There is a Toys for Tots marathon-toy-giveaway-thing at my job. And there are lots of people who participate to give gifts for families like mine. (sarcasm)
A friend of mine, who I will keep anonymous so that the envy won't run green, did so, she chose a little boy, like Diego. She also arrived late, like my family, and had a trunk full of gifts to donate. And I was the selected participant.
I now know what it feels like to win something. I was so excited I didn't even know how to begin to say thank-you.
I met with her, and there was a football (going to Mike), a soccer ball (going to Mike), Clue game (going to Diego to replace the one Mike destroyed and Juno ate), BMX figures (there are two, they each get one), Beyblade (Diego), toy car (Mike). And a couple more things. I feel so blessed. My trunk was full, now my back seat. The problem was where to hide all the toys. Mike is not too far from being a criminal mastermind, the child goes on you tube from my phone, this will be no challenge for my little Kaiser Strozer (Usual Suspects).
I did not have much wrap for the boys, now they have toys to open, lots of them.
*Fastforward to Sunday*
Sunday morning I woke up to a broken fridge, melted ice cream, warm milk, I had to throw out all of the food that spoiled, there was more than I thought. The condomints went to the fridge in the back shed, as did the milk, eggs, cheese, and the rest I could salvage. (My mother in laws fridge for the gross stuff)
Before moving the food, I cleaned out the stinky fridge, there was green stuff, gooey stuff, and gray matter, I windexed the entire thing and re-organized the stinky stuff, possibly worms, mini fish that should be pets and veggies that should have spoiled but had now passed the rotten stage and was in a food cycle stage of its own.
The segregated food fit just right, but nothing else fit. We can't buy another fridge, so it will be fast food until pay day. Lots of cereal days to come.
I dropped Mike off with the mother in law, went to go check on them, found them playing football with a diaper, not a poopy one, let's be grateful for the little things, a pee-peed one, wrapped into a square resembling an egg roll. She threw the ball, Mike caught the ball, I clapped and went back to my disaster.
My father and hubby were working on the fridge, knowing my husband, if he tried to fix it, he would probably end up wiring the fax to the microwave, which would make one hell a trick, fax a picture to the microwave and open the microwave up to a meal, something like they did on Weird Science with that chic with the hooker lips.
I went out for Happy Meals and got a call from my grandma, she desperately wanted me to take her to the store to buy the boys' gifts. And this is where my light bulb went off, "How about the toys I have in the trunk? I have the Simpson's Monopoly, a ball pit, and Club Penguin cards, I'll sell it to you?"
We agreed on a price, I went to her house, emptied the trunk, reloaded the trunk with the charity gifts, made the drop off, exchanged the merchandise for the cash, yes like they do in the corner, and went back into my car to McDonald's.
It's really amazing how things work out sometimes. Thank you Christmas Angel.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Silent Night
It happened. The one nightmare all married couples who live with their in-laws have, finally happened.
During a heated moment of intimacy, the bedroom door burst open, and that's all I have to say about that.
After the door flew open, we instantly became the scene of a double homicide, both of us dropped as dead weight, like the characters of Toy Story when a human is present. Mike is gibbering and running at the side of the bed, he climbs and puts his index finger into my eye. I am awake, but have been in the dark long enough to act asleep with ease. We go into the kitchen and the bright lights cause me to squint, my hair is made up of a pony tail with fly aways dancing about, similar to a cat fight. Except in this fight, the pussy was defeated by a 2 year old.
My mother in law follows, "Milk, he need milk." She proclaims, and that was the reason for the abrupt invasion.
"He no sleep."
I look at Mike, he is spinning in the living room, running wildly in a crack head like fashion.
"We need to drive him, the only thing that will put him to sleep for sure is a ride, we will just drive until he passes out."
"No, that no good, he get used to it, then we always drive for nite nite."
We got into the car, she insisted she drive and we take her car.
She backed up, about an inch away from the hubby's car. I made the sign of the cross and looked forward. She topped speeds of 12 miles per hour, we passed a house with lights and she turned the corner. The woman parked in the front yard of a very nicely manicured house, across the street from the one with all the lights. She turned the radio on, she had a Yo Gabba Gabba CD. Mike clapped and sung along.
After the familiar "waaahhhs" and his delightful screams, she turned the ignition back on and moved forward, we were on top of a sewer and the car bounced and hit the concrete with each inch that we crawled forward.
And here I thought the worst that could happen was the cops come to knock on the window to site us for trespassing on pretty lawns and acting like mental patients, staring at lights and pointing at the sky.
I lowered my head and covered my eyes and forehead with my right hand, as if I were being watched. She continued to drive towards our house, and possibly head home. She pulled into the drive way. We circled the block one time, aside from going back to gawk at the gaudy light display, just one time, that isn't exaclty my plan.
She shut off the car and continued to play the CD, he sang and hummed and clapped.
Now the fun begins. She made me get down to see what he would do, "Try, try."
she wanted me to pretend to leave him, naturally he screamed. I walked over to get him out of the car, he didn't want to get down. She tried, nothing. We sat in the car listening to disco Lance Rock for another song, then she made me try again, this charade lasted till midnight, about 45 minutes. She shut off the radio and then the sirens really started to blare. We pulled the patient out of the car seat, he was convulsing and screaming, I waited to see if neighbors would come out. But since most of them have their hearing aides off at this time, it was just me and her outside. She placed him on the floor and he walked to her apt behind the house. "I take him, he go sleep."
I walked inside and finished what I started, 5 minutes later I walked to my mother in law's suite. He was jumping on the bed and I sat by him. In his hands he held a cassette tape player, the old ones, he pushed play and Korean instrumental music came on, she began to dance, kind of like the hippies around the trees, or the rain Indians asking the gods for rain. He followed, it was quite a sight.
I stood up to leave and he followed. I carried him into the house and he went straight to the TV, he turned it on, I turned it off, he did it manually, I held the remote. I finally dandled my keys and he went wild. He must think we are off to the mall or McDonalds. I took him into my car with no radio, just silence.
We drove in a large square around Tampa, each time we went around 5 minutes passed, after 4 tours of Tampa taking the same route and 20 minutes later, the prince sleeps.
I place him next to my husband, he looks almost angelic, but I know better. It was a quarter passed one when I went to sleep and he woke up at 8:30 am with bells and whistles. Hope your night went better than mine.
During a heated moment of intimacy, the bedroom door burst open, and that's all I have to say about that.
After the door flew open, we instantly became the scene of a double homicide, both of us dropped as dead weight, like the characters of Toy Story when a human is present. Mike is gibbering and running at the side of the bed, he climbs and puts his index finger into my eye. I am awake, but have been in the dark long enough to act asleep with ease. We go into the kitchen and the bright lights cause me to squint, my hair is made up of a pony tail with fly aways dancing about, similar to a cat fight. Except in this fight, the pussy was defeated by a 2 year old.
My mother in law follows, "Milk, he need milk." She proclaims, and that was the reason for the abrupt invasion.
"He no sleep."
I look at Mike, he is spinning in the living room, running wildly in a crack head like fashion.
"We need to drive him, the only thing that will put him to sleep for sure is a ride, we will just drive until he passes out."
"No, that no good, he get used to it, then we always drive for nite nite."
We got into the car, she insisted she drive and we take her car.
She backed up, about an inch away from the hubby's car. I made the sign of the cross and looked forward. She topped speeds of 12 miles per hour, we passed a house with lights and she turned the corner. The woman parked in the front yard of a very nicely manicured house, across the street from the one with all the lights. She turned the radio on, she had a Yo Gabba Gabba CD. Mike clapped and sung along.
After the familiar "waaahhhs" and his delightful screams, she turned the ignition back on and moved forward, we were on top of a sewer and the car bounced and hit the concrete with each inch that we crawled forward.
And here I thought the worst that could happen was the cops come to knock on the window to site us for trespassing on pretty lawns and acting like mental patients, staring at lights and pointing at the sky.
I lowered my head and covered my eyes and forehead with my right hand, as if I were being watched. She continued to drive towards our house, and possibly head home. She pulled into the drive way. We circled the block one time, aside from going back to gawk at the gaudy light display, just one time, that isn't exaclty my plan.
She shut off the car and continued to play the CD, he sang and hummed and clapped.
Now the fun begins. She made me get down to see what he would do, "Try, try."
she wanted me to pretend to leave him, naturally he screamed. I walked over to get him out of the car, he didn't want to get down. She tried, nothing. We sat in the car listening to disco Lance Rock for another song, then she made me try again, this charade lasted till midnight, about 45 minutes. She shut off the radio and then the sirens really started to blare. We pulled the patient out of the car seat, he was convulsing and screaming, I waited to see if neighbors would come out. But since most of them have their hearing aides off at this time, it was just me and her outside. She placed him on the floor and he walked to her apt behind the house. "I take him, he go sleep."
I walked inside and finished what I started, 5 minutes later I walked to my mother in law's suite. He was jumping on the bed and I sat by him. In his hands he held a cassette tape player, the old ones, he pushed play and Korean instrumental music came on, she began to dance, kind of like the hippies around the trees, or the rain Indians asking the gods for rain. He followed, it was quite a sight.
I stood up to leave and he followed. I carried him into the house and he went straight to the TV, he turned it on, I turned it off, he did it manually, I held the remote. I finally dandled my keys and he went wild. He must think we are off to the mall or McDonalds. I took him into my car with no radio, just silence.
We drove in a large square around Tampa, each time we went around 5 minutes passed, after 4 tours of Tampa taking the same route and 20 minutes later, the prince sleeps.
I place him next to my husband, he looks almost angelic, but I know better. It was a quarter passed one when I went to sleep and he woke up at 8:30 am with bells and whistles. Hope your night went better than mine.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Twinkling Lights
After being indoors all day, the kids needed some air. I needed some quiet time, and Juno needed to rest, Mike was torturing him.
I announced "Everyone get dressed, we are going bye-bye." I went to my mother in law's and invited her. After a little hesitation, she finally agreed, I really needed the help, in case Mike escaped the car seat on the highway.
The Chik Fil A had a holiday light display, just what we needed to get into the Christmas spirit. It was almost seven and I figured we would be headed back home at 8ish, the perfect time to have Mike fall asleep in the car.
I gave Mike his bottle, Diego a blanket, the kid was freezing, I played the Chipmunks Christmas CD and drove. My mother in law humming along, I find out on the ride that she has a couple of Coors Lights in her, and she starts counting down on how she only had two left, for some reason I am at fault in this. Her 12 pack was down to 2 because of my problem, she bought it weeks ago, I promised her it would not have lasted that long in my possession.
As I hear her babbling, I glance at the rear view mirror. While grandma was playing the blame game and Alvin was asking for teeth, the boys fell asleep. We were five minutes away, far too early, Mike would be up at 10 pm and ready to play till the wee hours.
We pulled into the parking lot, the boys woke up, their eyes twinkling at the lights, the display is mesmerizing. So many lights, you know Chik Fil A is super Christian because they close on Sundays. There are reindeer, angels, Christmas trees, soldiers, they went all out. We walked up to the display, there were seats lined up in rows, a holiday concert, what fun, I hoped to catch a glimpse. I have Mike D wrapped in his Spongebob blankie and he is just in awe. As we continue to walk my mother in law points out the lights "Look Mikey, Waaah!"
I can not possibly tell you how loud she was, the people eating outside on the tables stopped and looked up, I pulled my mother in law towards the bushes.
"Waaahhhhh Mikey look!" The lady in the drive thru ordering stopped and looked at us, my mother in law continued to talk and point. Has she never seen a light? A Christmas tree? People? The poor little highschooler taking orders looked at me, her braces sparkled with the display, her eyes a blank expression.
Continue to take the order bitch, Lady tell her what you want, nothing to see here! I wanted to shout and instead thought it, it's rude to stare. I continued around the fast food establishment, "Waahhh, wahhh, wahhh!" She wouldn't shut up, and she would point and run up to displays, the more she said it the more Mikey would squeal.
It wasn't an actual word, it was the word "wow" shorted by the "w", dipped in her korean accent, then the syllables extended times 5, the entire word went on for seconds, then the last syllable ended in a faint whisper, like ADD when she focused on the next display it started all over again, it startled me at first, but then I got used to it. I held her hand, told her I was cold, and kept her as close as I could.
So here I am with my barefoot child, yes barefoot. We were only going to order and go, she was so thrilled by the site she had to walk around and look. If she had a camera she would look like a tourist at Disney, with pics of trees, flowers and all kinds of stuff that were pointless to take a picture of. It's a foreign thing.
I struggled with Mike, kept Diego at my side, and held my mother in laws hand firmly, like they do the speshal kids at the McDonalds house. If anyone asks, I am taking her on a field trip.
We walked back towards the car, I steered the mini group past the customers, making a bee line for the parking lot, then fuck-me-sideways, there was an Elvis impersonator singing Elvis holiday songs, doing the nasty hip thing, because the man was clearly in his 60's with shoe polish in his hair, that hip thing is only cute if Shakira does it.
"Wahh, wahh, wahh, Elvis man!" She ran and took a seat in the front row. Dear God if she stands up and sings along, I am leaving her. Let Rudolph bring her ass home. After a song and clapping, she got up and I grabbed her by the hand, "We really gotta go home." She agreed.
She pointed at Elvis, to her we were watching the real thing, apparently Elvis resurrected from the grave for Christmas instead of Jesus, she was speechless, I figured she left her glasses, and obviously needs hearing aides. People looked at me, I tilted my head to the side and smiled. They smiled back in sympathy. SCORE!!!
The wahhs continued till we got back to the car, while in the drive thru they began again, children stared in wonder, we weren't part of the display, but were clearly blending in. I maneuvered the windows up, she lowered them, every time the car inched we played this up and down window symphany until we finally ordered, and I took the first exit on the way home, trying not to hit a snowman or an innocent bystander.
That is now, and will ALWAYS be a once a year trip. Hope you enjoyed this little slice of my life, and they wonder why I need medication.
I announced "Everyone get dressed, we are going bye-bye." I went to my mother in law's and invited her. After a little hesitation, she finally agreed, I really needed the help, in case Mike escaped the car seat on the highway.
The Chik Fil A had a holiday light display, just what we needed to get into the Christmas spirit. It was almost seven and I figured we would be headed back home at 8ish, the perfect time to have Mike fall asleep in the car.
I gave Mike his bottle, Diego a blanket, the kid was freezing, I played the Chipmunks Christmas CD and drove. My mother in law humming along, I find out on the ride that she has a couple of Coors Lights in her, and she starts counting down on how she only had two left, for some reason I am at fault in this. Her 12 pack was down to 2 because of my problem, she bought it weeks ago, I promised her it would not have lasted that long in my possession.
As I hear her babbling, I glance at the rear view mirror. While grandma was playing the blame game and Alvin was asking for teeth, the boys fell asleep. We were five minutes away, far too early, Mike would be up at 10 pm and ready to play till the wee hours.
We pulled into the parking lot, the boys woke up, their eyes twinkling at the lights, the display is mesmerizing. So many lights, you know Chik Fil A is super Christian because they close on Sundays. There are reindeer, angels, Christmas trees, soldiers, they went all out. We walked up to the display, there were seats lined up in rows, a holiday concert, what fun, I hoped to catch a glimpse. I have Mike D wrapped in his Spongebob blankie and he is just in awe. As we continue to walk my mother in law points out the lights "Look Mikey, Waaah!"
I can not possibly tell you how loud she was, the people eating outside on the tables stopped and looked up, I pulled my mother in law towards the bushes.
"Waaahhhhh Mikey look!" The lady in the drive thru ordering stopped and looked at us, my mother in law continued to talk and point. Has she never seen a light? A Christmas tree? People? The poor little highschooler taking orders looked at me, her braces sparkled with the display, her eyes a blank expression.
Continue to take the order bitch, Lady tell her what you want, nothing to see here! I wanted to shout and instead thought it, it's rude to stare. I continued around the fast food establishment, "Waahhh, wahhh, wahhh!" She wouldn't shut up, and she would point and run up to displays, the more she said it the more Mikey would squeal.
