Sometimes I wonder about those wispy half formed thoughts that slip from my grasp as I'm falling asleep. Last night my husband was talking about raccoons and weasels and I had some ghost of a phrase dancing on the edges of my consciousness as I fell asleep. I even told him, "I think it's a Ween song... if I had the energy I would go google it...something about not touching the weasel..." and I tried to remember it till this morning.
Sure enough, it stuck. It's The Stallion Pt. 3 from the Pure Guava album.
"Mach ten at sudden speed, flying into the wind now
I'm flowing at my feet something of likeness to you now
I spotted you in the sun, I called your name from a distance
I knew you were the one, I called again
I do declare I can float in the air
And with some love from above you must
Don't caress the weasel and don't fall too soon..."
Sometimes I can't help but wonder about myself. I feel like a passenger on the path my mind travels and I wonder why I don't seem to be driving. I mean, I know I am, but I am endlessly amazed at the creative leaps the mind can take without being purposefully prodded, you know?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
no children for you
There are some people who should not be allowed to breed. They are bad at parenting. He should at least get a trophy for worst father of the year, preferably made of lead, and delivered to him in the form of a bullet.
That's just my opinion. I have the feeling I am not alone.
That's just my opinion. I have the feeling I am not alone.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
bugs are weird
While doing a search on how to rid my pansies of aphids (answer: garlic oil!) I came across of page of very weird bugs. In their defense, I'm sure I look very weird to them, too.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Hello, my name is Doormat
I have been used as a human doormat for so many bitches and bastards in the course of my life that I have often wondered, "Do I have the words Please Shit On Me tattooed onto my forehead?" And then I have thought, "Of course not, that's just ridiculous. I'm being paranoid."
Today, however, I finally got proof that I am indeed a tasty morsel of passivity, at least I do appear that way to other people.
I was coming out of the grocery store this morning and there was a man standing there, who suddenly blurted, "Hi ma'am, do you have any change?" It's a nice store, a nice area, and although I've been panhandled a bajillion times before, it really threw me because I wasn't expecting it. I just walked around the corner and *bam* there was this man in my face asking me for money. I just stuttered and stared at him for a moment, and finally found my mouth long enough to tell him, "I'm sorry, I don't carry cash on me." Of course I do, duh, but I am of the opinion that saying, "No," could lead to being mugged, whereas, "I don't carry cash" is implying that mugging me is not worth the time.
It's not that I don't occasionally give people money, I do. It's just kind of a spur of the moment snap decision. And in that split moment I decided that guy could walk inside and get a job. They're hiring. I'm just saying.
I walked on to my car and put my groceries in, put the cart in it's corral, and in that span of time I noticed that the man was selectively asking people for money. The older couple he left alone. The big construction worker guy he left alone. Almost any woman walking by herself was approached, and suddenly, as if he was trying to catch them off guard. I don't know, maybe that works to his advantage. It didn't on me, however.
Instead, it pissed me off. It pissed me off so much, in fact, that I pulled out my receipt and called the store number that was written on the top. When I got an actual human on the line I informed them that there was some guy panhandling at the side entrance and maybe they might want to do something about that...
I sat there and watched. In less than twenty seconds a big strapping employee walked outside and marched right up to him. He didn't look around, didn't wonder it that was the right guy (I didn't tell them what he was wearing and he wasn't scrappy looking at all), he just walked up to him and from the looks of it he very clearly told him to shove off and quickly. The guy turned and immediately walked away, and I sat there for a moment longer and simmered in my irritated soup.
He made me feel like a powerless, weak woman, just because he ASSUMED I was.
I really wanted to follow him and yell something scathing at him, but that's just pointless. I drove home and enjoyed knowing I am not some random man's stupid little walking ATM. And I made him go away.
Hmph!
Today, however, I finally got proof that I am indeed a tasty morsel of passivity, at least I do appear that way to other people.
I was coming out of the grocery store this morning and there was a man standing there, who suddenly blurted, "Hi ma'am, do you have any change?" It's a nice store, a nice area, and although I've been panhandled a bajillion times before, it really threw me because I wasn't expecting it. I just walked around the corner and *bam* there was this man in my face asking me for money. I just stuttered and stared at him for a moment, and finally found my mouth long enough to tell him, "I'm sorry, I don't carry cash on me." Of course I do, duh, but I am of the opinion that saying, "No," could lead to being mugged, whereas, "I don't carry cash" is implying that mugging me is not worth the time.
It's not that I don't occasionally give people money, I do. It's just kind of a spur of the moment snap decision. And in that split moment I decided that guy could walk inside and get a job. They're hiring. I'm just saying.
I walked on to my car and put my groceries in, put the cart in it's corral, and in that span of time I noticed that the man was selectively asking people for money. The older couple he left alone. The big construction worker guy he left alone. Almost any woman walking by herself was approached, and suddenly, as if he was trying to catch them off guard. I don't know, maybe that works to his advantage. It didn't on me, however.
Instead, it pissed me off. It pissed me off so much, in fact, that I pulled out my receipt and called the store number that was written on the top. When I got an actual human on the line I informed them that there was some guy panhandling at the side entrance and maybe they might want to do something about that...
I sat there and watched. In less than twenty seconds a big strapping employee walked outside and marched right up to him. He didn't look around, didn't wonder it that was the right guy (I didn't tell them what he was wearing and he wasn't scrappy looking at all), he just walked up to him and from the looks of it he very clearly told him to shove off and quickly. The guy turned and immediately walked away, and I sat there for a moment longer and simmered in my irritated soup.
He made me feel like a powerless, weak woman, just because he ASSUMED I was.
I really wanted to follow him and yell something scathing at him, but that's just pointless. I drove home and enjoyed knowing I am not some random man's stupid little walking ATM. And I made him go away.
Hmph!
Saturday, April 21, 2007
judge me by my size, do you? and well you should not!
You Are a Pinky |
 You are fiercely independent, and possibly downright weird. A great communicator, you can get along with almost anyone. You are kind and sympathetic. You support all your friends - and love them for who they are. You get along well with: The Ring Finger Stay away from: The Thumb |
blogging drives a poor woman to think
You can read the gory and intimate details about her thinking problem for yourself.
Friday, April 20, 2007
when The Public is stupid
I've noticed a few asshats lately that have annoyed me, but nothing so much as warranting writing about. However, they have been adding up, and today one really threw me, so here's the top three:
1) The girl in Burger King last Friday. She was on her cell phone, I assume arguing with her boyfriend, I don't know. She yelled some guy's name all of a sudden and followed it with, "Why do you always have to DO this to me?! You're such an asshole! Now everyone is STARING at me! Good job, you jerk!" She went on, but I was already turning away so she couldn't see me laughing.
The thing is, no one knew what he did or didn't do, and the only reason anyone was looking at her was because she suddenly starting yelling, and part of what she was yelling was about how it was the guy's fault that everyone was looking at her. We were looking because she suddenly yelled, "NOW EVERYONE IS STARING AT ME!" That was actually the point where I turned around, because I thought there might be an actual altercation going on behind me, only to realize that she was on the phone, there was no guy there threatening her person. The irony was just too funny to me.
She hung up and stormed out. She might have been all of twenty, and a very immature twenty at that. Maybe I should have felt bad for her and whatever happened, but I just couldn't. She was ridiculous and swearing in front of a bunch of children. I swear in front of my child, but I certainly don't yell obscenities in front of OTHER people's children. Not cool.
Silly twit.
2) Two girls I saw coming off the public walkway near the beach were carrying armfuls of tulips. Both of them had piles and piles of gorgeous tulips in their hands, and as I drove by I realized that they had just come out of a little boardwalk over the marsh, where the city had planted a fabulous display of tulips. These girls were both early twenties at least, and damn old enough to know that plantings of flowers on public walkways does not entitle the public to just walk by and chop them down for themselves all willy nilly.
Dumb flower stealing bitches.
