Old People Are Pissing Me Off

And I'm not talking "old" like my grammie and grampie (in their late 80's), I'm talking about those damn meme's that are in their 60's and have bad dye-jobs.

I just left an intramural soccer game at The Kid's school and I was sitting behind one of these meme's, which is where my bad mood started. Keep in mind that this was an intramural game - no high stakes, no trophies, no World Cup, just a bunch of kids running around chasing a soft yellow "soccer" ball in a pint-sized gym.

"Come on Hannah! Block the ball Hannah! Run Hannah! Good block Hannah! Dribble the ball Hannah, dribble the ball." And on, and on, and on. Jesus God. Really? And then when Hannah would miss-kick, "What ah ya doin' Hannah? Get on that ball Hannah!"

It's a f'ing intramural game grammaw! Half the kids playing in this game are doing so because they're not qualified to play "real" soccer. Just ask my kid, "Syd, are you good at soccer?"

"Um, no. I pretty much suck. But that's why I play intramural's. I can still play but just have fun."

And that's the way it should be.

So then I decided that I needed a change of scenery today since half of my office is disassembled upstairs and the other half is re-assembled in the basement, I've made the decision that I'll surf all the free Internet I can find in town today (meaning Panera, Border's and the library). I no sooner get to Panera and another one of these goddamn meme's is bitching because there's no light roast coffee in the urn. And as the manager comes walking out of the back with an urn in each hand she huffs and says, "Oh! So there you are. I was wondering if we were ever going to get some light roast."

It's a good thing I'm not the manager. I would have thrown the light roast right at her, hopefully drenching her ugly snowman sweatshirt and her ugly mouse-brown dye job. I mean, really, if you're going to dye your hair, at least pick a decent color.

The Friday Edition of "You Know You're An Asshole When......."

I'd had several cases of......"you know you're an asshole when".....things happen this week.

The first one was on Wednesday when I forgot my child at school. That's right. I forgot her. She actually had to call me and ask me where I was. In my defense, I was sleep deprived and had my mind on women's land rights in Ghana due to a doctoral thesis that I was editing, but still, I forgot her.

Worse yet, when she called I was actually surprised to hear from her. Like, "what do you mean where am I? I'm sitting at Julie's school waiting to pick her up and then we're coming to get you."

"What?!? Mom, I got out of school 45 minutes ago!!"

Shit, it's early release day.

The second happening actually involves a blind man - which is a little ironic since my friend Jess actually said something to me about making fun of people that wear sunglasses when it's not sunny out. Her comment was "what if they're blind?" Anyway.

This man has dressed up as Uncle Sam for the last 5 years and stood outside Liberty Tax Center, which happens to be owned by a couple of Middle Eastern men that dress in cheap suits and circa-late-80's leather jackets.

Of course, I find all sorts of things wrong with this picture, but I won't get into them except to say that, yes, I do find irony in the fact that two men of Middle Eastern descent own an American tax refund center that is called "Liberty Tax Center." Enough said.

So for the last 5 years, I've seen this man outside their place, pacing the sidewalk and waving to people. My dogs bark and growl at him every time we drive by and I happen to trust their judgment. And I haven't really made fun of him as much as I've said things like, "poor bastard," and "what kind of criminal record must you have if this is the only job you can get?"

Turns out he's blind.

And now I feel like a HUGE asshole.

Like, just to make it up to him I want to buy him a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich or something. And I'm not sure if I should be grateful to the men who own the tax place for giving him a job (although it's humiliating and probably doesn't pay well) or if I should be angry at them for exploiting a blind man to do work that no one else wants to do.

So, maybe someone in the universe is trying to teach me a lesson about being a better person - I don't know. What I do know is that, overall, I really thought I was a pretty good person to begin with. I have a lot of friends and I make people laugh a lot.

Like, sure, there are a few people on planet that hate me in a major way and it weighs heavily on me, but there isn't anything I can do to change that now, so rather than dwell on it, I've had to learn to let it go and hope that someday they can too. But to think that the big man upstairs is screaming, "hey asshole!! Hello?!? Are you listening Stacie? It's me, God. And I think you're being an asshole!!! You forgot your kid at school, you've made fun of a blind man, what's next?? An attack on the Little People of America?"