It wasn't an actual word, it was the word "wow" shorted by the "w", dipped in her korean accent, then the syllables extended times 5, the entire word went on for seconds, then the last syllable ended in a faint whisper, like ADD when she focused on the next display it started all over again, it startled me at first, but then I got used to it. I held her hand, told her I was cold, and kept her as close as I could.
So here I am with my barefoot child, yes barefoot. We were only going to order and go, she was so thrilled by the site she had to walk around and look. If she had a camera she would look like a tourist at Disney, with pics of trees, flowers and all kinds of stuff that were pointless to take a picture of. It's a foreign thing.
I struggled with Mike, kept Diego at my side, and held my mother in laws hand firmly, like they do the speshal kids at the McDonalds house. If anyone asks, I am taking her on a field trip.
We walked back towards the car, I steered the mini group past the customers, making a bee line for the parking lot, then fuck-me-sideways, there was an Elvis impersonator singing Elvis holiday songs, doing the nasty hip thing, because the man was clearly in his 60's with shoe polish in his hair, that hip thing is only cute if Shakira does it.
"Wahh, wahh, wahh, Elvis man!" She ran and took a seat in the front row. Dear God if she stands up and sings along, I am leaving her. Let Rudolph bring her ass home. After a song and clapping, she got up and I grabbed her by the hand, "We really gotta go home." She agreed.
She pointed at Elvis, to her we were watching the real thing, apparently Elvis resurrected from the grave for Christmas instead of Jesus, she was speechless, I figured she left her glasses, and obviously needs hearing aides. People looked at me, I tilted my head to the side and smiled. They smiled back in sympathy. SCORE!!!
The wahhs continued till we got back to the car, while in the drive thru they began again, children stared in wonder, we weren't part of the display, but were clearly blending in. I maneuvered the windows up, she lowered them, every time the car inched we played this up and down window symphany until we finally ordered, and I took the first exit on the way home, trying not to hit a snowman or an innocent bystander.
That is now, and will ALWAYS be a once a year trip. Hope you enjoyed this little slice of my life, and they wonder why I need medication.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Chestnuts roasting
People probably think I am mean to my mother in law because she has no oven or stove, just a microwave. She doesn't live in a closet people, she has proven herself irresponsible for such luxeries.
Two years ago, I remember it was December because I remember the tree was up.
I woke up to a foul burning smell, it took a minute to register, but once I woke up I opened the door to a house full of smoke. I ran down stairs and there on the stove was a pot of chestnuts, black as the coal that Santa was going to be leaving her ass on Christmas morning, with shiney bows and all. I came up with the gift at that very second.
I shut off the stove, grabbed a towel and placed the pot o charded nuts in the sink. I walked into her room to find my dear mother in law sprawled on her bed with the remote in one hand, on TV a China man getting slapped by a China chick probably for some kinky shit that I can't follow because I am not Korean.
I woke her, she was shocked, the clock read 2 and at just about that time, I popped on the couch and watched a movie. How could I sleep, we opened the back screen door and let the downstairs air out.
"Chestnut." She said.
"I know, but not at 2 in the morning, no more cooking like this." Either she was falling back asleep or she was eyeing me and cursing me in her mind.
No matter, this has happened more than a couple of times. And how did this story come about.
This morning I thought she was cleaning the front yard. I was wrong. She is gathering acorns from the floor and has them out in the sun, in various containers, she hasn't decided if she is going to cook them or put them in a pillow case and use it as a foot massage. Apparently the recession has even the holiday squirrels losing out.
I don't know how she intends to cook up the nuts or acorns, but I hope for all that is holy, that she doesn't use sticks and twigs from the front yard and attempt to bar b que my house in the process.
Later that same day...my mother calls. She has gone shopping and found the perfect gift for my husband. A t-shirt with a squirrel holding an acorn, the shirt read "Can I bust a nut in your hole?" She left the t-shirt at the store and does nothing more than ask if she should go back. I can only pray they sell out or she finds another way to embarrass me.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Michael...a boy and his pot
I have lost count of the ways I have tried to keep this child entertained. We went back to water play today. Walking into the kitchen with no diaper was enough to get me to stop doing dishes and run a bath for a break. Mike needed a short break, so did mommy. And I needed to research.
From my sofa I could look into the bathroom. Trying to google is next to impossible, I am trying to compare the Fisher Price IXL, Mobigo, and the Leapster Explorer. Electronics for toddlers? Where are the days where pots and pans entertained a little boy? Bugs and dirt? Ok, well that he does, but I need him in the house, not out in the open, where his limits are endless and I could get arrested.
I need to know if it will keep him occupied, if I could borrow one a day that would be great, I would analyze his reaction to each of them. If he doesn't understand he slams it on the floor, that would be a "no" check, if he loves it he hides so no one can take it away, taking up hours of his attention (away from me). This is something I am willing to pay top dollar for, if this gave me the free time that I dream of, I am willing to also promote the product, create ads, give online testimonials and even fly my child out for commercials and photo shoots, yes, even travel. I have no problems sitting here waiting to pick him up from the airport.
Dreaming of such a thing I am lost in a daze. Suddenly the sound, the splashing sound. Like Michael Phelps is diving off of the window pane into my gallon sized bathtub. I walk in, the mismatched rug is splattered with water. I stand in place and just stare at the child. He smiles, I can't help but smile back. I sit on the sink and sing the ABC's, he jumps again. My arm goes into position to stop the diving drills. Then the famous crocodile death roll, and we are out of the bathtub.
I wonder just how much trouble he is going to need to be rescued from. I put him down on the rug and he runs to my bedroom, under my covers no doubt.
He reminds me of the movie Friday where they talk about "you can't catch a crack-head", for a moment I rest on the sofa. My child seems to always be high on caffeine, that is the only thing I can think of, now where he gets the drug from, I don't know. I don't have chocolate or soda. At least none that is missing.
But my child likes to do jumps into the bathtub, so he is more Michael Phelps, and I shall dub him Phelps, without the pot.
I know that it will take me a lot of time and energy to put the diaper on, I let him run and drain the battery. Diego jumps in and then Juno, they run from my bed to the living room and back.
I towel the bathroom floor dry and let them run wild, I try to straighten up, I can see the dust on the mirror and glass panels in the bathroom, where does all the dust come from? I turn off the light switch.
There, it's gone.
The towel goes into the dirty laundry bin, making more laundry that I don't want to wash. Going into the boys' room, I look at the toys and head for the drawers, he needs to just wear pajamas today. We are calling it a pajama day. I want to just rest.
Next to the bunk beds are all of my Tupperware, square, rectangle, circle shaped, laying out and sitting in a puddle. My Tupperware, I didn't even realize it was missing, is there nothing sacred anymore!!! He just snatches my Tupperware and uses it as a port-o-potty, his potty is right in the corner. What do I have to do to make him understand which plastic ware to piss in?
After assessing the damage and wrestling my Olympic phenomenon into his Buzz Lightyear pj's I collect the samples, just the right amount of pee to test for all of the recreational drugs 2 year olds take these days.
From my sofa I could look into the bathroom. Trying to google is next to impossible, I am trying to compare the Fisher Price IXL, Mobigo, and the Leapster Explorer. Electronics for toddlers? Where are the days where pots and pans entertained a little boy? Bugs and dirt? Ok, well that he does, but I need him in the house, not out in the open, where his limits are endless and I could get arrested.
I need to know if it will keep him occupied, if I could borrow one a day that would be great, I would analyze his reaction to each of them. If he doesn't understand he slams it on the floor, that would be a "no" check, if he loves it he hides so no one can take it away, taking up hours of his attention (away from me). This is something I am willing to pay top dollar for, if this gave me the free time that I dream of, I am willing to also promote the product, create ads, give online testimonials and even fly my child out for commercials and photo shoots, yes, even travel. I have no problems sitting here waiting to pick him up from the airport.
Dreaming of such a thing I am lost in a daze. Suddenly the sound, the splashing sound. Like Michael Phelps is diving off of the window pane into my gallon sized bathtub. I walk in, the mismatched rug is splattered with water. I stand in place and just stare at the child. He smiles, I can't help but smile back. I sit on the sink and sing the ABC's, he jumps again. My arm goes into position to stop the diving drills. Then the famous crocodile death roll, and we are out of the bathtub.
I wonder just how much trouble he is going to need to be rescued from. I put him down on the rug and he runs to my bedroom, under my covers no doubt.
He reminds me of the movie Friday where they talk about "you can't catch a crack-head", for a moment I rest on the sofa. My child seems to always be high on caffeine, that is the only thing I can think of, now where he gets the drug from, I don't know. I don't have chocolate or soda. At least none that is missing.
But my child likes to do jumps into the bathtub, so he is more Michael Phelps, and I shall dub him Phelps, without the pot.
I know that it will take me a lot of time and energy to put the diaper on, I let him run and drain the battery. Diego jumps in and then Juno, they run from my bed to the living room and back.
I towel the bathroom floor dry and let them run wild, I try to straighten up, I can see the dust on the mirror and glass panels in the bathroom, where does all the dust come from? I turn off the light switch.
There, it's gone.
The towel goes into the dirty laundry bin, making more laundry that I don't want to wash. Going into the boys' room, I look at the toys and head for the drawers, he needs to just wear pajamas today. We are calling it a pajama day. I want to just rest.
Next to the bunk beds are all of my Tupperware, square, rectangle, circle shaped, laying out and sitting in a puddle. My Tupperware, I didn't even realize it was missing, is there nothing sacred anymore!!! He just snatches my Tupperware and uses it as a port-o-potty, his potty is right in the corner. What do I have to do to make him understand which plastic ware to piss in?
After assessing the damage and wrestling my Olympic phenomenon into his Buzz Lightyear pj's I collect the samples, just the right amount of pee to test for all of the recreational drugs 2 year olds take these days.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Oops, I did it again
You know I haven't had the chance to blog, mostly because everyone who watched my child is now petrified of watching the little felon. So I miss you guys.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Haircut Fiasco
It's been ages since I last cut my hair. I needed a new look, a new style, something that took me out of my current funk. I decided on Sunday morning that today was the day. The boys were getting a haircut, I would ride with and update my mane. As we were getting ready, the phone rang, and Lucy (short for Lucifer, my mom's pet name) called that Mike wanted to come home. My dad was already on the way with him, he pulled up before I hung up the call.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Great Escape Part 3
We already know that Mike D left my house to go hang out at the meth house down the street. We also know he darted from my mothers house also. Well here is the one that was left.
I walk into the house and everything is eerily quiet. Something obviously wrong. I walk into the living room to see the sofa in front of the door. That's odd. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clean up my bedroom, clean the bathroom, a load of laundry, check on Mikey.
Instead of knocking, since I seem to have a knack on timing, I call first, my mother in law answers.
"Oh my God, Oh my God, so scary, so scared, ask Diego, ask..." The line went dead, not because of an intruder cutting the lines, she started to hyperventalate and must have hung up on me. I look to Diego, with his head set and Mario videos and point for the headsets to come off.
"What happened?"
"Huh!"
"What happened, I talked to your abuela, she said to ask you, what happened?" The first and only thing in my mind was that a crack head tried to break in, we have had knocks on the door from random junkies asking to use the phone. As if!!!
"Oh, Michael ran away, but it's ok, he was with Juno." Nonchalantly he says this and continues to listen to his you tube video.
The back door flies open and my mother in law comes in carrying Micheal like a dingo.
"He left, one minute and he left. I went get food for Diego, come back, door open, I walk outside, no Micheal. I look in bed, in closet, no Micheal. I take car and Diego go to part, carumba, Michael at park with Juno, is Juno fault." All in one long breath.
"Juno? Michael walked to the park, two blocks away, and it was Juno." She turned a shade of velvet red, the sweat began to prespire, I could see a fainting spell coming.
She spoke, but I just stared at the little human that would one day get me arrested.
"Ball." A couple days at daycare and all he says is ball.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated and had a seat on the sofa.
She had tears in her eyes.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated once again, no wonder the sofa was in front of the door.
My child walked a block up and a block to the left to a park with no supervision.
"Good thing he in daycare." There was another slap in the face. She was so against the notion and now I am sure it was her idea, that's just how it goes.
I poured a shot of whiskey, had three and tried to let the image settle in my mind.
I looked to the doors, the windows, how would I ever restrain this child?
"Me lay down." Yes you do that. Go lay down, leave me with the felon.
I called my mom, who ten minutes later called my grandmother. I dealt with three crying elders whom haven't a clue in the world of how to stop him, and somehow want me to have him evaluated by a psychiatrist, because something isn't right.
I called my husband and have never in all my years heard so many four letter words come out of his mouth. "What he went to the park to buy weed? How the hell did he walk to the park, explain that to me?"
"I wasn't here." Well I wasn't.
The Snoopy teacher took over, wah, wah, wah, wah.... He went on and hung up on me, furious. Absolutely furious, and somehow I was at fault, because this never happened with him, although he doesn't watch him that much, if I would sit and surf the web in front of the boob tube all day, he would never get out either, but shit around here doesn't grow legs and put itself back, someone has to play Molly Maid.
Any ideas on what to do now, aside from deadbolts, we seem to lock eachother out of the house all the time, my hubby has a key to all 3 doors, then my and my eldest have keys only to the side, which has a chain lock, this is a mess, I can't dead bolt the front door, it's my mother's day gift. The sofa stays there. I will just have to teach my eldest how to be a ninja, I can climb a fence, him? Not so much.
I walk into the house and everything is eerily quiet. Something obviously wrong. I walk into the living room to see the sofa in front of the door. That's odd. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clean up my bedroom, clean the bathroom, a load of laundry, check on Mikey.
Instead of knocking, since I seem to have a knack on timing, I call first, my mother in law answers.
"Oh my God, Oh my God, so scary, so scared, ask Diego, ask..." The line went dead, not because of an intruder cutting the lines, she started to hyperventalate and must have hung up on me. I look to Diego, with his head set and Mario videos and point for the headsets to come off.
"What happened?"
"Huh!"
"What happened, I talked to your abuela, she said to ask you, what happened?" The first and only thing in my mind was that a crack head tried to break in, we have had knocks on the door from random junkies asking to use the phone. As if!!!
"Oh, Michael ran away, but it's ok, he was with Juno." Nonchalantly he says this and continues to listen to his you tube video.
The back door flies open and my mother in law comes in carrying Micheal like a dingo.
"He left, one minute and he left. I went get food for Diego, come back, door open, I walk outside, no Micheal. I look in bed, in closet, no Micheal. I take car and Diego go to part, carumba, Michael at park with Juno, is Juno fault." All in one long breath.
"Juno? Michael walked to the park, two blocks away, and it was Juno." She turned a shade of velvet red, the sweat began to prespire, I could see a fainting spell coming.
She spoke, but I just stared at the little human that would one day get me arrested.
"Ball." A couple days at daycare and all he says is ball.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated and had a seat on the sofa.
She had tears in her eyes.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated once again, no wonder the sofa was in front of the door.
My child walked a block up and a block to the left to a park with no supervision.
"Good thing he in daycare." There was another slap in the face. She was so against the notion and now I am sure it was her idea, that's just how it goes.
I poured a shot of whiskey, had three and tried to let the image settle in my mind.
I looked to the doors, the windows, how would I ever restrain this child?
"Me lay down." Yes you do that. Go lay down, leave me with the felon.
I called my mom, who ten minutes later called my grandmother. I dealt with three crying elders whom haven't a clue in the world of how to stop him, and somehow want me to have him evaluated by a psychiatrist, because something isn't right.
I called my husband and have never in all my years heard so many four letter words come out of his mouth. "What he went to the park to buy weed? How the hell did he walk to the park, explain that to me?"
"I wasn't here." Well I wasn't.