3) Today I was in JCPenney's and I was trying to find new clothes for my ever growing son while they had a big sale going. Turns out their sale was a sham and I only got him one shirt off of the clearance rack, but as I was shopping I heard the music over the speakers suddenly stop and a woman's voice came on. Her voice was crisp and clear, but her tone was gentle as she informed us all that the nation was taking a few moments of silence in recognition for the victims of the recent shooting at Virginia Tech. Since I was by myself, that was easy enough, but there was a couple nearby that were arguing about some purchase or another. They both were mid 50's and had very thick Brooklyn accents, which sticks out like a sore thumb in the South, and REALLY sticks out when someone has just announced over the loudspeakers that the nation is observing a moment of silence, because silence did indeed descend upon all of the store. No one spoke, except these two assholes who thought the discussion of what shirt would look good on some person who wasn't shopping with them was so freakin' important that they didn't notice or didn't care that their voices were ECHOING inside a suddenly VERY silent store.
Now, my husband lived in Blacksburg, and most of his friends attended school there; a few still do, including one of his sisters. So, although no one we know was hurt, it is still very literally close to home for us. And the fact that some dipshits were busy arguing about a stupid shirt and couldn't be bothered to shut up or even notice the silence around them just pissed me off. What was I supposed to do, yell, "Shut up you stupid assholes!" into the silence? That's hardly appropriate. And really, had I been at home I may have on the phone talking to someone myself, unaware that the moment of silence was supposed to be occurring. The difference is that those people were in public, and the public had been asked to be silent, but those two were apparently too important to notice or care.
Good job, you noisy, rude, arrogant and opinionated assholes.
You pissed me off more than anyone else this week.
1) The girl in Burger King last Friday. She was on her cell phone, I assume arguing with her boyfriend, I don't know. She yelled some guy's name all of a sudden and followed it with, "Why do you always have to DO this to me?! You're such an asshole! Now everyone is STARING at me! Good job, you jerk!" She went on, but I was already turning away so she couldn't see me laughing.
The thing is, no one knew what he did or didn't do, and the only reason anyone was looking at her was because she suddenly starting yelling, and part of what she was yelling was about how it was the guy's fault that everyone was looking at her. We were looking because she suddenly yelled, "NOW EVERYONE IS STARING AT ME!" That was actually the point where I turned around, because I thought there might be an actual altercation going on behind me, only to realize that she was on the phone, there was no guy there threatening her person. The irony was just too funny to me.
She hung up and stormed out. She might have been all of twenty, and a very immature twenty at that. Maybe I should have felt bad for her and whatever happened, but I just couldn't. She was ridiculous and swearing in front of a bunch of children. I swear in front of my child, but I certainly don't yell obscenities in front of OTHER people's children. Not cool.
Silly twit.
2) Two girls I saw coming off the public walkway near the beach were carrying armfuls of tulips. Both of them had piles and piles of gorgeous tulips in their hands, and as I drove by I realized that they had just come out of a little boardwalk over the marsh, where the city had planted a fabulous display of tulips. These girls were both early twenties at least, and damn old enough to know that plantings of flowers on public walkways does not entitle the public to just walk by and chop them down for themselves all willy nilly.
Dumb flower stealing bitches.
3) Today I was in JCPenney's and I was trying to find new clothes for my ever growing son while they had a big sale going. Turns out their sale was a sham and I only got him one shirt off of the clearance rack, but as I was shopping I heard the music over the speakers suddenly stop and a woman's voice came on. Her voice was crisp and clear, but her tone was gentle as she informed us all that the nation was taking a few moments of silence in recognition for the victims of the recent shooting at Virginia Tech. Since I was by myself, that was easy enough, but there was a couple nearby that were arguing about some purchase or another. They both were mid 50's and had very thick Brooklyn accents, which sticks out like a sore thumb in the South, and REALLY sticks out when someone has just announced over the loudspeakers that the nation is observing a moment of silence, because silence did indeed descend upon all of the store. No one spoke, except these two assholes who thought the discussion of what shirt would look good on some person who wasn't shopping with them was so freakin' important that they didn't notice or didn't care that their voices were ECHOING inside a suddenly VERY silent store.
Now, my husband lived in Blacksburg, and most of his friends attended school there; a few still do, including one of his sisters. So, although no one we know was hurt, it is still very literally close to home for us. And the fact that some dipshits were busy arguing about a stupid shirt and couldn't be bothered to shut up or even notice the silence around them just pissed me off. What was I supposed to do, yell, "Shut up you stupid assholes!" into the silence? That's hardly appropriate. And really, had I been at home I may have on the phone talking to someone myself, unaware that the moment of silence was supposed to be occurring. The difference is that those people were in public, and the public had been asked to be silent, but those two were apparently too important to notice or care.
Good job, you noisy, rude, arrogant and opinionated assholes.
You pissed me off more than anyone else this week.
despite my whining...
You Are Very Happy |
 Your life is totally together, and you enjoy every day. And you don't need a quiz to tell you that! You know how to find pleasure in the little things... And even when life isn't so great, you have a good sense of perspective. |
Bane, Bane, go away
My son's father called again a few days ago. It was the first time I've heard from him in a few months. He's been on a kick for the last few years now to just periodically call me (not his son) and ask me to cancel child support. It inconveniences him, you see. It ruins his credit, it makes it hard for him to get a good job. He can't get a good job, of course, because most good jobs do not pay under the table, but if he takes a normal job they will file his social security number, and once they do that he gets flagged by child support and they take money out of his check. Oh dear, oh dear, how that does inconvenience him. Especially now, since he's had a warrant out for his arrest since last June, when he refused to go back to court. He wouldn't go, of course, because they want him to PAY child support, and that's just too inconvenient for him. I wouldn't understand, he says.
He is correct.
Over the years I have steadily lowered the amount of child support he owes. At this point he owes $200 a month. (He currently owes $15,423 in past due payments. But he only owes $200 a month. Add that up. Yah.) Two hundred dollars. That's it. He doesn't have to pay for insurance like he used to. I went to court with him one time to agree to have him pay less in the hopes that perhaps he could at least manage to pay anything at all and stop this ridiculous cat and mouse game with the cops. That's not good enough for him. He wants me to just cancel child support altogether. According to him, he wouldn't have to pay child support at all if it wasn't for mean old me, and therefore, all the woe that befalls him because of his refusal to pay it is my fault.
In a roundabout way he is correct. It requires stuffing my head up my own ass to see his point of view, but once there, I see why he thinks his crappy life is my fault.
Then again, I could see it from a different point of view. I could see that there is a man who told a woman that he wanted her to have his baby. He then took no interest in his child except for whenever he found it convenient to do so, which wasn't often. He did pay child support for a whole year one time, because the job he had was too good to let go of; the only reason he lost that job was because he was caught driving a company vehicle while intoxicated. He again blamed the woman for his losing the job because she would not come bail his ass out of jail and help him get the car out of impound so he could drunkenly drive it back before his employers noticed it was gone; no, she was busy sitting on her ass at home while her child slept and refused to help her drunken ex get out of jail so he could continue his drunken driving. So he lost said job and has forever since been hopping from job to job in an effort to elude child support. Finally they put a warrant out for his arrest, and now, NOW if they find him he doesn't just get money taken out of his paycheck, he will get arrested, likely dragged handcuffed out of his place of employment. The police could arrest him elsewhere but he will not tell child support or his son's mother where he lives, so his job is the only place that the authorities could possibly find him. Once they arrest him, he must pay child support $1,000 before he can even get out of jail, and he does not have $1,000, nor does he know anyone stupid enough to loan him $1,000. Therefore, he is in quite a pickle and must constantly stay on the run. He could save up $1,000 but that is way too much money for him to save. He simply cannot do it, despite having nearly a year now in which to do it in. He is forty years old. A forty year old man should have his life together a little better than that, that is the differing view point I can see when my head is not crammed up my own ass in the effort to see things from his point of view.