Well, that kind of shit makes you sit up and take notes.

Top 10 Reasons I Haven't Been Blogging

Clearly, I've been out of the loop for a while - roughly 6 weeks to be exact. But really, there's been good reason:

1. I've been really busy. Like, working crazy amounts of hours, and by the time I'm done, I have nothing left to give my little blog.

2. I have a dog that's been getting me up at 4:30 to use the bathroom; at the end of the day, I'm simply exhausted.

3. I've been trying to avoid the house. The boy is home now, except for when it snows (which is much less in February), and the more time I spend cooped up with him, the more I want to cause him serious bodily harm.

4. Did I mention I've been working a lot?

5. And spending a ton of time on Facebook.

6. And Twitter.

7. The only really funny stuff that's happened involve the boy, and he's been pretty adamant that I leave him out of this.

8. I've become addicted to Mario Kart.

9. And realized that I sucked so I need to practice a lot.

10. I hate the month of February and am always in a bad mood the entire month.

So, overall, the excuses really aren't good. And I know that I need to either cut-off the blog, or spend a little more time with it. So, I'll try to be better, and spend a little more time blogging, a little less time playing Wii, and a lot less time trying to figure out how to magically make the boy disappear until April.

My Whiney Ass Can't Stop Complaining.

I got this really hair-brained idea lately that I should start keeping a gratitude journal. Nothing fancy, just a few notes every morning about the things in my life that I'm grateful for. The purpose of the exercise was to try and pep me up. Make me a happy gal. Get me out of my funk.

Now, maybe I'm a little sick and twisted, but the shit I'm thankful for is really pretty lame. And when I'm writing down the teeny little stuff that I'm thankful for (that the boy shoveled the driveway before he left for work), I'm thinking about all the really big shit that I'm pissed about (that he waited until the last possible second to try to buy the shoes I asked him for as a Christmas gift and now he can't find them so I'll be the only person at home without anything to open). I realize in the grand scheme of things that this last sentence makes me a) incredibly shallow and b) sound really dumb for complaining about shoes when there's all sorts of people starving in the world.

But here's the deal. I'm not so much pissed about the fact that I won't have a gift under the tree to open, I'm more pissed about the fact that he waits until the last possible minute to do anything. Therefore, most of everything falls in my lap. I'm finding it difficult to turn that into something I'm grateful for in my little gratitude journal.

Other things I'm not grateful for :: all this effing snow, the fact that infertility testing involves the boy sperminating (Sarah's word) in a plastic cup which he's mad at me about, that tomorrow will probably be a snow day which means I'll spend the whole day explaining that "no I can't entertain you right now because I have work to do," to a child that just doesn't get that the world does not revolve around her 24/7. I'm not grateful that it's so effing cold, nor am I grateful for the fact that our firewood supplier screwed us out of 2 cords and $400; I hope he has a shitty holiday. Oh, and I'm also really not grateful that I totally lack willpower and I inhaled almost an entire 9x9 pan of brownies today - for breakfast.

So, what am I grateful for? I'm grateful for my job - I love the fact that I get paid to sit home and write every single day. I'm grateful that I had most of my holiday shopping done way ahead of time and that I have a snowblower and I'm not afraid to use it. I'm grateful that my daughter gave up her crusade to keep us from running the dishwasher because I couldn't take one more sinkful of dirty dishes. And mostly, I'm grateful for the fact that even though it's really effing cold out, it's pretty darn purty looking.

Ok, so I'm not a total grinch. And now I'm going to sign off, go put my feet up by the fire, knit some more, drink a big fat glass of Pinot, and finish watching The Wizard of Oz with the kid.

Happy Holidays!

Deadbeat Blogger

Wow! Where the hell have I been? I honestly didn't realize that it's been almost two weeks since I posted anything here.