The Snoopy teacher took over, wah, wah, wah, wah.... He went on and hung up on me, furious. Absolutely furious, and somehow I was at fault, because this never happened with him, although he doesn't watch him that much, if I would sit and surf the web in front of the boob tube all day, he would never get out either, but shit around here doesn't grow legs and put itself back, someone has to play Molly Maid.
Any ideas on what to do now, aside from deadbolts, we seem to lock eachother out of the house all the time, my hubby has a key to all 3 doors, then my and my eldest have keys only to the side, which has a chain lock, this is a mess, I can't dead bolt the front door, it's my mother's day gift. The sofa stays there. I will just have to teach my eldest how to be a ninja, I can climb a fence, him? Not so much.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Time out for Granny
Mike D's first day was fine, I dropped him off, waited for the tears, and as I walked out the door called his name for a kiss good-bye. He looked at me as though he smelled a fart. I was merely taking him away from toys, he looked back at me confused, I left.
Day two was a little more like what I expected, he started to kick the back of my car seat when I pulled in, I pulled him out of the car seat and the teacher literally had to peel him off of me.
Day three started in bed, he refused to get out. After a good lucha libre match, we were on our way, I drove as fast as I could, within the speed limit, and he wailed like an ambulance which was quite proper for the moment.
My tears were held back, I hated to hear him cry, but he was at the point that no one wanted to watch him. I was going to have to start bribing, and I can't afford scratch offs and cold cream, not with their high demands.
I called the day care to check on him and was told that he was fine once I left, he did cry, but not for longer than five minutes. My heart fluttered. However, there was another matter that I now had to deal with. Again, secrets kept from me from my frenemies.
I called my mother in law. "Are you picking up Michael early from day care?"
"No, I just get there to watch, make sure she ok. She just sit there."
"She said you are getting there much earlier than wake-up time." I waited.
"Yes, I go fifteen minute early only, I no make noise, I sit corner, watch kids, watch her, see what she doing. Mikey still sleep."
She is a voyeur. She has been arriving early to the day care to watch what the owner does while they sleep. What is now happening is that when the owner sees the car pull up, she immediately lifts Michael from the cot and waits for her at the door with the child in a lethargic state, he must think he is going through the Wonderland tunnel, waking up with wierd looking humans where nothing seems logical.
"You can't do that, you have to go at three on the dot."
"She no let him sleep, she bring him out asleep, then seven pounds of pee pee in his diaper, she no good." That was her logic. Forget the fact that she is playing big brother by the mega blocks, it must be that surveillance camera instinct with her side job, watching and following people in a flea market, stalking those who may steel the shiny sequined fashionable shirts on sale. *snickers*
"Who likes to be stared at in the still of the dark, she has all those kids napping and here you come to sit at circle time in the corner to stare, of course she has him ready, she wants you to stay outside. Stop going early and quit scaring her." I could hear her puffing away at her Virginia Slims.
"Ok, I go 3:15." Did I hear her right?
"No, three o'clock. No 3:15! You go three o'clock." I slowly sounded off the vowels in my attempt to get her to understand what I am saying since I can't speak Korean.
***
I call her on the cell phone at 3:15 pm giving her enough time to do her inquisition and strap Mike D in the car.
"Uh huh." That would be her hello.
"How's Mikey?" I waited to hear him in the background.
"Me go now, me watchee teevee."
Inhale, exhale...
My brain is ready to burst, but in a work setting I can't scream, and driving home to beat her is not an option. If I argue she could get nervous and get into an accident, been there, done that. So I smile and look into my customer-service-mirror where I can see myself smile as I talk, my teeth have a hard time parting, I manage to tell her, "Ok, drive safe, call me when you get home."
Really is it that difficult to drive somewhere at a specific time, this is precisely why I do not count on her for anything that has to do with a schedule, aside for her owl like ways, she just cannot adjust herself to human time, she sleeps during the day and watches poker all night long, I am waiting to hear a cock a doodle doo at six in the morning to mark off the time adjustment in her body.
She called to tell me that he was fine, and she would be watching tv. No one could have ever prepared me for what happened next.
(It will be in the next blog, kinda long.)
Day two was a little more like what I expected, he started to kick the back of my car seat when I pulled in, I pulled him out of the car seat and the teacher literally had to peel him off of me.
Day three started in bed, he refused to get out. After a good lucha libre match, we were on our way, I drove as fast as I could, within the speed limit, and he wailed like an ambulance which was quite proper for the moment.
My tears were held back, I hated to hear him cry, but he was at the point that no one wanted to watch him. I was going to have to start bribing, and I can't afford scratch offs and cold cream, not with their high demands.
I called the day care to check on him and was told that he was fine once I left, he did cry, but not for longer than five minutes. My heart fluttered. However, there was another matter that I now had to deal with. Again, secrets kept from me from my frenemies.
I called my mother in law. "Are you picking up Michael early from day care?"
"No, I just get there to watch, make sure she ok. She just sit there."
"She said you are getting there much earlier than wake-up time." I waited.
"Yes, I go fifteen minute early only, I no make noise, I sit corner, watch kids, watch her, see what she doing. Mikey still sleep."
She is a voyeur. She has been arriving early to the day care to watch what the owner does while they sleep. What is now happening is that when the owner sees the car pull up, she immediately lifts Michael from the cot and waits for her at the door with the child in a lethargic state, he must think he is going through the Wonderland tunnel, waking up with wierd looking humans where nothing seems logical.
"You can't do that, you have to go at three on the dot."
"She no let him sleep, she bring him out asleep, then seven pounds of pee pee in his diaper, she no good." That was her logic. Forget the fact that she is playing big brother by the mega blocks, it must be that surveillance camera instinct with her side job, watching and following people in a flea market, stalking those who may steel the shiny sequined fashionable shirts on sale. *snickers*
"Who likes to be stared at in the still of the dark, she has all those kids napping and here you come to sit at circle time in the corner to stare, of course she has him ready, she wants you to stay outside. Stop going early and quit scaring her." I could hear her puffing away at her Virginia Slims.
"Ok, I go 3:15." Did I hear her right?
"No, three o'clock. No 3:15! You go three o'clock." I slowly sounded off the vowels in my attempt to get her to understand what I am saying since I can't speak Korean.
***
I call her on the cell phone at 3:15 pm giving her enough time to do her inquisition and strap Mike D in the car.
"Uh huh." That would be her hello.
"How's Mikey?" I waited to hear him in the background.
"Me go now, me watchee teevee."
Inhale, exhale...
My brain is ready to burst, but in a work setting I can't scream, and driving home to beat her is not an option. If I argue she could get nervous and get into an accident, been there, done that. So I smile and look into my customer-service-mirror where I can see myself smile as I talk, my teeth have a hard time parting, I manage to tell her, "Ok, drive safe, call me when you get home."
Really is it that difficult to drive somewhere at a specific time, this is precisely why I do not count on her for anything that has to do with a schedule, aside for her owl like ways, she just cannot adjust herself to human time, she sleeps during the day and watches poker all night long, I am waiting to hear a cock a doodle doo at six in the morning to mark off the time adjustment in her body.
She called to tell me that he was fine, and she would be watching tv. No one could have ever prepared me for what happened next.
(It will be in the next blog, kinda long.)
Monday, November 8, 2010
Daycare Evaluation
I drove to the daycare, it was like strutting through town in the donkeys as the Three Amigos, the directions by my mother were simple because they were too good to be true. We were searching for a center and should have been looking for a house. We drove passed and made a three way u-turn at a neighbors. Found it, just hoped she would not be scared away by any of the investigating squad.
The daycare owner was very nice and in her 40's, the room that held the class was small but enough space for the kids to run around, with her keeping an eye, making sure none escaped. She answered our questions, and when my mother in law would ask something, she would look to me to translate.
She was licensed and had a schedule, the children didn't need to necessarily follow the schedule, however most did.
She went over the daily agenda, she even cooked their lunch, homemade meals.
"All the children lay down at noon and nap until 2:30 pm, there is no exception."
She was very direct and seemed to have a handle on her class.
"And if they don't want to nap?" I had to ask, almost like a warning for her.
"He will nap, if not he can lay there until it's time to wake up." She didn't know what I was about to enroll into her little Indian tribe. A little Asian-Puerto Rican-Cuban toddler was just what she needed to shake things up, a mutiny was surely in her future, scalping included.
"I can assure you that he will behave, he will also include himself in all of the activities as well as act accordingly. It may take a couple of days, but it will happen." She was doubtless.
Was her last name Christ? I was ready to give her my Zephyrhills bottles from the trunk of the car to see what she could do with those. If she did turn them into wine, she would need them more than me.
She walked me and the investigative trio out to see the back, there was a wooden fence outside of a chain-link fence heading directly into a covered lanai with sun faded toys and plastic cars, abused and used as weapons by the finest toddlers of West Tampa. There was no way anyone could get over those fences, this place was like Alcatraz.
"I speak to the kids in Spanish, we have a little Russian girl and most children speak two languages." This was a plus, he would be at daycare and Spanish 1.
I looked to my mother who smiled from ear to ear, to my mother in law who shook her head vehemently to show me her disgust of the daycare center, her eyes were short straight slits, not that they were much different than usual, but her smile matched her eyes, she was not thrilled.
The daycare owner handed me the paperwork, I told her I would have to discuss the final decision with my husband and left with a smile.
The car ride back home was worse than a presidential debate, they bickered over the care, the antics of the mini-felon, who was at fault and who would take and pick him up, the more they argued the more they realized this was for the best. My mother threated to leave my mother in law at the daycare in the event she blocked this whole operation from being executed.
"I am sure she can add a little Korean girl to her class and complete her melting pot of children. You could dance and perform when I pick you up, like the dolls in the "It's a Small World" ride."
Before we made it home, my mother in law decided that she would pick him up, she didn't really leave my mother with a choice, my mother didn't battle this one out.
The deal was I drop him off in the morning at 7:15 am and mommy in law dearest would do the honor of picking up Mike D.
All I had to take was his cereal for the milk, diapers and a daily change of clothes, the prayers for the daycare owner would be recited on the way to work.
The daycare owner was very nice and in her 40's, the room that held the class was small but enough space for the kids to run around, with her keeping an eye, making sure none escaped. She answered our questions, and when my mother in law would ask something, she would look to me to translate.
She was licensed and had a schedule, the children didn't need to necessarily follow the schedule, however most did.
She went over the daily agenda, she even cooked their lunch, homemade meals.
"All the children lay down at noon and nap until 2:30 pm, there is no exception."
She was very direct and seemed to have a handle on her class.
"And if they don't want to nap?" I had to ask, almost like a warning for her.
"He will nap, if not he can lay there until it's time to wake up." She didn't know what I was about to enroll into her little Indian tribe. A little Asian-Puerto Rican-Cuban toddler was just what she needed to shake things up, a mutiny was surely in her future, scalping included.
"I can assure you that he will behave, he will also include himself in all of the activities as well as act accordingly. It may take a couple of days, but it will happen." She was doubtless.
Was her last name Christ? I was ready to give her my Zephyrhills bottles from the trunk of the car to see what she could do with those. If she did turn them into wine, she would need them more than me.
She walked me and the investigative trio out to see the back, there was a wooden fence outside of a chain-link fence heading directly into a covered lanai with sun faded toys and plastic cars, abused and used as weapons by the finest toddlers of West Tampa. There was no way anyone could get over those fences, this place was like Alcatraz.
"I speak to the kids in Spanish, we have a little Russian girl and most children speak two languages." This was a plus, he would be at daycare and Spanish 1.
I looked to my mother who smiled from ear to ear, to my mother in law who shook her head vehemently to show me her disgust of the daycare center, her eyes were short straight slits, not that they were much different than usual, but her smile matched her eyes, she was not thrilled.
The daycare owner handed me the paperwork, I told her I would have to discuss the final decision with my husband and left with a smile.
The car ride back home was worse than a presidential debate, they bickered over the care, the antics of the mini-felon, who was at fault and who would take and pick him up, the more they argued the more they realized this was for the best. My mother threated to leave my mother in law at the daycare in the event she blocked this whole operation from being executed.
"I am sure she can add a little Korean girl to her class and complete her melting pot of children. You could dance and perform when I pick you up, like the dolls in the "It's a Small World" ride."
Before we made it home, my mother in law decided that she would pick him up, she didn't really leave my mother with a choice, my mother didn't battle this one out.
The deal was I drop him off in the morning at 7:15 am and mommy in law dearest would do the honor of picking up Mike D.
All I had to take was his cereal for the milk, diapers and a daily change of clothes, the prayers for the daycare owner would be recited on the way to work.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
One Minute
Months ago, daycare was considered a four-letter word within the vicinity of my 2 year old and his caregivers, Thing 1 and Thing 2. That all has changed. It only took a minute.
Whenever the caller ID on my cell phone shows that the call is coming from my mother's house, the Psycho music should begin to play, there is hardly ever anything good coming out of those calls.
"Oh my God, only one minute, just one minute. I went to pee and he disappeared."
I can only assume she is talking about Mike D, she wouldn't be this concerned over my father's disappearance. At this point I can only wonder if she has called me with his reappearance or if I must call in the swat team.
"Did you find him?"
"He was in the middle of the street, yes I found him. He was in the kitchen with me, I went to pee and went back to the kitchen and he was gone. He closed the door and I didn't even notice, then I started looking and he was there."
"He's ok, it's ok." That little shit!
"I can't do this. I have to cook for your dad by the time he leaves at 2 pm, I have to clean, I can't keep him, he is too much." Her voice was shaky and I could hear her eyes swelling. Mike D has put us through alot, from the moment he was conceived.
"He walked out the door and all you see is the little turd in the middle of the street with that damn red ball, it's bigger than he is. In the middle of the street!"
She kept apologizing and there really was no need, I knew this was coming.
"Mom, I can get him in a daycare, it's ok. Call the neighbor lady, see if she can squeeze him in."
Later that day, when I walked into my mother's back porch, it looked like there was an intervention ready to commence.
My mother in law sat on the palm tree couch, my mother paced. She has been in the process of chain-calling potential daycares and both had been chain-smoking. Mike D was emptying the drawers of bras and panties, the cost of silence.
They went back and forth, exchanging horror stories and trying to figure out who could watch him what hours, there was no happy medium, they both had upcoming visits to the doctors and dentists, and trips to the casino. I sat there as a spectator. If I could only pack the kids and move everyone to Alaska, this would be pointless.
The phone rang and my mother looked up at me, "It's her."
I looked to my mother in law, "Who is her?"
"Lady watch Mikey, no good, no good."
"No good for who? You, me or her?"
"I watch Mikey, she no watch Mikey good, he very different."
"He isn't retarded and he isn't a prodigy, he is what they call ADHD or exceptionally spoiled."
My mom was pacing in the yard, smoking like she needed to catch up to the little Korean chimney. She hung up the phone and walked in.
"She needs to meet you and him. She can have up to 6 children, she has 5, she sounds promising. I think we are gonna like her." She smiled, I smiled. Then my mother in law chimed in.
"She stupid, how she watch 6 kids, she no watch Mikey, no good." My mother in law was already becoming the brick ball, there was a battle brewing. "He bad boy."
"You can't tell her that, we are all going to go and the day we get there and he is outside with the keys to the house, smoking a cigar, that will be the day we pull him." My mother was not playing games. "He is a curious little boy, who needs to play and be social with other kids.
"She doesn't need to know we are sending over a monster, we will just scare her, and then she will reject him. He is too young rejection, you just sit there and smile." My mother said this and glared at my mother in law.
"We are all going?" I asked.
"All of us, now time to get Mikey decent looking." She picked up the child rummaging in the undergarments and came out with a polite looking toddler, free of dirt and the waves in his hair somewhat controlled, now if only she bought it.
We all jumped in the car and headed for the daycare.
Whenever the caller ID on my cell phone shows that the call is coming from my mother's house, the Psycho music should begin to play, there is hardly ever anything good coming out of those calls.
"Oh my God, only one minute, just one minute. I went to pee and he disappeared."