So here we are, stuck. He calls me to ask me to cancel child support, I refuse, he waits a few months and calls and asks again.
Our conversation went like this:
Him: "So...I don't know what to do about this child support thing."
Me: "Hmm...you could pay it. That would work."
Him: "Er...I mean...uh. I want to take this good job, but if I do that then child support will find me by my social security number and I'll get arrested."
Me: "Yep. You're right. Why not just pay the thousand dollars, then, and take the job?"
Him: "Oh, well uh, I can't do that. I can't pay it... because I don't have the money."
Me: "Really? You called at Christmas and offered me six hundred dollars if I would just cancel child support, and I turned down your offer and told you to save your money so you could get the cops off your ass instead. I thought you would have been able to save up another four hundred dollars by now, what happened?"
Him: "Oh, I uh, you know... well, there was Christmas and all that shit, and uh..."
Me thinking: He spent $600 on Christmas? Really? Because he sent his son some dollar store toys, that sure wasn't $600 worth of shit. He doesn't talk to his family, he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he doesn't buy presents for his friends. Who does that leave? Oh, right: no one. Huh.
Me: "Yah. Christmas. Huh."
Him: "Yah, so uh... I don't have the thousand dollars, and I already accepted this job, so what am I going to do?"
Me breathing slowly, trying to maintain calm and balance in the face of mind numbing stupidity.
Me: "Why are you asking me? You call me every few months to ask me what I think you should do, but you never do it, so why ask me at all?"
Him: "Well, I..." Silence.
Me: "You refuse to take responsibilty for your own life and keep calling me to ask me to bail you out of your own troubles, but you never seem to recognize the fact that I'm busy. I'm busy taking care of the child that YOU can't be bothered to take care of because you're too busy taking care of whatever it is that YOU need."
Him: "Well, it's just that... I mean..." Pause. "You know, it really sucks that I don't ever get to see him at all! You guys don't bring him to see me here, and I can't afford to come up there and visit him, I don't have a car or anything..."
Note: the man does not own a car, a house, any form of insurance whatsoever, lives with other people so his name isn't on any bills lest the police find him; his cost of living is next to nothing. How much money would you have if you didn't have to pay for a car, gas, insurance, health insurance, etc? A lot? Yah. He supposedly is still clean, so his money is not going to alcohol and drugs, so what in the world costs him so much money?
Me: "You know what? I don't even want to hear about how sad you are that you can't see your son. The fact is, you don't bother. You don't really care, it's just something you say in the hopes that I will feel sorry for you, but I don't. Do you know why? Because you do not call your son, you don't write to him, hell, you don't even E-MAIL him! You don't care what's going on in his life and his world at all, so I don't want to hear a damn thing about how sad you are that you can't see him. If you cared AT ALL you would at LEAST try to talk to him, but you don't."
Him: recognizing he is not just cornered but the walls have collapsed upon his lamely constructed pity party, "Uh..." Very long silence. "Yah. I'm uh, gonna write him an e-mail when I get to work..." (He never did.) "So, uh... how is he?"
Me: "He just got done with Spring Break, he didn't want to go back to school, we've been slaving away over his science fair project, he can't wait until summer vacation because that means he gets to get away from his teacher who is a bitch and did I tell you he got his yellow belt?"
Him: "Wha...? Uh, no. Uh, he did, huh?"
Me: "Yes." (That was many months ago. And I did tell him. He just didn't care and thus, forgot.)
Him: "Yah, so uh, so, about those shoes..." The shoes are something he's been talking about sending for over eight months now. Supposedly someone gave him a pair of super expensive kids shoes that their kid wore, so he wanted to send them to us. I told him a few times that if he was going to send them he should hurry up and do it before they don't even fit anymore. I've had to buy my son all new clothes three times in the last year, he's grown so much. Each time he mentions the shoes I already know that he doesn't actually have any shoes, he's just making some shit up, because he DOES that to make himself sound better. There are no shoes. He's never had them. And he lies so much that I know he doesn't remember the original conversation we had about it, which he then proved by saying, "Sketchers are on sale right now, if you tell me what size he wears I could pick him up a pair with velcro. I know he likes the ones with velcro."
Me: "What are you talking about, buying him shoes? What happened to the shoes you were going to send?"
Him: "What? Wait... Uh... What are you...?" He gathers himself together and tries to outrun his lie by continuing to talk, "They're really nice shoes, the Sketchers. So how about you call me later and tell me what size shoes he wears?" He feels confident the lie has been forgotten. He is wrong.
Me: "You said you had a pair of really nice shoes your co-worker gave you, remember? And you were going to send them. That's how we got to talking about shoes, months ago. You never sent them, but you keep talking about shoes. He doesn't need new shoes, just forget about it."
Note: he does need new shoes, but either I could wait for a pair of shoes that will be discussed for another year or just buy him shoes. I have already bought him new shoes TWICE since this inane conversation about shoes started eight months ago. The last time was a month ago.
Him: in total denial of what I've just said, "Right, so call me when you get home and let me know what size shoes he's in. Look, I gotta go, I'm going to be late for work."
Me: "Yah, right. Bye." I hang up. I don't call him with any shoe sizes, nor does he call to find out. He does not send the e-mail he said he would, and I realize later that he never mentioned his son's birthday which is in a few weeks.
I secretly hope he won't even remember so I can give him more proof of what an asshole he is. My son won't care, he doesn't even like his dad anymore. He hates talking to him when he does call, and he never talks about him unless someone else brings him up. He has basically forgotten about him, and who could blame him? As he pointed out to me a few days ago, "My dad talks to me, like, what, twice a year? If that?" I tell him that his dad might call around his birthday. It's more of a warning than anything else, just to brace him for it.
I tell him that he will probably also call on Father's Day, "because he wants to be acknowledged that he is your father." My son actually said, "Ha. It's too bad they don't make a Father's Day card that would be good to send to him. One with a lot of curse words in it." I was rather taken aback, but tried to hide my shock. They're his feelings, and I don't want him to feel judged for having them. I'm not surprised he does. He stopped crying about his dad last year, now he just gets pissed off about him. Who could blame him?
His dad, not surprisingly, likes to blame me for his son's indifference toward him. He says I'm lying to him so I can turn him against his father. I tell him that he wishes I were so awful, but the reality is that I don't have to lie. There's plenty for his son to be pissed off about without any need for me to make shit up. Please.
The stupidest thing of all? Every time he calls I think maybe, just maybe, he's calling to say that he's paid child support and is getting his life together. It's not that we need the money, or that I care if he has any relationship with his son. I used to, but not anymore. I'm past caring about it. But part of me still hopes that he will straighten his life out. That, or die. It sucks to admit it, but I frankly do not care which it is. I just want him to stop being a pop-up-when-you-least-expect-it asshole. Either get it together or just go away forever. I really don't care. But the phone rings, so he's not dead. Maybe he got a clue?
Nope.
He is correct.
Over the years I have steadily lowered the amount of child support he owes. At this point he owes $200 a month. (He currently owes $15,423 in past due payments. But he only owes $200 a month. Add that up. Yah.) Two hundred dollars. That's it. He doesn't have to pay for insurance like he used to. I went to court with him one time to agree to have him pay less in the hopes that perhaps he could at least manage to pay anything at all and stop this ridiculous cat and mouse game with the cops. That's not good enough for him. He wants me to just cancel child support altogether. According to him, he wouldn't have to pay child support at all if it wasn't for mean old me, and therefore, all the woe that befalls him because of his refusal to pay it is my fault.
In a roundabout way he is correct. It requires stuffing my head up my own ass to see his point of view, but once there, I see why he thinks his crappy life is my fault.