So, what have I been up to? Well, for one, I've got all sorts of friends having babies right now. So, I've been doing my best to generally avoid them and keep to myself. And yes, I'm still pining away for a baby. Ugh. Does this nonsense ever stop? Like, at some point can I just get over it?

The boy thinks the scenario will play out like this: the kid will be 18 and graduating from high school, toting her pink Samsonite luggage across the world. We'll have our shit packed and our tickets to Europe where we'll make a new life. And then, oops. We're cooking a kid.

At which point, I'll be pissed. I will be angry. Really, truly. Mad as hell.

And speaking of ungrateful mothers......I've recently managed to piss of my someday MIL as well. First, I told her that her son had voted Republican in the election. That almost gave her a heart-attack. Then, I told her that I could see the viewpoint of non-dog owners about dogs running off-leash on So. Portland beaches. For that, I got a tongue lashing. Finally, I told her that we couldn't come over for coffee Sunday morning because we had to rake leaves. She lost her shit on the boy for that one.

She must have really focused her universal energy on being angry at us, because this morning, our dogs got into the cat food and promptly went outside to take individual shits on every single pile of leaves that we've raked up, but not yet bagged.

That's what we get for putting moldy leaves over coffee with the boy's mom. The holiday's are going to be an effing blast this year.

I Think I Smell a Skunk

For the last several days, I've been sitting in my office and smelling the very distinct stench of skunk. And I've pretty much lived with it because I figured that if there was a skunk spraying his stuff all over the yard, I was not wanting to get involved.

So today, the boy comes home and I mention it to him. Thinking maybe he knows something about the skunk, or maybe, perhaps, he should be aware of the skunk so that he doesn't let the dogs out at night to get sprayed.....

M: Hey honey, I think we've got a skunk hanging out in the yard. Do you smell that?
B: Smell what?
M: The skunk smell.
B: I don't smell anything.
M: Well, come in my office and sniff. It smells like skunk in here.

So, in he walks, and he takes a great, big, giant sniff.

B: Oh, that?
M: Um, yeah.
B: That's just my shoes. They're right over there (as he points in the general direction of the corner of MY office.)
M: Were they sprayed by a skunk?
B: Yeah, I think so. I put them in here to air out.

*****Silence......******

M: So let me get this straight. Your shoes were sprayed by a skunk, and you decided that it was a good idea to not only bring them in the house, but to leave them in my office, where I work every single day, so that I might enjoy the breathtaking scent of skunk?
B: Well, I didn't put that much thought in to it. I just brought them in so they didn't get sprayed again.
M: Why didn't you leave them downstairs in the "man cave?"
B: Well, I didn't want the room I hang out in to smell like skunk.

Really. What the eff is that about?

Allergic to 31

I realize that I've been an ass and have completely ignored and neglected this little blog as of late. But I have an excuse.

I turned 31.

And I seemingly had some adverse reaction to it which left me cranky and wanting to do nothing but mope around the house in sweatpants and wife beaters. It was pretty ugly.

Then this weekend, the boy and I had a date night with our friends who recently moved back to the area. It was nice. We headed to Frog and Turtle, where they were also celebrating a birthday. Apparently, all I really needed to get out of my funk was a glass of wine, two vodka tonics, an order of Poutine, and some roasted vegetable and goat cheese crepes. Awesome.

Now instead of trekking just 3.5 miles every morning, I've upped the ante to 5 because the fresh cheese curds from that Poutine seem to have made an immediate beeline for my ass.

But, it was damn good going down.

Rain, Rain Go Away

Honest to Christ, it has been raining for an unGODly amount of time. Like, it's seriously redonkulous.

The school-shopping trip to the Big K turned out to be a total bust. It was raining that day too - actually, it was more like a deluge of water just streaming from the sky, leaving ginormous puddles in it's wake, but whatever. They had none of the clothes the kid wanted at Kmart, but we did get to stop at Steve and Barry's where I scored a few cute t-shirts from the Bitten line - which I love. And thanks to Corey, by the way, for pointing out that the store has declared bankruptcy. I'm happy to say that they may be staying in business though, according to the manager of the store whom I chatted up whilst shopping.