I can only assume she is talking about Mike D, she wouldn't be this concerned over my father's disappearance. At this point I can only wonder if she has called me with his reappearance or if I must call in the swat team.
"Did you find him?"
"He was in the middle of the street, yes I found him. He was in the kitchen with me, I went to pee and went back to the kitchen and he was gone. He closed the door and I didn't even notice, then I started looking and he was there."
"He's ok, it's ok." That little shit!
"I can't do this. I have to cook for your dad by the time he leaves at 2 pm, I have to clean, I can't keep him, he is too much." Her voice was shaky and I could hear her eyes swelling. Mike D has put us through alot, from the moment he was conceived.
"He walked out the door and all you see is the little turd in the middle of the street with that damn red ball, it's bigger than he is. In the middle of the street!"
She kept apologizing and there really was no need, I knew this was coming.
"Mom, I can get him in a daycare, it's ok. Call the neighbor lady, see if she can squeeze him in."
Later that day, when I walked into my mother's back porch, it looked like there was an intervention ready to commence.
My mother in law sat on the palm tree couch, my mother paced. She has been in the process of chain-calling potential daycares and both had been chain-smoking. Mike D was emptying the drawers of bras and panties, the cost of silence.
They went back and forth, exchanging horror stories and trying to figure out who could watch him what hours, there was no happy medium, they both had upcoming visits to the doctors and dentists, and trips to the casino. I sat there as a spectator. If I could only pack the kids and move everyone to Alaska, this would be pointless.
The phone rang and my mother looked up at me, "It's her."
I looked to my mother in law, "Who is her?"
"Lady watch Mikey, no good, no good."
"No good for who? You, me or her?"
"I watch Mikey, she no watch Mikey good, he very different."
"He isn't retarded and he isn't a prodigy, he is what they call ADHD or exceptionally spoiled."
My mom was pacing in the yard, smoking like she needed to catch up to the little Korean chimney. She hung up the phone and walked in.
"She needs to meet you and him. She can have up to 6 children, she has 5, she sounds promising. I think we are gonna like her." She smiled, I smiled. Then my mother in law chimed in.
"She stupid, how she watch 6 kids, she no watch Mikey, no good." My mother in law was already becoming the brick ball, there was a battle brewing. "He bad boy."
"You can't tell her that, we are all going to go and the day we get there and he is outside with the keys to the house, smoking a cigar, that will be the day we pull him." My mother was not playing games. "He is a curious little boy, who needs to play and be social with other kids.
"She doesn't need to know we are sending over a monster, we will just scare her, and then she will reject him. He is too young rejection, you just sit there and smile." My mother said this and glared at my mother in law.
"We are all going?" I asked.
"All of us, now time to get Mikey decent looking." She picked up the child rummaging in the undergarments and came out with a polite looking toddler, free of dirt and the waves in his hair somewhat controlled, now if only she bought it.
We all jumped in the car and headed for the daycare.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Can not shave with Mike D
There are certain things that you can't do for certain reasons (kids) and the time comes when you think "Eh, he's old enough now, sure I can do it." Then you are proven wrong within the first five minutes of your attempt.
Shaving should be something I do every morning in the shower, like my mother tells me to. Except when I shave standing up I end up spotting pants because I nick every square inch of my legs from ankle to thigh. And if it's too cold or too hot then I get razor burn, I came to the conclusion I need to have luke warm water, the water must be running and the legs up in the air resting on the soap holder. This sounds odd, but it's the only way that this works for me.
Today I got a mosquito bite and showed it off at work, not caring that it had been 3 weeks since I shaved, I lifted up my pant leg and shocked the gals at the office. Rosa was astonished and decided to give me a lecture on hair etiquette. TMI all the way. We discussed trimming and shaving techniques.
She made me promise to go home and shave and she would check on me tomorrow, I had no choice. I thought that Mike D would be more civil in his ways. Walking through the door I had little time to ask my mother in law to watch him for me to shave. She was out the door, leaving a trail of dust in her departure. I was on my own.
I prepped a bottle and placed the child on the sofa. Jumped in the tub, water running.
I had one leg up and half done, when in comes a child bearing gifts. For the past week Mike D has taken control of the laundry basket and pulls it around like a wagon filled with all of his toys, he can't possibly carry everything, it's actually ingenious and rather greedy.
He tossed the balls, all four of them into the bathtub, I threw them back out with my free hand, he came back with Legos, tossed the balls back into the tub, next the Legos. I finished shaving one leg and screamed at him, tossing back the toys out of the tub into the laundry basket, he disappeared. I lathered up the second leg and went a little higher and lathered up the cobwebs.
Mike D came back in with the Star Wars stick swords, tossed them into the tub and disappeared again, I gave up my quest for smooth legs. Stood up and in walks Mike D with nothing but a golf club, I didn't even know we owned a golf club, no one plays golf. And where was his diaper?
He climbed into the tub with a golf club to help javelin in. I fought with the closet sized bathroom and all of the items dragged into it. I still had soapy suds in crevices that only should hold soap for so long. I dripped to the bed room with all of the toys and the basket, came into the tub and Mike D was standing on the outer wall, he slipped and fell causing a grand splash that surprised him. This began an Olympic diving practice drill for the same grand splash, the child was chasing the dragon. I grabbed half a dozen towels and made a trail to the bedroom, the wood floors are already destroyed but why wet them and further make it lift. I pulled the child out and diapered and clothed him, I wore nothing and now I had goosebumps, my shaving chances were gone.
One leg shaved, one leg not, a burning tata and a drenched bathroom, my entire evening was spent picking up this mess, I just added some pinesol and skated around with the towels to mop and glow the floor. Mike D would come in from time to time, I turned him around and walked him to his room, he has a knack for finding trouble.
I ended up finishing the shaving job at 11 pm and found out the golf club was my mother in law's security guard, like a baseball bat, but she has an old rusty golf club, we don't want to just bust up intruders, we also want to give them gangrene. It makes sense. Note to self: Do not shave when caring for Michael.
Shaving should be something I do every morning in the shower, like my mother tells me to. Except when I shave standing up I end up spotting pants because I nick every square inch of my legs from ankle to thigh. And if it's too cold or too hot then I get razor burn, I came to the conclusion I need to have luke warm water, the water must be running and the legs up in the air resting on the soap holder. This sounds odd, but it's the only way that this works for me.
Today I got a mosquito bite and showed it off at work, not caring that it had been 3 weeks since I shaved, I lifted up my pant leg and shocked the gals at the office. Rosa was astonished and decided to give me a lecture on hair etiquette. TMI all the way. We discussed trimming and shaving techniques.
She made me promise to go home and shave and she would check on me tomorrow, I had no choice. I thought that Mike D would be more civil in his ways. Walking through the door I had little time to ask my mother in law to watch him for me to shave. She was out the door, leaving a trail of dust in her departure. I was on my own.
I prepped a bottle and placed the child on the sofa. Jumped in the tub, water running.
I had one leg up and half done, when in comes a child bearing gifts. For the past week Mike D has taken control of the laundry basket and pulls it around like a wagon filled with all of his toys, he can't possibly carry everything, it's actually ingenious and rather greedy.
He tossed the balls, all four of them into the bathtub, I threw them back out with my free hand, he came back with Legos, tossed the balls back into the tub, next the Legos. I finished shaving one leg and screamed at him, tossing back the toys out of the tub into the laundry basket, he disappeared. I lathered up the second leg and went a little higher and lathered up the cobwebs.
Mike D came back in with the Star Wars stick swords, tossed them into the tub and disappeared again, I gave up my quest for smooth legs. Stood up and in walks Mike D with nothing but a golf club, I didn't even know we owned a golf club, no one plays golf. And where was his diaper?
He climbed into the tub with a golf club to help javelin in. I fought with the closet sized bathroom and all of the items dragged into it. I still had soapy suds in crevices that only should hold soap for so long. I dripped to the bed room with all of the toys and the basket, came into the tub and Mike D was standing on the outer wall, he slipped and fell causing a grand splash that surprised him. This began an Olympic diving practice drill for the same grand splash, the child was chasing the dragon. I grabbed half a dozen towels and made a trail to the bedroom, the wood floors are already destroyed but why wet them and further make it lift. I pulled the child out and diapered and clothed him, I wore nothing and now I had goosebumps, my shaving chances were gone.
One leg shaved, one leg not, a burning tata and a drenched bathroom, my entire evening was spent picking up this mess, I just added some pinesol and skated around with the towels to mop and glow the floor. Mike D would come in from time to time, I turned him around and walked him to his room, he has a knack for finding trouble.
I ended up finishing the shaving job at 11 pm and found out the golf club was my mother in law's security guard, like a baseball bat, but she has an old rusty golf club, we don't want to just bust up intruders, we also want to give them gangrene. It makes sense. Note to self: Do not shave when caring for Michael.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Four Letter Word
Now a days bullying is a big deal, and I am against it like any other mother, so when my mom called me to tell me that my nine year old was getting bullied, I wanted to go beat down a fourth grader.
I called the school, only to be told that there was a committee meeting, and so I left a message. Waited for the call back that never came, I will call back tomorrow.
I called back my mom's and talked to my son.
"How was school?" I started.
"Good." He lied.
"I know someone is picking on you."
He gasped, "How did you know?"
"Mommies know everything." Aside from the fact that my motor mouthed mother called me as she would call anyone about anything that she found out, he should only take is as a fact of life that mothers have eyes and ears everywhere.
"Well..." He told me that at the basketball court after school, another child was telling him that he was sitting in a reserved area (right there I know the child is a nitwit, there are no reserved areas on the basketball court) and he only lets his friends sit there. They are all huddled together like cattle separated by their grade levels. He said that the kid is nice to him, but only when there are no other boys left to talk to, basically my child is his last resort.
"But mommy when he called me a two word bad word I didn't move or listen to him."
Well that's dandy but that was only for one day, the other days he did as the brat told him and moved away, the area is not the same, they change places daily, and Diego also told me that he was fourth in line and the brat told him that only the first, second, third and fifth kids in line could sit there. Don't worry Diego he won't be passing any elementary classes if his numbers are out of whack.
"What did he call you?" Curiosity killed me.
"Well the poop word that starts with a "c" and the female dog word."
I know all about female dogs, but the "c" word threw me for a loop.
I watch HBO documentaries and the strippers call each other coo-cunt bitches, I don't have a clue as to what a coo-cunt is, I have no idea where to ask for specifics or pictures to see what one looks like.
I thought more and wondered if he isn't spelling shit right, kids should know how to spell shit, if not, being the son of a struggling and starving writer I should teach him.
Then it dawned on me, it's possible that the boy called him a cock bitch, it makes no earthly sense but could be.
"Are you sure it doesn't start with an "s"?"
I had to ask, if I was going to report this brat I needed to know what he called my angel, and my angel is no cock-bitch or cunt-bitch for that matter, where are these children learning their vulgarity from, their drop out siblings possibly.
"No mommy, it's definitely a "c" I can tell ya that, it's c-a-c-a."
Well my child is no caca-bitch. But I will show him caca, now that I know the details and he wants to go around calling people caca stuff I only need to figure out how to go under the radar at school. I am going to have to use Fancy (my sister's abused polmeranian cat, she shaves it like a lion, and the defenseless creature can only sit and then parade around my mother's house like a piece of furniture)
If I get some cat poop, or caca, from the litter box, the really wet nasty ones with little litter attached, I can stuff it in a ziplock and have Diego crawl back into the classroom, with his korean ninja like ancestry blood, I mean if Ralph Macchio or the Will Smith kid could do it, a child from korean descent should have no problem stealthily sneaking into the classroom and stuffing the cat poop, or caca, into the kid's book bag, then we would see who is a caca bitch.
Now to plan out the blueprints and get Diego to learn some moves, I am going to get the chopsticks and go out mosquito hunting tonight.
I called the school, only to be told that there was a committee meeting, and so I left a message. Waited for the call back that never came, I will call back tomorrow.
I called back my mom's and talked to my son.
"How was school?" I started.
"Good." He lied.
"I know someone is picking on you."
He gasped, "How did you know?"
"Mommies know everything." Aside from the fact that my motor mouthed mother called me as she would call anyone about anything that she found out, he should only take is as a fact of life that mothers have eyes and ears everywhere.
"Well..." He told me that at the basketball court after school, another child was telling him that he was sitting in a reserved area (right there I know the child is a nitwit, there are no reserved areas on the basketball court) and he only lets his friends sit there. They are all huddled together like cattle separated by their grade levels. He said that the kid is nice to him, but only when there are no other boys left to talk to, basically my child is his last resort.
"But mommy when he called me a two word bad word I didn't move or listen to him."
Well that's dandy but that was only for one day, the other days he did as the brat told him and moved away, the area is not the same, they change places daily, and Diego also told me that he was fourth in line and the brat told him that only the first, second, third and fifth kids in line could sit there. Don't worry Diego he won't be passing any elementary classes if his numbers are out of whack.
"What did he call you?" Curiosity killed me.
"Well the poop word that starts with a "c" and the female dog word."
I know all about female dogs, but the "c" word threw me for a loop.
I watch HBO documentaries and the strippers call each other coo-cunt bitches, I don't have a clue as to what a coo-cunt is, I have no idea where to ask for specifics or pictures to see what one looks like.
I thought more and wondered if he isn't spelling shit right, kids should know how to spell shit, if not, being the son of a struggling and starving writer I should teach him.
Then it dawned on me, it's possible that the boy called him a cock bitch, it makes no earthly sense but could be.
"Are you sure it doesn't start with an "s"?"
I had to ask, if I was going to report this brat I needed to know what he called my angel, and my angel is no cock-bitch or cunt-bitch for that matter, where are these children learning their vulgarity from, their drop out siblings possibly.
"No mommy, it's definitely a "c" I can tell ya that, it's c-a-c-a."
Well my child is no caca-bitch. But I will show him caca, now that I know the details and he wants to go around calling people caca stuff I only need to figure out how to go under the radar at school. I am going to have to use Fancy (my sister's abused polmeranian cat, she shaves it like a lion, and the defenseless creature can only sit and then parade around my mother's house like a piece of furniture)
If I get some cat poop, or caca, from the litter box, the really wet nasty ones with little litter attached, I can stuff it in a ziplock and have Diego crawl back into the classroom, with his korean ninja like ancestry blood, I mean if Ralph Macchio or the Will Smith kid could do it, a child from korean descent should have no problem stealthily sneaking into the classroom and stuffing the cat poop, or caca, into the kid's book bag, then we would see who is a caca bitch.
Now to plan out the blueprints and get Diego to learn some moves, I am going to get the chopsticks and go out mosquito hunting tonight.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Eagle has Landed
Picking up my mother in law was more joyful than I could have ever imagined.
If it were legal I would have stood outside the airport the day before, waiting in a tent, just like they do on Thanksgiving, as if they were giving away plasmas for a nickel.
I asked for the day off, her flight came in at 10:30 am on Friday.
On Wednesday, she called that the flight would come in at 2:30 pm, the next day I rescheduled my time off at work, considering her arrival, getting off the flight and grabbing her luggage, if I left work at 2 I would get to the airport at 2:30 ish and wait it out. I didn't wait for 2:00, I was out the door at 1:50 pm, the drive was suspenseful, what were the chances she missed her flight, or got delayed, or didn't get on the flight at all, the odds were against me.
I drove into the airport, one minor detail was not clear to me, the flight, or the airline. I drove in circles and the phone rang. My mother.
"I've been trying to call you!"
"What happened?"
"Her flight comes in at 5:30 pm."
Silence, then "I will see you in five minutes."
I walked into my mom's house and she gave me the phone that my mother in law called from, I dialed, a young man answered, speaking perfect English, "Hi Sir, did a little Korean woman use your phone earlier?"
"Yes, but she left hours ago?"
"Do you know where, what flight?"
"No, sorry."
"Ok, thanks for letting her use your phone."