Then again, I could see it from a different point of view. I could see that there is a man who told a woman that he wanted her to have his baby. He then took no interest in his child except for whenever he found it convenient to do so, which wasn't often. He did pay child support for a whole year one time, because the job he had was too good to let go of; the only reason he lost that job was because he was caught driving a company vehicle while intoxicated. He again blamed the woman for his losing the job because she would not come bail his ass out of jail and help him get the car out of impound so he could drunkenly drive it back before his employers noticed it was gone; no, she was busy sitting on her ass at home while her child slept and refused to help her drunken ex get out of jail so he could continue his drunken driving. So he lost said job and has forever since been hopping from job to job in an effort to elude child support. Finally they put a warrant out for his arrest, and now, NOW if they find him he doesn't just get money taken out of his paycheck, he will get arrested, likely dragged handcuffed out of his place of employment. The police could arrest him elsewhere but he will not tell child support or his son's mother where he lives, so his job is the only place that the authorities could possibly find him. Once they arrest him, he must pay child support $1,000 before he can even get out of jail, and he does not have $1,000, nor does he know anyone stupid enough to loan him $1,000. Therefore, he is in quite a pickle and must constantly stay on the run. He could save up $1,000 but that is way too much money for him to save. He simply cannot do it, despite having nearly a year now in which to do it in. He is forty years old. A forty year old man should have his life together a little better than that, that is the differing view point I can see when my head is not crammed up my own ass in the effort to see things from his point of view.
So here we are, stuck. He calls me to ask me to cancel child support, I refuse, he waits a few months and calls and asks again.
Our conversation went like this:
Him: "So...I don't know what to do about this child support thing."
Me: "Hmm...you could pay it. That would work."
Him: "Er...I mean...uh. I want to take this good job, but if I do that then child support will find me by my social security number and I'll get arrested."
Me: "Yep. You're right. Why not just pay the thousand dollars, then, and take the job?"
Him: "Oh, well uh, I can't do that. I can't pay it... because I don't have the money."
Me: "Really? You called at Christmas and offered me six hundred dollars if I would just cancel child support, and I turned down your offer and told you to save your money so you could get the cops off your ass instead. I thought you would have been able to save up another four hundred dollars by now, what happened?"
Him: "Oh, I uh, you know... well, there was Christmas and all that shit, and uh..."
Me thinking: He spent $600 on Christmas? Really? Because he sent his son some dollar store toys, that sure wasn't $600 worth of shit. He doesn't talk to his family, he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he doesn't buy presents for his friends. Who does that leave? Oh, right: no one. Huh.
Me: "Yah. Christmas. Huh."
Him: "Yah, so uh... I don't have the thousand dollars, and I already accepted this job, so what am I going to do?"
Me breathing slowly, trying to maintain calm and balance in the face of mind numbing stupidity.
Me: "Why are you asking me? You call me every few months to ask me what I think you should do, but you never do it, so why ask me at all?"
Him: "Well, I..." Silence.
Me: "You refuse to take responsibilty for your own life and keep calling me to ask me to bail you out of your own troubles, but you never seem to recognize the fact that I'm busy. I'm busy taking care of the child that YOU can't be bothered to take care of because you're too busy taking care of whatever it is that YOU need."
Him: "Well, it's just that... I mean..." Pause. "You know, it really sucks that I don't ever get to see him at all! You guys don't bring him to see me here, and I can't afford to come up there and visit him, I don't have a car or anything..."
Note: the man does not own a car, a house, any form of insurance whatsoever, lives with other people so his name isn't on any bills lest the police find him; his cost of living is next to nothing. How much money would you have if you didn't have to pay for a car, gas, insurance, health insurance, etc? A lot? Yah. He supposedly is still clean, so his money is not going to alcohol and drugs, so what in the world costs him so much money?
Me: "You know what? I don't even want to hear about how sad you are that you can't see your son. The fact is, you don't bother. You don't really care, it's just something you say in the hopes that I will feel sorry for you, but I don't. Do you know why? Because you do not call your son, you don't write to him, hell, you don't even E-MAIL him! You don't care what's going on in his life and his world at all, so I don't want to hear a damn thing about how sad you are that you can't see him. If you cared AT ALL you would at LEAST try to talk to him, but you don't."
Him: recognizing he is not just cornered but the walls have collapsed upon his lamely constructed pity party, "Uh..." Very long silence. "Yah. I'm uh, gonna write him an e-mail when I get to work..." (He never did.) "So, uh... how is he?"
Me: "He just got done with Spring Break, he didn't want to go back to school, we've been slaving away over his science fair project, he can't wait until summer vacation because that means he gets to get away from his teacher who is a bitch and did I tell you he got his yellow belt?"
Him: "Wha...? Uh, no. Uh, he did, huh?"
Me: "Yes." (That was many months ago. And I did tell him. He just didn't care and thus, forgot.)
Him: "Yah, so uh, so, about those shoes..." The shoes are something he's been talking about sending for over eight months now. Supposedly someone gave him a pair of super expensive kids shoes that their kid wore, so he wanted to send them to us. I told him a few times that if he was going to send them he should hurry up and do it before they don't even fit anymore. I've had to buy my son all new clothes three times in the last year, he's grown so much. Each time he mentions the shoes I already know that he doesn't actually have any shoes, he's just making some shit up, because he DOES that to make himself sound better. There are no shoes. He's never had them. And he lies so much that I know he doesn't remember the original conversation we had about it, which he then proved by saying, "Sketchers are on sale right now, if you tell me what size he wears I could pick him up a pair with velcro. I know he likes the ones with velcro."
Me: "What are you talking about, buying him shoes? What happened to the shoes you were going to send?"
Him: "What? Wait... Uh... What are you...?" He gathers himself together and tries to outrun his lie by continuing to talk, "They're really nice shoes, the Sketchers. So how about you call me later and tell me what size shoes he wears?" He feels confident the lie has been forgotten. He is wrong.
Me: "You said you had a pair of really nice shoes your co-worker gave you, remember? And you were going to send them. That's how we got to talking about shoes, months ago. You never sent them, but you keep talking about shoes. He doesn't need new shoes, just forget about it."
Note: he does need new shoes, but either I could wait for a pair of shoes that will be discussed for another year or just buy him shoes. I have already bought him new shoes TWICE since this inane conversation about shoes started eight months ago. The last time was a month ago.
Him: in total denial of what I've just said, "Right, so call me when you get home and let me know what size shoes he's in. Look, I gotta go, I'm going to be late for work."
Me: "Yah, right. Bye." I hang up. I don't call him with any shoe sizes, nor does he call to find out. He does not send the e-mail he said he would, and I realize later that he never mentioned his son's birthday which is in a few weeks.
I secretly hope he won't even remember so I can give him more proof of what an asshole he is. My son won't care, he doesn't even like his dad anymore. He hates talking to him when he does call, and he never talks about him unless someone else brings him up. He has basically forgotten about him, and who could blame him? As he pointed out to me a few days ago, "My dad talks to me, like, what, twice a year? If that?" I tell him that his dad might call around his birthday. It's more of a warning than anything else, just to brace him for it.
I tell him that he will probably also call on Father's Day, "because he wants to be acknowledged that he is your father." My son actually said, "Ha. It's too bad they don't make a Father's Day card that would be good to send to him. One with a lot of curse words in it." I was rather taken aback, but tried to hide my shock. They're his feelings, and I don't want him to feel judged for having them. I'm not surprised he does. He stopped crying about his dad last year, now he just gets pissed off about him. Who could blame him?
His dad, not surprisingly, likes to blame me for his son's indifference toward him. He says I'm lying to him so I can turn him against his father. I tell him that he wishes I were so awful, but the reality is that I don't have to lie. There's plenty for his son to be pissed off about without any need for me to make shit up. Please.
The stupidest thing of all? Every time he calls I think maybe, just maybe, he's calling to say that he's paid child support and is getting his life together. It's not that we need the money, or that I care if he has any relationship with his son. I used to, but not anymore. I'm past caring about it. But part of me still hopes that he will straighten his life out. That, or die. It sucks to admit it, but I frankly do not care which it is. I just want him to stop being a pop-up-when-you-least-expect-it asshole. Either get it together or just go away forever. I really don't care. But the phone rings, so he's not dead. Maybe he got a clue?
