show this morning, I catch this segment on a Nameologist that Nightline ran a month or so ago. $350 to have someone come on in and help you decide what you want to name your kid??? Are you f*%king serious? I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed for the people that are stupid enough to pay that much money for a little help in picking out a name for their kid, or jealous that this woman is able to give herself a title and charge people that kind of money to help pick out a name for their kid. Here's a tip, use one of the bazillion free mommy-to-be web forums and offer to throw $50 at the person who comes up with the best name; you'll get so many responses, you won't know what to do with them all....in fact, come to think of it, that's probably where your Nameologist is getting her ideas from.

In other unrelated news, NBC also ran a segment on drinks......and my favorite whorehouse was named......if you cut out one regular soda and one grande loaded coffee per day, you can lose one pound per week....just from the cut in sugar alone. That is, if you're a Nameologist and you can afford to be a regular drinker.

Internet Poker at Panera

As any of you that read my blog on a regular basis know, I love to sit at Panera and do what I need to get done. Not only does it provide a change of scenery from my own house where I seem to spend a lot of time, it also provides me with endless hours of entertainment.

Tonite for example, I'm at Panera. Innocently enough, I am trying to study for my Spanish class. I choose a table in the far back corner, tucked away from everyone, fully anticipating the first sip of my Caffe Mocha and a few hours of uninterrupted study time. After spending nearly 10 years in college, I should know that the library would be a better choice.

I was not here more than 10 minutes when two couples with two small babies arrived....and promptly set up camp right next to me. No, I don't mean, like a few tables over. I mean, the entire restaurant was empty and they actually moved my laptop bag to sit down. Ugh. To make matters entirely worse, they were here, on vacation from somewhere in the deep south and one clearly has an internet gambling problem.

As their babies (whose names are Journey and Star) are screaming, the two women are casually eating their dinner while one bitches that she just had to transfer $600 out of her checking account to cover her husbands gambling debt. "I told him he needs to quit doing that...."

Here's an idea - don't take him somewhere that has free internet access and then allow him to bring his laptop to dinner. And, while you're at it, change tables and feed your goddamn screaming kid who is clearly hungry and wants his bottle back that he threw on the floor.

For whatever reason, the southern gentleman lost his connection to his poker game and has spent the last 5 minutes complaining to the management here at Panera that their internet connection sucked. Geez....I never lost my connection. Maybe the poker people kicked you off because you owe them money????

As his wife tries to pacify him by telling him she'll call the people tomorrow and straighten it out, I fight my overwhelming urge to tap her on the shoulder and say, "Look sweetheart, cash in now while you've still got the trailer and the cinder blocks it's sittin' on."

Anyway, I must get back to studying my espanol....even though after 4 weeks, I still don't understand a damn word except Hola.