"Mom!!! She is going around using strangers cell phones, she will probably be hitchhiking over if this becomes a habit."
We sat and waited, at 5 pm the phone rings. "Where are you?" in a very Korean accent in the language of spanish.
"Where are you?" I responded.
"I wait and wait, and wait, no rush, but I wait here."
I look over to my mom, "She is waiting for us."
We resorted to immagrants and all plopped into the circus car, how we had managed extra space, I don't know, but no one wanted to be left behind, it was me, my mom, and the two little ones.
I get to the airport realize what I forgot, pick up my cell and call the number back, wondering which airline, she turns me into an idiot with ease.
"Hi there, was a little Korean woman using your phone."
Another young man spoke into the phone, "Yes, she was in the smoking section, I am not there anymore."
"And which airline area?"
"American Airlines."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
We begin to drive around and are rushed off to circle a second time, no sighting of a small Korean woman, well they all look alike, but we didn't see her.
After the second rounding we spotted her, she had the cigarette dangling, ash two inches long, I walked up and hugged her, she looked well. She smiled, she was tired, and she looked like an extra on a Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris movie, those yellow tinted sunglassed, I didn't know they still made those.
After packing her up and exchanging hellos, hugs and kisses, I had the army complete, now back to the battlefield of life with my elderly ladies.
If it were legal I would have stood outside the airport the day before, waiting in a tent, just like they do on Thanksgiving, as if they were giving away plasmas for a nickel.
I asked for the day off, her flight came in at 10:30 am on Friday.
On Wednesday, she called that the flight would come in at 2:30 pm, the next day I rescheduled my time off at work, considering her arrival, getting off the flight and grabbing her luggage, if I left work at 2 I would get to the airport at 2:30 ish and wait it out. I didn't wait for 2:00, I was out the door at 1:50 pm, the drive was suspenseful, what were the chances she missed her flight, or got delayed, or didn't get on the flight at all, the odds were against me.
I drove into the airport, one minor detail was not clear to me, the flight, or the airline. I drove in circles and the phone rang. My mother.
"I've been trying to call you!"
"What happened?"
"Her flight comes in at 5:30 pm."
Silence, then "I will see you in five minutes."
I walked into my mom's house and she gave me the phone that my mother in law called from, I dialed, a young man answered, speaking perfect English, "Hi Sir, did a little Korean woman use your phone earlier?"
"Yes, but she left hours ago?"
"Do you know where, what flight?"
"No, sorry."
"Ok, thanks for letting her use your phone."
"Mom!!! She is going around using strangers cell phones, she will probably be hitchhiking over if this becomes a habit."
We sat and waited, at 5 pm the phone rings. "Where are you?" in a very Korean accent in the language of spanish.
"Where are you?" I responded.
"I wait and wait, and wait, no rush, but I wait here."
I look over to my mom, "She is waiting for us."
We resorted to immagrants and all plopped into the circus car, how we had managed extra space, I don't know, but no one wanted to be left behind, it was me, my mom, and the two little ones.
I get to the airport realize what I forgot, pick up my cell and call the number back, wondering which airline, she turns me into an idiot with ease.
"Hi there, was a little Korean woman using your phone."
Another young man spoke into the phone, "Yes, she was in the smoking section, I am not there anymore."
"And which airline area?"
"American Airlines."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
We begin to drive around and are rushed off to circle a second time, no sighting of a small Korean woman, well they all look alike, but we didn't see her.
After the second rounding we spotted her, she had the cigarette dangling, ash two inches long, I walked up and hugged her, she looked well. She smiled, she was tired, and she looked like an extra on a Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris movie, those yellow tinted sunglassed, I didn't know they still made those.
After packing her up and exchanging hellos, hugs and kisses, I had the army complete, now back to the battlefield of life with my elderly ladies.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Family Feud
I spend more time than I should playing this game. Only to get uber pissed when I get the wrong answers. That being said, this stupid game is not really stupid. I would like to know how a fish is a meat, and if a fish is considered an answer coming up as meat, how the hell is swollen ankles not swollen feet. These are just two examples. The question was "What food do you eat with wine?" I answered pasta, got it right. I answered dinner, and it was wrong. I answered fish and meat came up as the correct answer. The next question was "What are complaints pregnant woman make?" I should know this with no red x's, I was wrong. I answered nausea, and that was wrong, but then one of the answers was morning sickness, really. Then I answered swollen ankles, I got that wrong, but the answer swollen feet came up at the end. How does this happen?
If someone out there knows who does the surveys, please pull them to the side and ask them to stop asking homeless people, hoodrats at the mall, and that the short bus stop is not considered a prime spot for survey recipients. Because of the geniuses that they go to for answers, my intelligent self is getting a low score.
I should be at a much higher score than I am, but the idiots answering the questions are lowering the bar for me. Please go to public places, not college fraternities for the answers. Real people answer much better. Who gets tickets at an airport, cops give out tickets on the highway, that should have been a correct answer.
And how is it that I get less than 200 points but will get a 5000 point score if a face book buddy helps me get to 200, shouldn't they get the 5000 points.
Who is the Darwin Award winner that created this game? I do love to play but it seems the odds are against me. The fact that I get better scores after 4 shots of tequila really does tell you something.
If someone out there knows who does the surveys, please pull them to the side and ask them to stop asking homeless people, hoodrats at the mall, and that the short bus stop is not considered a prime spot for survey recipients. Because of the geniuses that they go to for answers, my intelligent self is getting a low score.
I should be at a much higher score than I am, but the idiots answering the questions are lowering the bar for me. Please go to public places, not college fraternities for the answers. Real people answer much better. Who gets tickets at an airport, cops give out tickets on the highway, that should have been a correct answer.
And how is it that I get less than 200 points but will get a 5000 point score if a face book buddy helps me get to 200, shouldn't they get the 5000 points.
Who is the Darwin Award winner that created this game? I do love to play but it seems the odds are against me. The fact that I get better scores after 4 shots of tequila really does tell you something.
Monday, October 11, 2010
You are what you read
Ok, you aren't really what you read, but it's fun to live through the book, to be in that place, that time, that moment. I love reading, absolutely love it. Thanks to my mother, who always has a smut book in her hands. I have been reading romance since I could remember, the first book I read was Flowers in the Attic. Loved it.
I like historical romance, but I don't think I could've lived it. I love mystery-suspense romance, but I would go to the police way before the end of the first chapter, and then there is erotica.
I have never in my life read one of these, I got a bunch at the Romance Writers Conference, and decided to give it a try. I read a chapter, actually five chapters in one day. That was a hell of a weekend. Since I promised my hubby that I will not discuss our personal life in my blog, I will say that we had executive meetings to attend through out the weekend, a retreat if you will. I was the CEO and he was under me, whatever is under the CEO, when he is CEO I am under the desk, talking to the microphone.
That book was mind boggling, as were our meetings. I didn't get to read it everyday, it took me a week total, but whenever I picked up that hot pink novel he knew that a meeting was in the making.
On the day I finished my book, I sauntered outside and grabbed a cold beer, my cigarettes and dove nose first into the book, exactly where I left off, a book had never made me sweat, breath deeply or whisper prayers to Jesus, this one did that and more. I didn't know you could use those words in books, much less the context, dear God the positions, the rough male enforcement. I spoke to God again just thinking about it. And my husband is always the hero in my mind, him or Johnny Depp. Lord help me.
I finished the book, sighed heavily and turned to enter the house, there was a meeting to adjourn. I opened the door to silence, darkness and a stillness that fell upon me like an ice cold shower. I had only been outside for half an hour. Did I miss something?
I looked at the clock and it wasn't even eleven, surely my assistant was awaiting at the head of the boardroom. He never goes to bed before midnight, and always falls asleep on the sofa.
I walked into the kitchen, the microwave lights were on, the tv cable box lit with the time. We had electricity, and even if we didn't we had batteries.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, freshened up, primped the girls, twisted and tweeked the knobs of the...girls, removed my bun from my hair, and was glad that they lights were off, I didn't resemble the person I just read about, I looked more like the help, I inhaled and calmed just a bit. I was ready to make some heads roll, to the conference room.
The wooden door creaked as I opened it, I stepped down slowly as I always have ever since the fall down the stairs when we first moved in, I am more careful now. I placed the hand on the wall guiding me to my side of the bed, I heard the covers move around and couldn't do anything to contain the smile now, and thinking of the smile to come, literally.
I placed a hand on the edge of the bed and continued to feel it towards the movement that I heard, my hand met a hairy limb followed by ravenous licking in quick excited thrusts.
"Dammit Juno, move out of the way!"
I pushed the fifteen pound mongrel out of the way, he was only a barrier to me now, I wondered if I should toss him out the door. After moving him, I continued to move towards the middle of the bed and heard the distinct grunt of a sleeping husband, for him to be snoring it only meant that he had to have been asleep for at least half an hour.
Maybe he just needs a little nudge to get this conversation going, I went to carress his cheek, to shower him with butterfly kisses, slowly and tenderly. Suddenly a hand flipped from the darkness onto my shoulder, I had one elbow propping my body at an angle and the free arm met the face of an angel. I moved Diego towards the middle giving myself enough room to sleep, resisting the urge to grab a high heeled stiletto from the closet and popping my slumbering husband from his undoubtedly boring dream of boats he can't afford, just popping him on the head with a good old whack.
Diego has been sleeping in his bed for weeks, he has a tv in his room, a lamp by the bed, everything he needs to be comfortable and cozy in his big boy bed, how had he gotten here?
It all came together like a Monk episode, I walked outside to read the book, gave my husband a wink, he smiled, it was a fake smile, covering up a desperate attempt at escaping something fearful, as if I was a high school coach obligating him to run lap after lap after lap thinking to himself "If I run another lap, I may collapse and die." As soon as the door closed and I had my back to the window, he bribed Diego with a happy meal and the only condition was that this was a secret operative mission, no words, they sign languaged back and forth ala GI Joe to the bed, once they were in the safe zone, they called the dog to join their mutiny and they peacefully fell asleep without a good night kiss from mom. Diego was helpless, strategically placed in the middle of the bed like a wall of sand bags blocking the insurgents from infiltrating their army tents. He had sabotaged me.
I called out his name and could almost hear his eyes blinking wildly praying I didn't turn on the lamp. I didn't turn on the lamp, I turned on my phone and played Bubble It, I played until I fell asleep.
But I am finding ways, my gypsy-like ass moves around the house with a little more of a shake when he is home, a little more spring to my step and a little more cleavage to my around-the-house clothes, and every night when we go to bed, I have a headache. It starts at seven and by nine I pop my medications and some PM medication, and I have a headache everyday.
I will teach him a thing or two yet, she who laughs last laughs hardest, because although you may have laughed at her when she tripped down the stairs, it is only fair for her to laugh her ass off after pushing you.
I like historical romance, but I don't think I could've lived it. I love mystery-suspense romance, but I would go to the police way before the end of the first chapter, and then there is erotica.
I have never in my life read one of these, I got a bunch at the Romance Writers Conference, and decided to give it a try. I read a chapter, actually five chapters in one day. That was a hell of a weekend. Since I promised my hubby that I will not discuss our personal life in my blog, I will say that we had executive meetings to attend through out the weekend, a retreat if you will. I was the CEO and he was under me, whatever is under the CEO, when he is CEO I am under the desk, talking to the microphone.
That book was mind boggling, as were our meetings. I didn't get to read it everyday, it took me a week total, but whenever I picked up that hot pink novel he knew that a meeting was in the making.
On the day I finished my book, I sauntered outside and grabbed a cold beer, my cigarettes and dove nose first into the book, exactly where I left off, a book had never made me sweat, breath deeply or whisper prayers to Jesus, this one did that and more. I didn't know you could use those words in books, much less the context, dear God the positions, the rough male enforcement. I spoke to God again just thinking about it. And my husband is always the hero in my mind, him or Johnny Depp. Lord help me.
I finished the book, sighed heavily and turned to enter the house, there was a meeting to adjourn. I opened the door to silence, darkness and a stillness that fell upon me like an ice cold shower. I had only been outside for half an hour. Did I miss something?
I looked at the clock and it wasn't even eleven, surely my assistant was awaiting at the head of the boardroom. He never goes to bed before midnight, and always falls asleep on the sofa.
I walked into the kitchen, the microwave lights were on, the tv cable box lit with the time. We had electricity, and even if we didn't we had batteries.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, freshened up, primped the girls, twisted and tweeked the knobs of the...girls, removed my bun from my hair, and was glad that they lights were off, I didn't resemble the person I just read about, I looked more like the help, I inhaled and calmed just a bit. I was ready to make some heads roll, to the conference room.
The wooden door creaked as I opened it, I stepped down slowly as I always have ever since the fall down the stairs when we first moved in, I am more careful now. I placed the hand on the wall guiding me to my side of the bed, I heard the covers move around and couldn't do anything to contain the smile now, and thinking of the smile to come, literally.
I placed a hand on the edge of the bed and continued to feel it towards the movement that I heard, my hand met a hairy limb followed by ravenous licking in quick excited thrusts.
"Dammit Juno, move out of the way!"
I pushed the fifteen pound mongrel out of the way, he was only a barrier to me now, I wondered if I should toss him out the door. After moving him, I continued to move towards the middle of the bed and heard the distinct grunt of a sleeping husband, for him to be snoring it only meant that he had to have been asleep for at least half an hour.
Maybe he just needs a little nudge to get this conversation going, I went to carress his cheek, to shower him with butterfly kisses, slowly and tenderly. Suddenly a hand flipped from the darkness onto my shoulder, I had one elbow propping my body at an angle and the free arm met the face of an angel. I moved Diego towards the middle giving myself enough room to sleep, resisting the urge to grab a high heeled stiletto from the closet and popping my slumbering husband from his undoubtedly boring dream of boats he can't afford, just popping him on the head with a good old whack.
Diego has been sleeping in his bed for weeks, he has a tv in his room, a lamp by the bed, everything he needs to be comfortable and cozy in his big boy bed, how had he gotten here?
It all came together like a Monk episode, I walked outside to read the book, gave my husband a wink, he smiled, it was a fake smile, covering up a desperate attempt at escaping something fearful, as if I was a high school coach obligating him to run lap after lap after lap thinking to himself "If I run another lap, I may collapse and die." As soon as the door closed and I had my back to the window, he bribed Diego with a happy meal and the only condition was that this was a secret operative mission, no words, they sign languaged back and forth ala GI Joe to the bed, once they were in the safe zone, they called the dog to join their mutiny and they peacefully fell asleep without a good night kiss from mom. Diego was helpless, strategically placed in the middle of the bed like a wall of sand bags blocking the insurgents from infiltrating their army tents. He had sabotaged me.
I called out his name and could almost hear his eyes blinking wildly praying I didn't turn on the lamp. I didn't turn on the lamp, I turned on my phone and played Bubble It, I played until I fell asleep.
But I am finding ways, my gypsy-like ass moves around the house with a little more of a shake when he is home, a little more spring to my step and a little more cleavage to my around-the-house clothes, and every night when we go to bed, I have a headache. It starts at seven and by nine I pop my medications and some PM medication, and I have a headache everyday.
I will teach him a thing or two yet, she who laughs last laughs hardest, because although you may have laughed at her when she tripped down the stairs, it is only fair for her to laugh her ass off after pushing you.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Casino Night
I waited for this all week, now just needed the kids to go to sleep to go to the casino. Me and $80. My dreams awaited.
The second my husband said "Go!" I ran out the door.
I had a five hour energy drink waiting for tonight, I sat in the car before starting the engine and gulped it down. I wanted to throw it into the street but didn't realize I was still in park when I threw it out the window.
I zoomed through the interstate and arrived to the casino, it was the equivalent of stepping into an ashtray, burnt butts everywhere, smoky and smelly and stale, like the inhabitants that roamed aimlessly, with their welfare checks and oxygen tanks, my mother and grandmother among the prestigious bunch.