Nope.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
grease: so totally not my super best friend
I just can't eat grease like I used to.
This is the conclusion I have come to after eating at Burger King this past weekend. My son and I stopped there and wolfed down some veggie burgers, fries and sodas while in the midst of our five hour long shop-o-thon for supplies to create his science fair project. I didn't realize, sitting there munching French fries and pondering the projects parameters with him, that I was going to become science fair project worthy myself.
Ever since then, I have noticed my face seems to have become a human oil slick, and I assure you I am not delighted with this revelation. You see, I don't eat crap like that, almost ever. Mostly I eat what I cook, but if I am going out to eat I always want Japanese food: cucumber avocado rolls, piles of pickled ginger, miso soup, and green tea. Those crispy, salty, deep fried "potato" sticks that I consumed on Friday seem to have thrown my body into an all out revolt. I don't blame it. When I see what it's trying to kick out of my system, I too am revolted.
What's the deal? I used to eat the most horrible crap when I was a teenager, at least in the earlier years. By sixteen I was a vegetarian, by eighteen a vegan, and although I've gone back to eating dairy products and meat now and then, the overall quality of food I eat has improved drastically because of those vegetarian/vegan years. I learned to appreciate the subtle flavors and textures and spices of things that weren't typical American cuisine; greasy and salted. Now I find food like that to be horrific and tasteless- no wonder it's so heavily salted! The point is, my body can't tolerate it anymore.
That leads me to wonder: did my body ever really tolerate it? Or was I just used to living in a state of continual unhealthiness, so I never noticed the difference until I quit eating all that shit?
I do believe it's the latter. That, and grease is not my friend. Blech. I think I'll go steam clean my face now...
This is the conclusion I have come to after eating at Burger King this past weekend. My son and I stopped there and wolfed down some veggie burgers, fries and sodas while in the midst of our five hour long shop-o-thon for supplies to create his science fair project. I didn't realize, sitting there munching French fries and pondering the projects parameters with him, that I was going to become science fair project worthy myself.
Ever since then, I have noticed my face seems to have become a human oil slick, and I assure you I am not delighted with this revelation. You see, I don't eat crap like that, almost ever. Mostly I eat what I cook, but if I am going out to eat I always want Japanese food: cucumber avocado rolls, piles of pickled ginger, miso soup, and green tea. Those crispy, salty, deep fried "potato" sticks that I consumed on Friday seem to have thrown my body into an all out revolt. I don't blame it. When I see what it's trying to kick out of my system, I too am revolted.
What's the deal? I used to eat the most horrible crap when I was a teenager, at least in the earlier years. By sixteen I was a vegetarian, by eighteen a vegan, and although I've gone back to eating dairy products and meat now and then, the overall quality of food I eat has improved drastically because of those vegetarian/vegan years. I learned to appreciate the subtle flavors and textures and spices of things that weren't typical American cuisine; greasy and salted. Now I find food like that to be horrific and tasteless- no wonder it's so heavily salted! The point is, my body can't tolerate it anymore.
That leads me to wonder: did my body ever really tolerate it? Or was I just used to living in a state of continual unhealthiness, so I never noticed the difference until I quit eating all that shit?
I do believe it's the latter. That, and grease is not my friend. Blech. I think I'll go steam clean my face now...
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Self
Chih-men was asked, "What is my self?"
He replied, "Who is asking?"
The questioner said, "Please help me more."
Chih-men said, "The robber is a coward at heart."
From "The Pocket Zen Reader," edited by Thomas Cleary, 1999.
He replied, "Who is asking?"
The questioner said, "Please help me more."
Chih-men said, "The robber is a coward at heart."
From "The Pocket Zen Reader," edited by Thomas Cleary, 1999.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
monkeys are awesome and I want a lemur
I want a furry little creature to live in our house so that I may snuggle it. Alas, I want it to clean up after itself as well. It appears I cannot have both. Neither can I have the pygmy mouse lemur as a pet, seeing as how it is endangered and all.
Besides, it's nocturnal. All I could do all day would be to pet it's little sleeping head (I'm totally ok with that) but then it would keep me up all night eating my bananas. That could be a problem.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
good gifts
I think this is so cool I can't let you miss out on the giving of good gifts.
It even has a bridal registry! Now that is slick.
It even has a bridal registry! Now that is slick.
News Flash: I'm Hot
I am hot. I'm on freaking fire. But probably not in the way you're thinking: I'm talking about hot flashes.
Yes, my dear old friend You're-Fucking-Kidding-Me is still hanging around. I talk about it much, because it's really not fun. I'm still getting hot flashes, they are far worse during my period and I'm currently cooling down from a doozy that had me in the bathroom waiting to puke. That was awesome.
On the upside, my last period lasted all of two or three days at most. Double bonus: my mother-in-law claims that menopause made her boobs grow huge. When she told me that I nearly screamed with joy, and she tried to rain on my titty parade by telling me, "Trust me! You don't WANT them!" I denied her and said, "Oh, I've HAD them (when I was nursing my son) and oh yes I do." I'm guessing breast enlargement is not a common occurrence for menopausal women, or else I would have heard a lot more about it. I do research it quite a bit. Especially when sitting here topless and panting and trying to figure out What The Fuck and mumbling random prayers to any generous deities that might be listening in to a nauseous, glassy eyed, topless girl who is googling "hot flashes" and mumbling incoherently.
My friend 'Doodles called near the end of it and said, "Oh, did I wake you up?" I am assuming she would have guessed that from my slow, slurred speech filled with exhaustion. It was a good guess. I told her no and told her what was going on, and she asked me my opinion on shopping for bridesmaids dresses. Now, at any other time I would have begged to be allowed to tag along (being one of the bridesmaids I have a personal interest, of course, but watching her do wedding stuff is a joy in and of itself) but this time it was all I could do to hold the phone to my ear and make sense. I was completely and utterly drained. My eyes are half shut even typing this. If it weren't for spell check I would be utterly screwed.
Now I am stuck with the quandary of being hungry but so freaked out from my near puke-attack that I don't want to eat a damn thing. I was actually making a long overdue lunch when the damn thing hit, and my son is finished eating while I sit here trying to convince myself that my stomach is NOT filled with crawling bugs and slithering worms, despite the rather compelling sensation that it is. It lies.
I've managed to put one layer back on. A tank top. My lovely pink sweater is still sitting in a mangled heap on the table where I frantically threw it after ripping it off of my fiery self. Dammit, I'm so hungry. Does anyone have any easy to swallow nourishing meals, perhaps coated in sedatives? That would be lovely...
And no pity party, at least not yet. My dumb ass hasn't been taking my oh so fabulous vitamins, the ones that are filled with hormonal influx herbs, nor have I been taking the extra calcium like I'm supposed to. My husband went out of town and I just got lazy about (I'm bad about remembering to take them, naughty, naughty Zoot!) so it's my own dumb fault. When I take them it's nothing so bad as all this. I'll, uh, go take them just as soon as I can get some food down.
Argh.
Yes, my dear old friend You're-Fucking-Kidding-Me is still hanging around. I talk about it much, because it's really not fun. I'm still getting hot flashes, they are far worse during my period and I'm currently cooling down from a doozy that had me in the bathroom waiting to puke. That was awesome.
On the upside, my last period lasted all of two or three days at most. Double bonus: my mother-in-law claims that menopause made her boobs grow huge. When she told me that I nearly screamed with joy, and she tried to rain on my titty parade by telling me, "Trust me! You don't WANT them!" I denied her and said, "Oh, I've HAD them (when I was nursing my son) and oh yes I do." I'm guessing breast enlargement is not a common occurrence for menopausal women, or else I would have heard a lot more about it. I do research it quite a bit. Especially when sitting here topless and panting and trying to figure out What The Fuck and mumbling random prayers to any generous deities that might be listening in to a nauseous, glassy eyed, topless girl who is googling "hot flashes" and mumbling incoherently.