One thing I learned about the Bitten line though; it was created only for people that become invisible when they stand sideways. Any woman that has hips is not going to wear that clothing line - ever. Which was disappointing, because I have hips.

In other rambling-style news, we had a bat in the house the other night. Which pretty much made me shit myself. While I cowered on the couch, screaming my bloddy lungs out while the bat circled my head so closely that I could feel the wind beneath it's wings, the boy ran around the house with a brown shirt over his head like a cape, thinking he could chase it out.

Clearly, he's a total fucking moron.

I continued to scream while he wrapped me in a blanket and shoved me in my office with the door closed, and then opened all the doors in the house in hopes that it would fly out. It worked, but not before I was screaming at him too about the possibility that another bat would fly IN. Jesus, I'm surprised our stripper-man cops didn't show up to save the day.

What You Want vs. What You Get

I've always been a big believer in "you get what you ask for."  Even before that damn movie "The Secret" was out, I knew inherently that, if you put out bad vibes, you'd get them back; if you put out happy ones, you'll get them.  It's called karma.

So, in general, I try to be pretty good-natured.  But, over the course of the last several days, I've been beaten down into submission from the karmic-Gods and I don't even know what I did to deserve it.  Here's how it's gone down in my little game of "What You Want vs. What You Get."

What I Want :: To make people laugh.

What I Get :: My brother calling my dad and tattling on me after I blogged about stuff I'd already said to him in person.

What I Want :: A nice little fence around the back yard so the dogs can frolic happily.

What I Get :: A nice 4 1/2 foot fence that took twelve hours to install, multiple trips to Home Depot, hundreds of dollars out of our checking account, and a dog that is apparently crossbred with Super Man because he can jump over it like it's nothing. 

What I Want :: One day to work completely uninterrupted.

What I Get :: 3 hours of chasing a loose dog around the neighborhood while he proudly carries a dead squirrel in his mouth.

What I Want :: To serve my time on jury duty in peace.

What I Get :: A seat next to chatty-cathy whose breath always smells like cat poop.

So what did I do to piss off the karma Gods anyway?  I can think of about 10 people that are going to email me right after they read this and list all the reasons I'm being justly punished.

I've Been a Little Weepy Lately

Which is why I haven't written in a while.

Recently, I've found out that 5 - count 'em - FIVE people that are in my immediate circle of family and friends, are pregnant.  F.I.V.E.

Like, are they drinking special water or something?  And if so, I'm pretty sure it's the same damn water that's running through these faucets and I've got nothing in utero. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

Which makes me weepy. Which is why I haven't been writing.

And it's really such a bummer, because I got great news in the midst of it all - I got the gig with Upromise.com.  So, so excited.  But then I got the phone call that the 5th person was preggo, and my big fat happy balloon deflated pretty fucking quickly.  

Owell, there's always next month, right?

Don't Drink & Diet

Here's a tip......don't decide that you're going to start paying attention to what you eat and then drink two glasses of wine before going out to dinner with your out-laws. Which is exactly what I did last nite......bad move.

Typically, I can have two glasses of wine and be just fine.....of course, that might also include a wedge of brie and some yummy bread which is probably why I can drink two glasses of wine and be just fine. Last nite however, I had the wine without the cheese and bread - save on those extra calories!! When we got ready to leave, I insisted on driving, like "yeah, I'm fine." and at the end of our street I actually had to exit the car and let Dan take the wheel. Explain that to the kid. "Why is mommy not driving?" "What is so funny mommy?" Good Lord. Then when we get to the restaurant, I find that the restrooms don't have 'women' and 'men' on the doors, they say 'buck' and 'doe' instead. Uh-huh. I walked in the 'buck' room.....and until last nite, I had managed to never witness a man's urinal.....can't they put stalls around those things or something? What if a little kid walked in there or, better yet, a drunk woman like me?

Needless to say, we managed to get through the rest of dinner with me doing only mildly annoying things like dropping my silverware and accidentally catapulting my straw out of my voda tonic into Dan's mom's salad......did I just say that? I actually went back for more???

I'm just going to go bury my head in sand now.