I walked and walked around, waiting for just the right machine, and there is was, The Poopy Party. I love that machine, you get three party hats and gifts start to pop up, as you open each gift, you get credits. I put in my first twenty dollars, by the time I had ten dollars left I was ready to walk away, no Poopy Party. The drinks lady walked by, I said "Coke!" then thought for a second "Diet Coke." she gave me one of each, Hot Dog! This had to be a sign. Ten minutes later, twenty dollars gone.
I walked around some more and got a call from my cousin Tuty, she was at the casino looking for me. "I am by the waterfall." As I waited, a double amputee walked by, no arms. I was astonished, would I have the drive to play slots without arms, I wasn't sure, but just in case, I followed him around a while. He didn't play, maybe he misplaced the prosthesis or maybe he was just watching or maybe he used his toes? I couldn't spend any more time waiting for the impossible to be seen. I wished him luck, and he went on his way, I went the other way.
We met. I kissed everyone and my aunt walked me to the machine sure to pay out. Each play was two dollars, I put in a twenty and got three jackpots, my heart stopped. I watched in horror as I won a thousand pennies, that is only ten dollars people. I won the same damn thousand pennies, three more times. After forty dollars, I was out of there. Note to self, do not play the machine by the waterfalls that induces heart attacks without your Xanax.
I went to another machine with ladybugs, well that did not work for me either, ten dollars gone, in a matter of an hour I lost seventy dollars. I held on to my last ten and my dad told me to go to the "Deal or No Deal" game. Guess what daddy? No fucking deal.
I was out, the time was midnight and I was broke.
I waited for my dad to offer a twenty, but didn't have the balls to ask. So I just lingered around him, waiting for the human ATM to disperse anything.
I walked up to my mom, who had been playing a samurai game and was winning big. Each time the samurai came up, she put both feet up and her arms in position for a kung fu jab. She mimicked the game. This went on for an hour, she got bonus after bonus and was up to eighty dollars, when she left the machine, she had seventeen.
I noticed I lost my cigarettes, a brand new pack too. I walked everywhere and they were gone.
Dammit, there goes seven more dollars. I walked around and picked up the white papers that the machines give when you cash out. A total of eight cents later, I tried to play. But no machine would let me play for eight cents. I found a paper with twenty seven cents and it was ripped in pieces. I hope who ever left if lost their ass, because that is just cruel, vagrants like me count on finding those. Why did you rip it up?
My dad finally gave in, ten dollars for the samurai game, Ha Yah!!! It took less than five minutes to lose it. Time to go.
I walked out and my sisters left me to walk the second floor to my car all alone, stepping into a horror flick, the parking lot was empty and the elevator doors closed, I walked to the car with brisk steps, to the side of me I found Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hoodrat, there was a young man behind a car that was pooping, either that or a girl that couldn't wait any longer and had to pee. Either way I walked to my car with my key between my forefinger and middle finger, in case I had to jab out an eye. I passed some stoners and jumped into my car. My sisters called to see if I made it to the car, I was already on the interstate.
I still had 3 hours left of my energy drink, I was wired. I counted the change in my car to get a scratch off on the way home, but only had forty five cents. DAMMIT.
I got home and this is where I had the most challenge, each step up the stairs had me tinkle a little. I understood the person behind the car. I twisted myself up to the door and Juno the wonder dog barked loud enough to wake the deaf neighbors. I screamed some obscenities at him, its ok, he is a dog and doesn't speak human.
I peeled off my now soaked in the middle jeans and did a quick TPA rinse. I walked to my bedroom, and my husband and the boys looked like they were reenacting a confederate battle, they were sprawled on the bed in positions that took up the entire king bed from top to bottom, side to side. I decided it was best to sleep on the sofa, I put on a clean pair of pajamas and grabbed my snuggie. And I dreamed of my next casino day, and all the money I was gonna win. Today was just not my night.
The second my husband said "Go!" I ran out the door.
I had a five hour energy drink waiting for tonight, I sat in the car before starting the engine and gulped it down. I wanted to throw it into the street but didn't realize I was still in park when I threw it out the window.
I zoomed through the interstate and arrived to the casino, it was the equivalent of stepping into an ashtray, burnt butts everywhere, smoky and smelly and stale, like the inhabitants that roamed aimlessly, with their welfare checks and oxygen tanks, my mother and grandmother among the prestigious bunch.
I walked and walked around, waiting for just the right machine, and there is was, The Poopy Party. I love that machine, you get three party hats and gifts start to pop up, as you open each gift, you get credits. I put in my first twenty dollars, by the time I had ten dollars left I was ready to walk away, no Poopy Party. The drinks lady walked by, I said "Coke!" then thought for a second "Diet Coke." she gave me one of each, Hot Dog! This had to be a sign. Ten minutes later, twenty dollars gone.
I walked around some more and got a call from my cousin Tuty, she was at the casino looking for me. "I am by the waterfall." As I waited, a double amputee walked by, no arms. I was astonished, would I have the drive to play slots without arms, I wasn't sure, but just in case, I followed him around a while. He didn't play, maybe he misplaced the prosthesis or maybe he was just watching or maybe he used his toes? I couldn't spend any more time waiting for the impossible to be seen. I wished him luck, and he went on his way, I went the other way.
We met. I kissed everyone and my aunt walked me to the machine sure to pay out. Each play was two dollars, I put in a twenty and got three jackpots, my heart stopped. I watched in horror as I won a thousand pennies, that is only ten dollars people. I won the same damn thousand pennies, three more times. After forty dollars, I was out of there. Note to self, do not play the machine by the waterfalls that induces heart attacks without your Xanax.
I went to another machine with ladybugs, well that did not work for me either, ten dollars gone, in a matter of an hour I lost seventy dollars. I held on to my last ten and my dad told me to go to the "Deal or No Deal" game. Guess what daddy? No fucking deal.
I was out, the time was midnight and I was broke.
I waited for my dad to offer a twenty, but didn't have the balls to ask. So I just lingered around him, waiting for the human ATM to disperse anything.
I walked up to my mom, who had been playing a samurai game and was winning big. Each time the samurai came up, she put both feet up and her arms in position for a kung fu jab. She mimicked the game. This went on for an hour, she got bonus after bonus and was up to eighty dollars, when she left the machine, she had seventeen.
I noticed I lost my cigarettes, a brand new pack too. I walked everywhere and they were gone.
Dammit, there goes seven more dollars. I walked around and picked up the white papers that the machines give when you cash out. A total of eight cents later, I tried to play. But no machine would let me play for eight cents. I found a paper with twenty seven cents and it was ripped in pieces. I hope who ever left if lost their ass, because that is just cruel, vagrants like me count on finding those. Why did you rip it up?
My dad finally gave in, ten dollars for the samurai game, Ha Yah!!! It took less than five minutes to lose it. Time to go.
I walked out and my sisters left me to walk the second floor to my car all alone, stepping into a horror flick, the parking lot was empty and the elevator doors closed, I walked to the car with brisk steps, to the side of me I found Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hoodrat, there was a young man behind a car that was pooping, either that or a girl that couldn't wait any longer and had to pee. Either way I walked to my car with my key between my forefinger and middle finger, in case I had to jab out an eye. I passed some stoners and jumped into my car. My sisters called to see if I made it to the car, I was already on the interstate.
I still had 3 hours left of my energy drink, I was wired. I counted the change in my car to get a scratch off on the way home, but only had forty five cents. DAMMIT.
I got home and this is where I had the most challenge, each step up the stairs had me tinkle a little. I understood the person behind the car. I twisted myself up to the door and Juno the wonder dog barked loud enough to wake the deaf neighbors. I screamed some obscenities at him, its ok, he is a dog and doesn't speak human.
I peeled off my now soaked in the middle jeans and did a quick TPA rinse. I walked to my bedroom, and my husband and the boys looked like they were reenacting a confederate battle, they were sprawled on the bed in positions that took up the entire king bed from top to bottom, side to side. I decided it was best to sleep on the sofa, I put on a clean pair of pajamas and grabbed my snuggie. And I dreamed of my next casino day, and all the money I was gonna win. Today was just not my night.
Happy Birthday to me
My birthday came and went and I am now a year older, I hate birthdays, at least mine.
All I wanted was to go to the casino, that is all.
I woke up congested and full of phlegm, Mike D had given me the gift of snot. I had Friday off and stayed home sick. I hoped to wake up at 5 am and go to the casino, but 5 am came and went and I slept.
My sisters, the dears that they are, brought me thai and I ate it like a starved Ethiopian, and I had to share with Mike D, he eats everything.
Mara walked in with 2 band aids on her cheek. Which caught my attention, why did she have a band aid, workers comp, did she eat a taco too hard and it went through her cheek?
I stared and asked, "Why do you have a band aid on your cheek?"
"Burn from work, not too bad, but it blistered."
Oh my, a wound, and a fresh wound at that.
"Wanna see?"
"Hell yes, I wanna see, rip that baby off!"
She took her sweet ass time and peeled away the bandages, and the slower she went, the closer I got. She peeled it off and I was an inch away from her cheek, then she barked.
I jumped back and was taken by surprise, so much my armpits itched, I know that when I get really scared my armpits start to itch.
She laughed and laughed, and Nina was in on it too, in the background jumping around like a leprechaun.
"Bitch!"
They knew I would fall for their ploy. But that's ok.
As we sat and watched TV, Juno sat on Mara's lap and when he got off, he left a Hershey's kiss on her pants, and she looked at me in horror.
I tapped a finger into the chocolaty delight, and smelled it.
"It's dog shit." Wiping it on her pants.
"Go use that, it's just Fabuloso with water, just spray it."
Being the inventor that I am, I clean with whatever spray bottle I find, and if it's empty, I fill it with Fabuloso and water. She looked at the bottle, "This says Clorox, does it have Clorox?"
I looked at Nina and shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know, guess we shall find out, spray it."
She gave me a cockeyed look and walked off to the bathroom, not risking her jeans with my Clorox bottle concoction.
She came back out and had a wet spot on her jeans.
"You got a spot."
She just glared at me, we watched our show. I walked out to have a cigarette and my dad pulled up. My darling sisters left me with the investment banker, left me to be interrogated on my everything. I should have slashed their tires or made Mara wash her jeans here, so I wouldn't be left alone for the Spanish Inquisition.
He lectured, I nodded and he left.
Mike D had snot coming out of every hole is his little body, he looked so frail, I decided a bath would be good. We got in the tub and I decided to shave, I had a month's worth of hair growing on my legs, another day and I could have dreads coming out of the bottoms of my pants, stemming from where it all started, the happy trail, was overly happy and uncontrollable.
I shaved one leg and Mike D decided he was getting out. I sat in the tub screaming for him to return, the only thing I heard was "No." quite clearly. I continued to shave and suddenly blocks were being thrown in the tub.
"Micheal No!" This was all you heard as he filled the tub with his Mega Blocks, one by one they filled the bathtub, I was in no shape to run after him with one leg shaved and the other white with foam. I waited till he was done and he jumped back in the tub. I was almost finished and he began throwing the damn blocks out of the tub.
The blocks have crevices and they held water, and as he slung them out, my bathroom was flooded, I shaved with one hand and held the blocks that I could with the other. He sat in the tub and began to do the crocodile twist, I had no chance.
He got away and took off, I got out of the tub and found him on the bunk bed, the top buck. He was stark naked and knew I couldn't reach him. The bunk only holds a third of my weight, I bribed him with candy, and toys, until he eventually came to me and I grabbed him and dressed him. Casino night could not possibly get here fast enough.
All I wanted was to go to the casino, that is all.
I woke up congested and full of phlegm, Mike D had given me the gift of snot. I had Friday off and stayed home sick. I hoped to wake up at 5 am and go to the casino, but 5 am came and went and I slept.
My sisters, the dears that they are, brought me thai and I ate it like a starved Ethiopian, and I had to share with Mike D, he eats everything.
Mara walked in with 2 band aids on her cheek. Which caught my attention, why did she have a band aid, workers comp, did she eat a taco too hard and it went through her cheek?
I stared and asked, "Why do you have a band aid on your cheek?"
"Burn from work, not too bad, but it blistered."
Oh my, a wound, and a fresh wound at that.
"Wanna see?"
"Hell yes, I wanna see, rip that baby off!"
She took her sweet ass time and peeled away the bandages, and the slower she went, the closer I got. She peeled it off and I was an inch away from her cheek, then she barked.
I jumped back and was taken by surprise, so much my armpits itched, I know that when I get really scared my armpits start to itch.
She laughed and laughed, and Nina was in on it too, in the background jumping around like a leprechaun.
"Bitch!"
They knew I would fall for their ploy. But that's ok.
As we sat and watched TV, Juno sat on Mara's lap and when he got off, he left a Hershey's kiss on her pants, and she looked at me in horror.
I tapped a finger into the chocolaty delight, and smelled it.
"It's dog shit." Wiping it on her pants.
"Go use that, it's just Fabuloso with water, just spray it."
Being the inventor that I am, I clean with whatever spray bottle I find, and if it's empty, I fill it with Fabuloso and water. She looked at the bottle, "This says Clorox, does it have Clorox?"
I looked at Nina and shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know, guess we shall find out, spray it."
She gave me a cockeyed look and walked off to the bathroom, not risking her jeans with my Clorox bottle concoction.
She came back out and had a wet spot on her jeans.
"You got a spot."
She just glared at me, we watched our show. I walked out to have a cigarette and my dad pulled up. My darling sisters left me with the investment banker, left me to be interrogated on my everything. I should have slashed their tires or made Mara wash her jeans here, so I wouldn't be left alone for the Spanish Inquisition.
He lectured, I nodded and he left.
Mike D had snot coming out of every hole is his little body, he looked so frail, I decided a bath would be good. We got in the tub and I decided to shave, I had a month's worth of hair growing on my legs, another day and I could have dreads coming out of the bottoms of my pants, stemming from where it all started, the happy trail, was overly happy and uncontrollable.
I shaved one leg and Mike D decided he was getting out. I sat in the tub screaming for him to return, the only thing I heard was "No." quite clearly. I continued to shave and suddenly blocks were being thrown in the tub.
"Micheal No!" This was all you heard as he filled the tub with his Mega Blocks, one by one they filled the bathtub, I was in no shape to run after him with one leg shaved and the other white with foam. I waited till he was done and he jumped back in the tub. I was almost finished and he began throwing the damn blocks out of the tub.
The blocks have crevices and they held water, and as he slung them out, my bathroom was flooded, I shaved with one hand and held the blocks that I could with the other. He sat in the tub and began to do the crocodile twist, I had no chance.
He got away and took off, I got out of the tub and found him on the bunk bed, the top buck. He was stark naked and knew I couldn't reach him. The bunk only holds a third of my weight, I bribed him with candy, and toys, until he eventually came to me and I grabbed him and dressed him. Casino night could not possibly get here fast enough.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Enchanted Kitchen
It is never a dull moment when I head to the trash trailer. (My aunt has given herself this name, I am only calling her what she tells me to.)
As I pull around the bend, I spot my aunt in the middle of the street directing traffic. Let me clarify that there are only two parking spots, she doesn't live at the stadium or in an apartment complex, one spot is taken by Nina, my grandparents were parked to the side. I was sent across the street to park at the neighbor's house. Someone important was probably coming and she needs that one spot open.
I looked her up and down, I thought that you didn't wear white after Labor Day, but she wore white. A white skirt, or a white tube top pulled down to her bottom made to look like a skirt. No! There was no way, there was a slit that scaled up to what only a geriatric gynecologist would be able to look at without going blind or being attacked by spiders from cobwebs. She clomped back and forth across the street, she was waiting for twenty guests. I took a seat next to Tuty and Nina, and then my grandparents were there. That was pretty much the crowd.
Who wants to go to a party that sells thousand dollar pots and pans?
Hell yes me! I want to know exactly what they do, I mean a thousand dollars. When she called me to tell me that she was having a party, she didn't tell me what it was about until after the phone seduction, she was not taking no for an answer.