My friend 'Doodles called near the end of it and said, "Oh, did I wake you up?" I am assuming she would have guessed that from my slow, slurred speech filled with exhaustion. It was a good guess. I told her no and told her what was going on, and she asked me my opinion on shopping for bridesmaids dresses. Now, at any other time I would have begged to be allowed to tag along (being one of the bridesmaids I have a personal interest, of course, but watching her do wedding stuff is a joy in and of itself) but this time it was all I could do to hold the phone to my ear and make sense. I was completely and utterly drained. My eyes are half shut even typing this. If it weren't for spell check I would be utterly screwed.
Now I am stuck with the quandary of being hungry but so freaked out from my near puke-attack that I don't want to eat a damn thing. I was actually making a long overdue lunch when the damn thing hit, and my son is finished eating while I sit here trying to convince myself that my stomach is NOT filled with crawling bugs and slithering worms, despite the rather compelling sensation that it is. It lies.
I've managed to put one layer back on. A tank top. My lovely pink sweater is still sitting in a mangled heap on the table where I frantically threw it after ripping it off of my fiery self. Dammit, I'm so hungry. Does anyone have any easy to swallow nourishing meals, perhaps coated in sedatives? That would be lovely...
And no pity party, at least not yet. My dumb ass hasn't been taking my oh so fabulous vitamins, the ones that are filled with hormonal influx herbs, nor have I been taking the extra calcium like I'm supposed to. My husband went out of town and I just got lazy about (I'm bad about remembering to take them, naughty, naughty Zoot!) so it's my own dumb fault. When I take them it's nothing so bad as all this. I'll, uh, go take them just as soon as I can get some food down.
Argh.
Monday, April 09, 2007
25 signs that you've grown up for good
I got this as an e-mail and was rather amused.
1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.
2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.
3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
5. You hear your favorite song in an elevator.
6. You watch the Weather Channel.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and break up."
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."
10. You're the one calling the police because those %&@# kids next door won't turn down the stereo.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.
13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.
16. You take naps.
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather than settle, your stomach.
19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good shit."
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.
22. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going to drink that much again."
23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.
25. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate them instead of asking "Oh shit, what the hell happened?"
1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.
2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.
3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
5. You hear your favorite song in an elevator.
6. You watch the Weather Channel.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and break up."
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."
10. You're the one calling the police because those %&@# kids next door won't turn down the stereo.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.
13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.
16. You take naps.
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather than settle, your stomach.
19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good shit."
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.
22. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going to drink that much again."
23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.
25. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate them instead of asking "Oh shit, what the hell happened?"
the Post Office gets geeky
What's up, United States Postal Service? You decided to get all wickedly geeky and make me love you, huh? Ok, ok...but one thing: could you please leave the last three movies out of it? Because I totally would have wanted these if the third one was the Falcon, instead. Could you just stick the to original trilogy, pretty please?
love for my husband (family included)
Dear hubby is out of town while the little monkeybutt and I hang out at home during monkeybutt's spring break. I must say I'm glad he's here, I think the sheer loneliness would drive me insane even while he was at school, and normally I love the time alone.
It's been really weird. It's always weird when Jack leaves town. The first thing I do is boobytrap my house, because I am innately paranoid, and doubly so without my strapping husband around. I wonder how I managed before him? I slept with the shotgun near the bed, you know, just in case. I watched The Dresden Files on Sunday night, like we always do, but this time it ended and I was overwhelmed with fear. Usually it's just the two of us excitedly discussing the plot, but without him there to bounce ideas off of, the ideas just gnawed at my brain instead. And when I laid down to sleep, finally, with my son in our bed (if I needed to use a shotgun I'd rather know he was behind me) I reached for the warm hand I was so used to holding every night, but it wasn't there. I laid there and silently wept for a few minutes, then went to sleep.
Jack is off visiting his brother. Just knowing his brother is so damn complicated. On a deep level I love him; on the surface he annoys the shit out of me, for no other reason than he cops so much fucking attitude with me. Jack swears this is just his brothers way, it's nothing personal, he just fears letting people get too close. Yah, ok, I get it. Now GET OVER IT. *sigh* He makes it impossible to enjoy his company very often. Sometimes he's really nice, but sometimes... he can really be an asshole.
He came with his girlfriend at Christmas. I had spent days shopping for them at the last second, buying food just for them (he has food allergies) and making the house all around comfy for their stay. I even threw the cushion for the papasan chair down on the floor for their dog (who I adore) and had to throw the damn thing out afterwards, it was so permeated with dog smell. It was my choice, I'm just saying that I went out of my way to make them feel as comfortable as possible.
They are both tweaky, but she's tweakier than he is, insofar as she is more anxious and quiet. Hell, that's right up my alley, I know all about anxious. I tried to make her feel welcomed and appreciated, even sitting in the kitchen while she made everyone coffee one morning, just sitting on the counter and yapping about nothing. Just frivolous chatter to be friendly and let her be quiet, because she rarely opens her mouth and she seems more uncomfortable as time goes on. She seems to relax when I talk to her, even if she rarely answers me. I did briefly talk about my own anxiety disorder and how it affects me, just to let her know that I get it, and she doesn't have to explain or try to put on the brave face with me, it's totally ok. She talked a little bit then, nodding emphatically and mentioning a few things that are hard for her, too.
By the time she was nearly done making coffee my darling brother in law came in to the dining room where Jack was sitting and loudly said, "Damn, dude, your crazy ass wife hasn't shut the fuck up in the last twenty minutes! (His girlfriend) hasn't spoken a fucking word the whole time! Jesus!" She had, but that's not the point. I was sitting on the counter five feet away from him. I just looked at him. I really didn't know what to say, at least, I didn't know what to say that wasn't totally shitty. Like, "She's got a mouth, asshole, if she wants to use it she can." Or, "She's a big girl, if I'm bugging her I'm sure she can speak up for herself." Or, "I'm right here you pissy shriveled nutsack, if you have a problem you can take it up with ME instead of talking to my husband and trying to belittle me like the asshole that you are." After loading them up with presents and gifts and cooking and tending to their every need, he just goes the fuck off about nothing. Well, just because he wanted to act like an asshole didn't mean I had to, and I chose not to. He's usually a mean bastard when he wakes up, so I just chalked it up to that and tried to blow it off.
Later on that day they wanted to go to the mall, and when I tried to figure out what the plan was, I got the very definite impression that they wanted Jack to go, but I was NOT invited. Of course, no one would actually SAY that, so it was just another lame ass underhanded smack in the face. When Jack came back and they left, he told me how his brother was going off about me and my big mouth. Jack defends me, but that's not the point. I had had enough.
I told Jack, "Look. Some day your brother is going to grow up. Until then, I don't want to see him. Really. If he comes into town, I'm going to a fucking hotel. I mean it. I don't need to be treated like shit. Fuck him." Jack was a pile of worry, because his wife and his brother weren't getting along, and I calmed him as best as I could by explaining, "Look, I'm never going to get between the relationship you have for your brother, although I seriously fucking doubt he could say the same thing about ME. I didn't chew his ass out, even though he deserved it, because I knew it would upset you. But neither am I going to put up with his bullshit bitch attitude either."
Well, months passed and I had mostly gotten over it. Jack's birthday rolled around and he really wanted to see his brother. I tried to get a secretive birthday plan together and e-mailed his brother to see if he could come for a birthday party. Within ten minutes of me sending the e-mail, Jack's phone rang. It's his brother. He wished Jack a happy birthday and told him he really wanted to come to see him but he couldn't get out of work, so how about Jack comes to see him instead?