Then she told me that she told the sales people we are poor, we are all poor and can't afford any of their crap. She was basically having them come over and cook for us, and we in return sat and ate and were not allowed to buy anything. They are selling at a trailer park, where bartering is a way of life. The only thing that she could offer them was adult companionship and trinkets from flea markets and as seen on tv ads.
In my head these pots and pans flip the pancakes and hamburgers, they serve the meal, they also wash themselves and walk themselves back to the cupboard. I hoped she was mistaken and instead this was an ultra extravagant Naughty Night Party where they displayed golden dildos that cost a thousand dollars that gyrated like a college student in his prime and whispered sweet nothings to the closest orifice that would stop to listen, that would be something I want to see. I would stop and listen, swear.
We sat and our tummies rumbled. The two presenters passed around pans, the coolest part was the grease that was inside of the pans, you didn't have to add grease to your meal, and they are made of airplane parts, way to recycle people.
And they had a lifetime guarantee, so my kids would use them, as would my grandkids. And they have been selling for years, (thinking) now I have one more thing to keep an eye out for at the flea markets and garage sales. Old people cook, old people die, and families sell it all at garage sales in Tampa. If I pick one up and call them, they would come in and replace the whole set. These people were just full of information. These aerobatic kitchen strap ons were so amazing that they made your food taste better, they did...well, I kinda got bored at about this time, they were actually teaching us nutritional facts. I strummed my fingers through my just-straightened hair, Nina sat right behind me, as I picked out the strands of hair, I held them up until they floated and glided into the air like butterflies, landing directly onto Nina. This entertained me for a good half hour until the meal started.
They brought out a potato peeler and diced, cut, and julienned potatoes and different fruits and veggies. I was in awe, I had to pick up Tuty's jaw from the floor, you would have thought that David Copperfield just made a trailer disappear, we were just staring at this metal machine that did amazing things that usually took us forever. We talked like the men from Wall Street plotting and planning on paying for this and then setting up custody and visitation schedules for the different pieces.
The man presenter walked around with various things to show us, I didn't pay attention, until I looked up and then I had to do a double take, he had one eyebrow, not like my dad's unibrow, but like non stop hair growth from one temple to the other, and just under the middle, above the bridge of his nose, a goatee. Isn't that something, today was just full of amazement.
The food didn't taste too different, the potato was bland, the veggies, were veggies. My aunt paraded around in her receding skirt and served drinks, as she served by grandfather, who at this point probably had his hearing aide set to the baseball game and nodded with each pitch, had to jerk up and watch his prostate as my aunt jabbed the red cup between his thighs, when she was coming up to me, I held out my hand, in fear she would be shoving it between my bra, making the girls work double time.
They must have been from a cult, 3 hours later, we were fed, taught, and the sect leaders were shoving papers in our face, financial questions, how I eat, how much I will save, professing their ways of life and how they will make my life better.
I gracefully gave my kisses and hugs and made my way to the car. I had promised to have a show at my house and I left with regret at the promise, double drats, they got me!
I pulled over before I got home, because there was a little gnawing going on in my brain, I thought about what happens to things and to people who sell crap like this. I went on Ebay and found an entire set for a little over $200, I called my sister Nina, because I knew that Darth Vader and Princess Laila had Tuty in their clutches, enticing her to not only buy a full set, but to have her out their selling, it's like a religion, next thing you know they are taking over Clearwater and your children are out there cooking chicken under an hour with no preservatives.
"Nina I just found all that shit on Ebay for $200, grab Tuty and shield her from their eyes, they will suck her in, we have to act quick or we'll lose her."
Nina responds, "Oh, we already left, but she did schedule a party for Wednesday."
We may have lost one to their game, but today I am nuking my hot dog in the fight against their mission and I didn't answer the phone to any local unknown numbers, they will not take me without a fight.
As I pull around the bend, I spot my aunt in the middle of the street directing traffic. Let me clarify that there are only two parking spots, she doesn't live at the stadium or in an apartment complex, one spot is taken by Nina, my grandparents were parked to the side. I was sent across the street to park at the neighbor's house. Someone important was probably coming and she needs that one spot open.
I looked her up and down, I thought that you didn't wear white after Labor Day, but she wore white. A white skirt, or a white tube top pulled down to her bottom made to look like a skirt. No! There was no way, there was a slit that scaled up to what only a geriatric gynecologist would be able to look at without going blind or being attacked by spiders from cobwebs. She clomped back and forth across the street, she was waiting for twenty guests. I took a seat next to Tuty and Nina, and then my grandparents were there. That was pretty much the crowd.
Who wants to go to a party that sells thousand dollar pots and pans?
Hell yes me! I want to know exactly what they do, I mean a thousand dollars. When she called me to tell me that she was having a party, she didn't tell me what it was about until after the phone seduction, she was not taking no for an answer.
Then she told me that she told the sales people we are poor, we are all poor and can't afford any of their crap. She was basically having them come over and cook for us, and we in return sat and ate and were not allowed to buy anything. They are selling at a trailer park, where bartering is a way of life. The only thing that she could offer them was adult companionship and trinkets from flea markets and as seen on tv ads.
In my head these pots and pans flip the pancakes and hamburgers, they serve the meal, they also wash themselves and walk themselves back to the cupboard. I hoped she was mistaken and instead this was an ultra extravagant Naughty Night Party where they displayed golden dildos that cost a thousand dollars that gyrated like a college student in his prime and whispered sweet nothings to the closest orifice that would stop to listen, that would be something I want to see. I would stop and listen, swear.
We sat and our tummies rumbled. The two presenters passed around pans, the coolest part was the grease that was inside of the pans, you didn't have to add grease to your meal, and they are made of airplane parts, way to recycle people.
And they had a lifetime guarantee, so my kids would use them, as would my grandkids. And they have been selling for years, (thinking) now I have one more thing to keep an eye out for at the flea markets and garage sales. Old people cook, old people die, and families sell it all at garage sales in Tampa. If I pick one up and call them, they would come in and replace the whole set. These people were just full of information. These aerobatic kitchen strap ons were so amazing that they made your food taste better, they did...well, I kinda got bored at about this time, they were actually teaching us nutritional facts. I strummed my fingers through my just-straightened hair, Nina sat right behind me, as I picked out the strands of hair, I held them up until they floated and glided into the air like butterflies, landing directly onto Nina. This entertained me for a good half hour until the meal started.
They brought out a potato peeler and diced, cut, and julienned potatoes and different fruits and veggies. I was in awe, I had to pick up Tuty's jaw from the floor, you would have thought that David Copperfield just made a trailer disappear, we were just staring at this metal machine that did amazing things that usually took us forever. We talked like the men from Wall Street plotting and planning on paying for this and then setting up custody and visitation schedules for the different pieces.
The man presenter walked around with various things to show us, I didn't pay attention, until I looked up and then I had to do a double take, he had one eyebrow, not like my dad's unibrow, but like non stop hair growth from one temple to the other, and just under the middle, above the bridge of his nose, a goatee. Isn't that something, today was just full of amazement.
The food didn't taste too different, the potato was bland, the veggies, were veggies. My aunt paraded around in her receding skirt and served drinks, as she served by grandfather, who at this point probably had his hearing aide set to the baseball game and nodded with each pitch, had to jerk up and watch his prostate as my aunt jabbed the red cup between his thighs, when she was coming up to me, I held out my hand, in fear she would be shoving it between my bra, making the girls work double time.
They must have been from a cult, 3 hours later, we were fed, taught, and the sect leaders were shoving papers in our face, financial questions, how I eat, how much I will save, professing their ways of life and how they will make my life better.
I gracefully gave my kisses and hugs and made my way to the car. I had promised to have a show at my house and I left with regret at the promise, double drats, they got me!
I pulled over before I got home, because there was a little gnawing going on in my brain, I thought about what happens to things and to people who sell crap like this. I went on Ebay and found an entire set for a little over $200, I called my sister Nina, because I knew that Darth Vader and Princess Laila had Tuty in their clutches, enticing her to not only buy a full set, but to have her out their selling, it's like a religion, next thing you know they are taking over Clearwater and your children are out there cooking chicken under an hour with no preservatives.
"Nina I just found all that shit on Ebay for $200, grab Tuty and shield her from their eyes, they will suck her in, we have to act quick or we'll lose her."
Nina responds, "Oh, we already left, but she did schedule a party for Wednesday."
We may have lost one to their game, but today I am nuking my hot dog in the fight against their mission and I didn't answer the phone to any local unknown numbers, they will not take me without a fight.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Lunch Special
There is a new bus that serves Spanish food next to my job. A week ago, we called to order and the call went to voicemail. Desperate for food, we are food connoisseurs like that, we googled and found the owner's cell phone. We called her as she was waking and placed the order. She called back, the calls were going to voicemail due to a faulty fryer.
We had pizza.
Today was Haydee's last day, our spunky little firecracker at work. Very easy to set off, and I do not light that fire, well I try not to. Being her last day we ordered from the bus, she introduced us to it and she bragged about it's cellulite inducing nutrients. Yes, we are buying lunch prepared in a bus the size of a bathroom, with three people who prep it all, and they look like my mornings in the bathroom fighting my way to brush my teeth. We called with 3 days notice, we also called the day before and this morning before picking up the meal, I would say we picked it up, but I picked up the meal by myself, no one came with me, just me and my audio book. Peace at last, peace at last.
I was glad to get out, the retiree (really she got another job, but I had to give her shit about it) was like a social butterfly, this lunch was a surprise and each second we tried to plan or coordinate this fiasco luncheon (usually when I am involved it is nothing less of a fiasco) would pop up. Doesn't she have work to finish, emails to send, good-byes to finish? No. Like an arranyita pellua (hairy spider) she showed up and walked by, making it almost impossible to surprise her. Like a peo atravesado (I don't know how I should translate, but she was like a fart in the middle of everything) stinking up the party preparations with her surprise pop ups. She knew.
History: The office has been cold lately, I guess they are trying to fight the germs of the office cold, or they are driving the infected to get bedridden. As I sit at my cubicle the person next to me and in front of me cough, sometimes in unison, sometimes it's orchestrated and resembles Beethoven's Fifth. So I wore my black sweater with my jeans with black heels, so cute.
I raced to the bus at 11:30 am, we have lunch from noon to 1 pm, I wasn't on the phones so I was the designated driver. I got there at noon, mucho late. Walked around the bus and it was closed, the yellow mobile kitchen was shut down. I knocked and told the lady I was there to pick up the order. She said it would be a minute, I called the office to tell them I arrived but the food wasn't ready. I sat and smoked and watched as they opened up fifteen minutes later. I stood to check the order, and she said almost. I called work, almost ready. The team sat and waited and probably exchanged stories, sitting and staring at each other in moments of uncomfortable silence. I sat in the sun and smoked some more, I felt the sweat drip from my armpits, remember my brainiac self thought of that einsteinish idea. Surely I would roast completely to tender before the pork I was waiting for.
Finally at 12:30 the order was ready, well minus the appetizers, I lugged the two bags to the car and returned for the last bag, I was given an additional empanada as a consolation gift. Gee thanks. An ice cold soda would have been more appropriate but whatever. I got the last bag and ran (in heels) for the car. The five lunch containers were on the floor, the bag of sandwiches on the seat, the sweat had now accumulated in a pool on my belly button, I am sure that also had it's own seasoning flavors by now.
I pulled out and made a U-turn, and the top container with the most food (for the honoree of course) flip flopped on the floor like a burrito at Taco Bell that those McDonald's rejects don't close correctly. I put the emergency blinker lights on and prayed no one hit me. I salvaged what I could and completely ruined my RWA bag. Like this.
We had pizza.
Today was Haydee's last day, our spunky little firecracker at work. Very easy to set off, and I do not light that fire, well I try not to. Being her last day we ordered from the bus, she introduced us to it and she bragged about it's cellulite inducing nutrients. Yes, we are buying lunch prepared in a bus the size of a bathroom, with three people who prep it all, and they look like my mornings in the bathroom fighting my way to brush my teeth. We called with 3 days notice, we also called the day before and this morning before picking up the meal, I would say we picked it up, but I picked up the meal by myself, no one came with me, just me and my audio book. Peace at last, peace at last.
I was glad to get out, the retiree (really she got another job, but I had to give her shit about it) was like a social butterfly, this lunch was a surprise and each second we tried to plan or coordinate this fiasco luncheon (usually when I am involved it is nothing less of a fiasco) would pop up. Doesn't she have work to finish, emails to send, good-byes to finish? No. Like an arranyita pellua (hairy spider) she showed up and walked by, making it almost impossible to surprise her. Like a peo atravesado (I don't know how I should translate, but she was like a fart in the middle of everything) stinking up the party preparations with her surprise pop ups. She knew.
History: The office has been cold lately, I guess they are trying to fight the germs of the office cold, or they are driving the infected to get bedridden. As I sit at my cubicle the person next to me and in front of me cough, sometimes in unison, sometimes it's orchestrated and resembles Beethoven's Fifth. So I wore my black sweater with my jeans with black heels, so cute.
I raced to the bus at 11:30 am, we have lunch from noon to 1 pm, I wasn't on the phones so I was the designated driver. I got there at noon, mucho late. Walked around the bus and it was closed, the yellow mobile kitchen was shut down. I knocked and told the lady I was there to pick up the order. She said it would be a minute, I called the office to tell them I arrived but the food wasn't ready. I sat and smoked and watched as they opened up fifteen minutes later. I stood to check the order, and she said almost. I called work, almost ready. The team sat and waited and probably exchanged stories, sitting and staring at each other in moments of uncomfortable silence. I sat in the sun and smoked some more, I felt the sweat drip from my armpits, remember my brainiac self thought of that einsteinish idea. Surely I would roast completely to tender before the pork I was waiting for.
Finally at 12:30 the order was ready, well minus the appetizers, I lugged the two bags to the car and returned for the last bag, I was given an additional empanada as a consolation gift. Gee thanks. An ice cold soda would have been more appropriate but whatever. I got the last bag and ran (in heels) for the car. The five lunch containers were on the floor, the bag of sandwiches on the seat, the sweat had now accumulated in a pool on my belly button, I am sure that also had it's own seasoning flavors by now.
I pulled out and made a U-turn, and the top container with the most food (for the honoree of course) flip flopped on the floor like a burrito at Taco Bell that those McDonald's rejects don't close correctly. I put the emergency blinker lights on and prayed no one hit me. I salvaged what I could and completely ruined my RWA bag. Like this.
Her order was called the tierra y mar, which is land and sea, but tierra also means dirt or sand, so the shrimp on my car floor was a rather appropriate place for them. I gave the dish a new meaning. I wanted to put the shrimp back into the container but after picking one up and studying it like a chemistry vial, I found a hair and opted to leave them on the floor.
I was border-line hysterical, the order was supposed to be ready at noon, and at 12:37 pm I was in the car driving like a nascar competitor. I was a block away and called Myrna (the planner), telling her I would be in the front, I always park out back, but the front was closer. I pulled to the entrance and regained my composure as I piled the lunches on the side of the car. After a couple minutes I called Myrna again, because she was in the back waiting for me. Her roots must be blond because she went to the back, because I park there, but I told her the front, she doesn't listen.
She took in the food, I met the entire team in the conference room and they applauded, I couldn't send them to the depths of hell because my supervisor was in the front of the peanut gallery and I needed my job, I smiled, took my seat and denied myself the meal, I left hunger and patience at the bus.
We also had breakfast, and a gift card for a much needed mani-pedi and a gift, and an ice cream cake that was cause for breaking my diet. I diet on Mondays, and actually lasted this week until the cake came out.
Haydee you don't read my blog, but I showed you how much I love and appreciate you by not stuffing the hairy shrimp in your lunch box. That says alot. On another note, I ate half of Sonia's sandwich, actually half of a half, because it had a hair in it, karma is a bitch.