*flames shoot out of my head*
I asked Jack, "Is that your brother on the phone?" He nodded happily. I said, "Will you ask him if he got my e-mail I just sent?" He asked him and then nodded again. It took all I had not to grab the phone and just scream until his brothers ears bled. I had told him I was trying to plan a surprise party. So since he can't come, he asks Jack to come visit him for the weekend instead! Wow! What an awesome surprise party THAT would be! Surprise! Jack isn't here!
In short, I had to tell Jack my plans, because otherwise he may have gone off to see his brother instead. Surprise, ruined. All because his selfish bitch of a brother wanted to have things HIS way and who gives a fuck about anyone else? Jack decided he would stay and then go visit his brother later. He then paused and asked if I minded if he went alone. I tried not to explode. "Hell no, I don't want to go! Go! Have fun! I don't want to see him! The little asshole tried to completely undermine the plans I had for your birthday! I doubt he even remembered it WAS your birthday! He called AS SOON AS he got my e-mail, and fucked up the surprise I had been working on. Fuck him. No. Go. Enjoy. And maybe I'll send a little package along because I KNOW how much he loves my cooking. Yah. It'll be a big fat Tupperware stuffed with pork chops, but when he opens them up he'll realize they're only squeaky dog toys and then he'll turn one over and see that I wrote on the back, 'Why you gotta be such a BITCH?'" I started laughing, Jack did not.
Well, whatever. I did everything in my power to keep my anger to myself, even this past weekend while his mother and sister came into town and I spent hours cooking and keeping them company while Jack frantically tried to finish a project for work so he could actually get to go see his brother, too. Then I packed enough food for Jack (making sure not to pack enough for his brother), and omitted the squeaky pork chops, despite my desire to throw them in there, too.
Now Jack is there and I miss him terribly, and it's really hard to not resent the fact that he's having such a grand time with someone who treats me like shit. If it was anyone but family I would draw the line, but it's his goddamn BROTHER. His family is torn apart enough without adding fuel to the fire, and I'm just hoping I can avoid the little bastard until he gets that mega sized stick out of his ass and I don't know, let me just love him like I actually want to? Instead of him being a fucking jerk to me? The thing is, I really don't believe he IS an asshole, deep down. He's just a traumatized reactionary asshole, and I've been there and done that, so I'm not forming any permanent judgments against him for it. Sometimes he's really sweet and loving, so I know it's in there.
Damn. I thought I had a tough little shell to protect myself. He shows me how far I've actually crawled out of mine in the last ten years. I just hope he'll find his way out, too, because he's making it difficult for everyone, most of all, Jack. Jack was very hesitant about going at all because, "it's just going to make you mad." That was when I had to explain to him that I'm made of tougher stuff than that, and I wouldn't ever make him pick between his brother and me, no matter what his brother did. However, I most definitely WILL draw the line at being shit on again, so go, go, go have fun with your brother. I want no part of it.
*sigh*
Jack called a few minutes ago and was being so mushy that I had to bust him. "You're not anywhere near your brother, are you?" I asked. He said, "No, I'm on the back porch." I said, "Yah, I know, because otherwise he would totally be ripping on you for saying you missed my snuggles." Jack laughed and agreed. We talked for awhile and he'll be home tomorrow. I told him to have fun and enjoy his visit, and then we said our goodbyes. He sounded rather lonesome, and I managed to keep it out of my voice as best as I could. I don't want him to feel guilty for going, no matter how I feel about it.
I'm just glad he went. Without me.
It's been really weird. It's always weird when Jack leaves town. The first thing I do is boobytrap my house, because I am innately paranoid, and doubly so without my strapping husband around. I wonder how I managed before him? I slept with the shotgun near the bed, you know, just in case. I watched The Dresden Files on Sunday night, like we always do, but this time it ended and I was overwhelmed with fear. Usually it's just the two of us excitedly discussing the plot, but without him there to bounce ideas off of, the ideas just gnawed at my brain instead. And when I laid down to sleep, finally, with my son in our bed (if I needed to use a shotgun I'd rather know he was behind me) I reached for the warm hand I was so used to holding every night, but it wasn't there. I laid there and silently wept for a few minutes, then went to sleep.
Jack is off visiting his brother. Just knowing his brother is so damn complicated. On a deep level I love him; on the surface he annoys the shit out of me, for no other reason than he cops so much fucking attitude with me. Jack swears this is just his brothers way, it's nothing personal, he just fears letting people get too close. Yah, ok, I get it. Now GET OVER IT. *sigh* He makes it impossible to enjoy his company very often. Sometimes he's really nice, but sometimes... he can really be an asshole.
He came with his girlfriend at Christmas. I had spent days shopping for them at the last second, buying food just for them (he has food allergies) and making the house all around comfy for their stay. I even threw the cushion for the papasan chair down on the floor for their dog (who I adore) and had to throw the damn thing out afterwards, it was so permeated with dog smell. It was my choice, I'm just saying that I went out of my way to make them feel as comfortable as possible.
They are both tweaky, but she's tweakier than he is, insofar as she is more anxious and quiet. Hell, that's right up my alley, I know all about anxious. I tried to make her feel welcomed and appreciated, even sitting in the kitchen while she made everyone coffee one morning, just sitting on the counter and yapping about nothing. Just frivolous chatter to be friendly and let her be quiet, because she rarely opens her mouth and she seems more uncomfortable as time goes on. She seems to relax when I talk to her, even if she rarely answers me. I did briefly talk about my own anxiety disorder and how it affects me, just to let her know that I get it, and she doesn't have to explain or try to put on the brave face with me, it's totally ok. She talked a little bit then, nodding emphatically and mentioning a few things that are hard for her, too.
By the time she was nearly done making coffee my darling brother in law came in to the dining room where Jack was sitting and loudly said, "Damn, dude, your crazy ass wife hasn't shut the fuck up in the last twenty minutes! (His girlfriend) hasn't spoken a fucking word the whole time! Jesus!" She had, but that's not the point. I was sitting on the counter five feet away from him. I just looked at him. I really didn't know what to say, at least, I didn't know what to say that wasn't totally shitty. Like, "She's got a mouth, asshole, if she wants to use it she can." Or, "She's a big girl, if I'm bugging her I'm sure she can speak up for herself." Or, "I'm right here you pissy shriveled nutsack, if you have a problem you can take it up with ME instead of talking to my husband and trying to belittle me like the asshole that you are." After loading them up with presents and gifts and cooking and tending to their every need, he just goes the fuck off about nothing. Well, just because he wanted to act like an asshole didn't mean I had to, and I chose not to. He's usually a mean bastard when he wakes up, so I just chalked it up to that and tried to blow it off.
Later on that day they wanted to go to the mall, and when I tried to figure out what the plan was, I got the very definite impression that they wanted Jack to go, but I was NOT invited. Of course, no one would actually SAY that, so it was just another lame ass underhanded smack in the face. When Jack came back and they left, he told me how his brother was going off about me and my big mouth. Jack defends me, but that's not the point. I had had enough.
I told Jack, "Look. Some day your brother is going to grow up. Until then, I don't want to see him. Really. If he comes into town, I'm going to a fucking hotel. I mean it. I don't need to be treated like shit. Fuck him." Jack was a pile of worry, because his wife and his brother weren't getting along, and I calmed him as best as I could by explaining, "Look, I'm never going to get between the relationship you have for your brother, although I seriously fucking doubt he could say the same thing about ME. I didn't chew his ass out, even though he deserved it, because I knew it would upset you. But neither am I going to put up with his bullshit bitch attitude either."
Well, months passed and I had mostly gotten over it. Jack's birthday rolled around and he really wanted to see his brother. I tried to get a secretive birthday plan together and e-mailed his brother to see if he could come for a birthday party. Within ten minutes of me sending the e-mail, Jack's phone rang. It's his brother. He wished Jack a happy birthday and told him he really wanted to come to see him but he couldn't get out of work, so how about Jack comes to see him instead?