Haydee darling, as you can see, even the bread was sad that you left. How was I the only person to spot this?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
No trip to Disney
I love getting mail, any kind of mail. Email, letters, cards, the fact that someone took time out of their day to spend a moment sending me a message. Imagine my surprise when here I am walking to the mailbox getting letters daily from different companies offering me credit. Did they not check before sending it out? Do they not know who I am?
I should call them and see if I have to pay them back, maybe the stuff is para-free, and I can go splurge on a shopping spree, guilt free.
My bills are a mess, but the children are healthy, it isn't cheap to keep them like that, I will be paying Mike's hospital bills until he reaches retirement.
I am catching up little by little, I am finally feeling less pressure and these idiots want to say thank you by extending my credit and offering my husband a various array of credit cards, from Mickey Mouse to Carnival Cruise. I don't want to owe the mouse, he is sacred, he is the symbol of happiness. And most surprising is that they come to my husband, like he needs help getting into debt. Money just walks out of his pocket. I want to go to Disney, I want the Mickey credit card, at almost a hundred bucks a ticket now too, that is a dream far from my grasp, that mouse is on crack, put the pipe down Mickey.
So I shred the pretty offers.
I sit by the garbage and rip them in half, then in half again, and one more time. If I am bored, I will shove it all into a 2 liter and fill it up with water, just to make sure that no one wants to put it together. It's really simple to tape together paper ripped in pieces, but not if it's submerged in liquid. That is a different level of difficulty, like stage 9 in Tetris.
Wouldn't it be hysterical if they went through all that trouble to steal my identity and then get denied for credit. HA!
All I am doing is making sure that we don't obtain any more credit cards, to go out and buy more crap that we don't need and Mike D will ultimately break. I was not meant to have nice things, and here I am 9 credit cards later, learning that very expensive lesson.
On Sunday night, I am sitting on the sofa and ask my husband about our debt. I wonder if I will ever go to prison for owing the wrong person, I read in the paper that collection agencies are now stalking you on facebook. Why the hell would I want to be friends with them, choose your friends wisely people. Oh and they don't just stalk you, they send messages to your friends about your bills. Holy Shit. But all my friends know I am broke and borrowing, no worries.
He pulls up my name on the internet on the laptop to see if I have a lien or some court bullshit that I owe and don't know about, you know the surprise bills.
He didn't find any, but he did manage to find one little piece of useful information.
Apparently when I married my husband almost ten years ago, some idiot (at least to me, a miracle worker to my husband) entered the wrong name. My husband's name is Gordon, and his last name is American. I know that I would never marry a Gordon, how do you scream to that, it's not cute to say Gordonito, too many syllables, shortening it to Gordo would just be offensive.
My husband wondered if there was someone else with my name, when we clicked the attachment, the papers were there, signed and dated, the name was definitely my husband's, but in the system, on record and in the computer, it was Gordon.
My husband jumps up off the sofa and goes into dance, he begins to sing the lyrics of U2's "It's a Beautiful Day" tells me it's not a mistake, to go find Gordon, he's got 3 kids to take care of.
I have heard it all since his discovery, I am living in sin, I am not his wife, I should learn to cook better to get myself a man. Giving him any orders, or requests have now become bribery a la college-slut style, it's asking him for something, and what will I do for it? Like I need the answers to an upcoming test, I don't need him to pick up socks that badly, back in the drawer they go, again.
Oh and now that he is single, he has plans for the weekend, apparently a one-night stand with a single mom of three kids.
We have definitely had fun with this revelation, telling my dad was a little different, he insisted that I immediately call the courts and have them fix it, like it's made any difference up until now.
He didn't find any amusement in it at all. "That was just some comemierda that made the mistake, they have to fix it." My husband and I hold our laughter, but not for long.
So now I must continue to avoid the credit offers, fix my husband's status and get his ass married, and maybe look up Gordon and check out the assets there before I make any drastic moves.
I should call them and see if I have to pay them back, maybe the stuff is para-free, and I can go splurge on a shopping spree, guilt free.
My bills are a mess, but the children are healthy, it isn't cheap to keep them like that, I will be paying Mike's hospital bills until he reaches retirement.
I am catching up little by little, I am finally feeling less pressure and these idiots want to say thank you by extending my credit and offering my husband a various array of credit cards, from Mickey Mouse to Carnival Cruise. I don't want to owe the mouse, he is sacred, he is the symbol of happiness. And most surprising is that they come to my husband, like he needs help getting into debt. Money just walks out of his pocket. I want to go to Disney, I want the Mickey credit card, at almost a hundred bucks a ticket now too, that is a dream far from my grasp, that mouse is on crack, put the pipe down Mickey.
So I shred the pretty offers.
I sit by the garbage and rip them in half, then in half again, and one more time. If I am bored, I will shove it all into a 2 liter and fill it up with water, just to make sure that no one wants to put it together. It's really simple to tape together paper ripped in pieces, but not if it's submerged in liquid. That is a different level of difficulty, like stage 9 in Tetris.
Wouldn't it be hysterical if they went through all that trouble to steal my identity and then get denied for credit. HA!
All I am doing is making sure that we don't obtain any more credit cards, to go out and buy more crap that we don't need and Mike D will ultimately break. I was not meant to have nice things, and here I am 9 credit cards later, learning that very expensive lesson.
On Sunday night, I am sitting on the sofa and ask my husband about our debt. I wonder if I will ever go to prison for owing the wrong person, I read in the paper that collection agencies are now stalking you on facebook. Why the hell would I want to be friends with them, choose your friends wisely people. Oh and they don't just stalk you, they send messages to your friends about your bills. Holy Shit. But all my friends know I am broke and borrowing, no worries.
He pulls up my name on the internet on the laptop to see if I have a lien or some court bullshit that I owe and don't know about, you know the surprise bills.
He didn't find any, but he did manage to find one little piece of useful information.
Apparently when I married my husband almost ten years ago, some idiot (at least to me, a miracle worker to my husband) entered the wrong name. My husband's name is Gordon, and his last name is American. I know that I would never marry a Gordon, how do you scream to that, it's not cute to say Gordonito, too many syllables, shortening it to Gordo would just be offensive.
My husband wondered if there was someone else with my name, when we clicked the attachment, the papers were there, signed and dated, the name was definitely my husband's, but in the system, on record and in the computer, it was Gordon.
My husband jumps up off the sofa and goes into dance, he begins to sing the lyrics of U2's "It's a Beautiful Day" tells me it's not a mistake, to go find Gordon, he's got 3 kids to take care of.
I have heard it all since his discovery, I am living in sin, I am not his wife, I should learn to cook better to get myself a man. Giving him any orders, or requests have now become bribery a la college-slut style, it's asking him for something, and what will I do for it? Like I need the answers to an upcoming test, I don't need him to pick up socks that badly, back in the drawer they go, again.
Oh and now that he is single, he has plans for the weekend, apparently a one-night stand with a single mom of three kids.
We have definitely had fun with this revelation, telling my dad was a little different, he insisted that I immediately call the courts and have them fix it, like it's made any difference up until now.
He didn't find any amusement in it at all. "That was just some comemierda that made the mistake, they have to fix it." My husband and I hold our laughter, but not for long.
So now I must continue to avoid the credit offers, fix my husband's status and get his ass married, and maybe look up Gordon and check out the assets there before I make any drastic moves.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Escaped Again
I know that burglar bars aren't really "in style" anymore. I also know that they are supposed to keep the bad guys "out" of the house. My problem is keeping my bad guy "in" it.
I don't have the stupid habit of locking the door behind me, I don't, I should, I will now.
Saturday morning 7 AM, the house is still, The Office reruns are running on the television, my husband is sitting on the sofa in a daze waiting for the coffee. I know us woman don't know this, but apparently a man can sit on the sofa and the coffee magically makes itself, what he doesn't know is that I do have to rinse the pot, I do have to fill it, the coffee grains, filter, all that shit. Tinkerbell doesn't fly around any make stuff happen with a wand, it's my wifely duty. So he sits and waits.
I put the gears in motion and wait for the caffeinated drink to erupt from the machine. As I wait, I go outside to get the paper. Walk back into the house, set the paper on the coffee table, and grab the coffee. In his cup goes straight whole milk, the half and half is for she-who-preps-the-coffee, not for he-who-waits. I am not a morning person, and in my mind I think to myself, "That'll teach 'em."
The bread-winner gets all gussied up for work and by this time Mike D has taken over the remote. He is also a grumpy goose. The money maker walks out the side door and I sit with Mike watching annoying characters dance around, Mike smiles and laughs, all is well.
My laundry hamper has reached mountain proportions, we are talking overlapping the hamper limit, flowing over the back, and now clothes is being stuffed between the towels on my towel rack, because apparently the laundry also does it's fucking self. I hate housework, and laundry more.
I walk outside with the load in my arms smelling like an armpit from the trenches of a jungle and I stuff it into the machine, like teenagers stuff their bras and tighty whiteys (well they do) I pour the liquid and turn around to go back in, I notice weeds everywhere, again. I bend over and pull one weed, pull another, Mike D walks out to me.
I pick him up and go inside, prep his bottle and sit him on the man-sofa. I go back outside to my weeding.
After about 15 minutes I go in to check on the boys and get a drink, as I walk up the stairs to the kitchen, I find the front door wide open. I scream "Michael" in one breath. Frantically I run outside, no shoes, no bra, no mind, just pajamas. I go up to the edge of the porch and scream again, looking to the side of the house, by the garbage canister, nothing.
I run into the house and check all the rooms, closets, under the covers, I have been through this before. "Diego, I can't find Michael, help me look, check all the rooms again, NOW!"
I run outside to the middle of the street, looking both ways, the road seems to go on forever.
Two young men doing lawn work a couple of houses down come out from the back, they see me running aimlessly, my hair in my hands, almost like I could think better by yanking at the strands. They point across the street, and there sitting on the porch chair is Michael.
I run up to the house (he has actually chosen to settle himself into the meth house from the block, where parties never end, music never dies, drugs run wild and liquor runs deep, yes the house I want to visit, he beat me to it) in his hand is a Styrofoam cup, I grab it, empty. I smell it, nothing, he probably drank a cigarette like Snooki from Jersey Shore, the cup has no hints of alcohol, or even soda. I knock on the door, waiting for a hangover zombie to open the door and lead me to the dark side. No one answered. I walked out to the young men and thanked them.
They told me he was playing with the cups and they noticed him but didn't know where he came from, they noticed him alone and watched him.
The only thing he didn't do was light up the cigarettes sitting in front of him or roll up a joint, but give him time. I walked into the house, my face streaked with tears or sweat, I can't tell.
The weeds have lost their priority, for all I care the house could be covered by vines and uprooted by the massive oak tree out front, turning it into a tree house.
I am breathing deeply, the anxiety or panic attack, pick your word, comes tearing down my walls, I take a Xanax and set the tv back on for him, I glide the sofa, yes the big sofa people sit in to guard the door, now I am boarded up and he can't get out, he plays with the knobs of the window and leads me to believe, he just may climb out of there, I get the laptop, forget the laundry and for the next 6 hours watch over him like a hawk.
Alot of things could have happened, but this is how my weekend started. I haven't been able to blog or do much, guilt consumed my every thought, my every movement. I have learned to unhitch the doorknob, ghetto style, assuring that he cant get out. If God forbid a fire breaks out, the kids will just have to break a window. Which they did in their room, the only thing holding it together is tint put in place by the previous demented owner of this hell hole. Can you believe they actually tinted the windows purple. G-H-E-T-T-O fabulous, or Cubaniche style, one or the other, same difference.
Either way, my life is changing leaps and bounds with this hellion, and the only thing I can control is....ok so I have no control of much, but it gives me lots to blog about, it's been a hell of a weekend my friends. More to come.
I don't have the stupid habit of locking the door behind me, I don't, I should, I will now.
Saturday morning 7 AM, the house is still, The Office reruns are running on the television, my husband is sitting on the sofa in a daze waiting for the coffee. I know us woman don't know this, but apparently a man can sit on the sofa and the coffee magically makes itself, what he doesn't know is that I do have to rinse the pot, I do have to fill it, the coffee grains, filter, all that shit. Tinkerbell doesn't fly around any make stuff happen with a wand, it's my wifely duty. So he sits and waits.
I put the gears in motion and wait for the caffeinated drink to erupt from the machine. As I wait, I go outside to get the paper. Walk back into the house, set the paper on the coffee table, and grab the coffee. In his cup goes straight whole milk, the half and half is for she-who-preps-the-coffee, not for he-who-waits. I am not a morning person, and in my mind I think to myself, "That'll teach 'em."
The bread-winner gets all gussied up for work and by this time Mike D has taken over the remote. He is also a grumpy goose. The money maker walks out the side door and I sit with Mike watching annoying characters dance around, Mike smiles and laughs, all is well.
My laundry hamper has reached mountain proportions, we are talking overlapping the hamper limit, flowing over the back, and now clothes is being stuffed between the towels on my towel rack, because apparently the laundry also does it's fucking self. I hate housework, and laundry more.
I walk outside with the load in my arms smelling like an armpit from the trenches of a jungle and I stuff it into the machine, like teenagers stuff their bras and tighty whiteys (well they do) I pour the liquid and turn around to go back in, I notice weeds everywhere, again. I bend over and pull one weed, pull another, Mike D walks out to me.
I pick him up and go inside, prep his bottle and sit him on the man-sofa. I go back outside to my weeding.
After about 15 minutes I go in to check on the boys and get a drink, as I walk up the stairs to the kitchen, I find the front door wide open. I scream "Michael" in one breath. Frantically I run outside, no shoes, no bra, no mind, just pajamas. I go up to the edge of the porch and scream again, looking to the side of the house, by the garbage canister, nothing.
I run into the house and check all the rooms, closets, under the covers, I have been through this before. "Diego, I can't find Michael, help me look, check all the rooms again, NOW!"
I run outside to the middle of the street, looking both ways, the road seems to go on forever.
Two young men doing lawn work a couple of houses down come out from the back, they see me running aimlessly, my hair in my hands, almost like I could think better by yanking at the strands. They point across the street, and there sitting on the porch chair is Michael.
I run up to the house (he has actually chosen to settle himself into the meth house from the block, where parties never end, music never dies, drugs run wild and liquor runs deep, yes the house I want to visit, he beat me to it) in his hand is a Styrofoam cup, I grab it, empty. I smell it, nothing, he probably drank a cigarette like Snooki from Jersey Shore, the cup has no hints of alcohol, or even soda. I knock on the door, waiting for a hangover zombie to open the door and lead me to the dark side. No one answered. I walked out to the young men and thanked them.
They told me he was playing with the cups and they noticed him but didn't know where he came from, they noticed him alone and watched him.
The only thing he didn't do was light up the cigarettes sitting in front of him or roll up a joint, but give him time. I walked into the house, my face streaked with tears or sweat, I can't tell.
The weeds have lost their priority, for all I care the house could be covered by vines and uprooted by the massive oak tree out front, turning it into a tree house.
I am breathing deeply, the anxiety or panic attack, pick your word, comes tearing down my walls, I take a Xanax and set the tv back on for him, I glide the sofa, yes the big sofa people sit in to guard the door, now I am boarded up and he can't get out, he plays with the knobs of the window and leads me to believe, he just may climb out of there, I get the laptop, forget the laundry and for the next 6 hours watch over him like a hawk.
Alot of things could have happened, but this is how my weekend started. I haven't been able to blog or do much, guilt consumed my every thought, my every movement. I have learned to unhitch the doorknob, ghetto style, assuring that he cant get out. If God forbid a fire breaks out, the kids will just have to break a window. Which they did in their room, the only thing holding it together is tint put in place by the previous demented owner of this hell hole. Can you believe they actually tinted the windows purple. G-H-E-T-T-O fabulous, or Cubaniche style, one or the other, same difference.
Either way, my life is changing leaps and bounds with this hellion, and the only thing I can control is....ok so I have no control of much, but it gives me lots to blog about, it's been a hell of a weekend my friends. More to come.
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