*flames shoot out of my head*
I asked Jack, "Is that your brother on the phone?" He nodded happily. I said, "Will you ask him if he got my e-mail I just sent?" He asked him and then nodded again. It took all I had not to grab the phone and just scream until his brothers ears bled. I had told him I was trying to plan a surprise party. So since he can't come, he asks Jack to come visit him for the weekend instead! Wow! What an awesome surprise party THAT would be! Surprise! Jack isn't here!
In short, I had to tell Jack my plans, because otherwise he may have gone off to see his brother instead. Surprise, ruined. All because his selfish bitch of a brother wanted to have things HIS way and who gives a fuck about anyone else? Jack decided he would stay and then go visit his brother later. He then paused and asked if I minded if he went alone. I tried not to explode. "Hell no, I don't want to go! Go! Have fun! I don't want to see him! The little asshole tried to completely undermine the plans I had for your birthday! I doubt he even remembered it WAS your birthday! He called AS SOON AS he got my e-mail, and fucked up the surprise I had been working on. Fuck him. No. Go. Enjoy. And maybe I'll send a little package along because I KNOW how much he loves my cooking. Yah. It'll be a big fat Tupperware stuffed with pork chops, but when he opens them up he'll realize they're only squeaky dog toys and then he'll turn one over and see that I wrote on the back, 'Why you gotta be such a BITCH?'" I started laughing, Jack did not.
Well, whatever. I did everything in my power to keep my anger to myself, even this past weekend while his mother and sister came into town and I spent hours cooking and keeping them company while Jack frantically tried to finish a project for work so he could actually get to go see his brother, too. Then I packed enough food for Jack (making sure not to pack enough for his brother), and omitted the squeaky pork chops, despite my desire to throw them in there, too.
Now Jack is there and I miss him terribly, and it's really hard to not resent the fact that he's having such a grand time with someone who treats me like shit. If it was anyone but family I would draw the line, but it's his goddamn BROTHER. His family is torn apart enough without adding fuel to the fire, and I'm just hoping I can avoid the little bastard until he gets that mega sized stick out of his ass and I don't know, let me just love him like I actually want to? Instead of him being a fucking jerk to me? The thing is, I really don't believe he IS an asshole, deep down. He's just a traumatized reactionary asshole, and I've been there and done that, so I'm not forming any permanent judgments against him for it. Sometimes he's really sweet and loving, so I know it's in there.
Damn. I thought I had a tough little shell to protect myself. He shows me how far I've actually crawled out of mine in the last ten years. I just hope he'll find his way out, too, because he's making it difficult for everyone, most of all, Jack. Jack was very hesitant about going at all because, "it's just going to make you mad." That was when I had to explain to him that I'm made of tougher stuff than that, and I wouldn't ever make him pick between his brother and me, no matter what his brother did. However, I most definitely WILL draw the line at being shit on again, so go, go, go have fun with your brother. I want no part of it.
*sigh*
Jack called a few minutes ago and was being so mushy that I had to bust him. "You're not anywhere near your brother, are you?" I asked. He said, "No, I'm on the back porch." I said, "Yah, I know, because otherwise he would totally be ripping on you for saying you missed my snuggles." Jack laughed and agreed. We talked for awhile and he'll be home tomorrow. I told him to have fun and enjoy his visit, and then we said our goodbyes. He sounded rather lonesome, and I managed to keep it out of my voice as best as I could. I don't want him to feel guilty for going, no matter how I feel about it.
I'm just glad he went. Without me.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
The Sound of Cheese
Last night The Sound of Music was playing on TV, and since both my husband and son were each glued by the face to their computers, I said to hell with it and watched it, knowing full well that both of them would groan horribly if forced to endure the entire movie.
I always loved the movie. My mother loved the movie, and couldn't wait until it aired every year, just as it's doing again this year on ABC.7PM, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. Oh yah.
Before you judge me for my completely Velveeta taste, you must know this about why I love this movie:
1) They escape from the Nazi's. Hell yah! I don't know why I have always been so darkly obsessed with Nazi's (although I had a physic tell me I was brutally raped to death by them in my past life, and I didn't believe nor disbelieve him), but I always have been.
2) The unhappy children in a dysfunctional family become happy children again in a happy family. What kid doesn't dream of that?
3) Duh! Julie Andrew's voice! Hello? The almighty queen of magnificent enunciation, her lightly British accent just kills me, and the woman can SING, don't you ever try to deny it, I may skewer you. Really. I may verbally fight you to death if you try to diss the sheer talent of that woman to utter anything at all. She could curse like a sailor and it would sound like music.
4) I sang it in Show Choir. I was very involved in many choirs when I was younger.
5) My best friend in 7th grade loved it as much as I did.
6) I dated a hot little Snack Cake who I became entirely smitten for after he told me that he used to watch it every year with his mother and then proceeded to sing the puppet show song from the musical, right there in a crowded coffee shop. Oh, he didn't! Yes, he did! *swoon*
7) I will frequently sing various songs from the Soundtrack while alone at home or driving. It makes me happy and keeps my no-longer-being-used-for-choir voice vaguely in shape. So do choice Ella Fitzgerald songs ("The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" in particular) but that's another matter.
And last but most certainly not least...
8) When Jack and I first met, I often found myself humming the song that Maria and Captain Von Trapp were singing in the gazebo when they finally admitted they were in love with each other.
"Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good"
I told Jack that I wanted him to hear the song, even if he didn't watch. I told him that the song ran through my head over and over when he and I first got together. And so he did, occasionally smiling sweetly at me and making some kind of cooing noise. I realized, watching it, that Jack and I respond to each other much like Captain Von Trapp and Maria, the way he kisses her head, softly, the way she is timid and uncertain, the way he is strong and assertive.
*sigh* It made me all mushy inside.
And let's face it; I, like Maria, would have made a very lousy nun.
I always loved the movie. My mother loved the movie, and couldn't wait until it aired every year, just as it's doing again this year on ABC.7PM, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. Oh yah.
Before you judge me for my completely Velveeta taste, you must know this about why I love this movie:
1) They escape from the Nazi's. Hell yah! I don't know why I have always been so darkly obsessed with Nazi's (although I had a physic tell me I was brutally raped to death by them in my past life, and I didn't believe nor disbelieve him), but I always have been.
2) The unhappy children in a dysfunctional family become happy children again in a happy family. What kid doesn't dream of that?
3) Duh! Julie Andrew's voice! Hello? The almighty queen of magnificent enunciation, her lightly British accent just kills me, and the woman can SING, don't you ever try to deny it, I may skewer you. Really. I may verbally fight you to death if you try to diss the sheer talent of that woman to utter anything at all. She could curse like a sailor and it would sound like music.
4) I sang it in Show Choir. I was very involved in many choirs when I was younger.
5) My best friend in 7th grade loved it as much as I did.
6) I dated a hot little Snack Cake who I became entirely smitten for after he told me that he used to watch it every year with his mother and then proceeded to sing the puppet show song from the musical, right there in a crowded coffee shop. Oh, he didn't! Yes, he did! *swoon*
7) I will frequently sing various songs from the Soundtrack while alone at home or driving. It makes me happy and keeps my no-longer-being-used-for-choir voice vaguely in shape. So do choice Ella Fitzgerald songs ("The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" in particular) but that's another matter.
And last but most certainly not least...
8) When Jack and I first met, I often found myself humming the song that Maria and Captain Von Trapp were singing in the gazebo when they finally admitted they were in love with each other.
"Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good"
I told Jack that I wanted him to hear the song, even if he didn't watch. I told him that the song ran through my head over and over when he and I first got together. And so he did, occasionally smiling sweetly at me and making some kind of cooing noise. I realized, watching it, that Jack and I respond to each other much like Captain Von Trapp and Maria, the way he kisses her head, softly, the way she is timid and uncertain, the way he is strong and assertive.
*sigh* It made me all mushy inside.
And let's face it; I, like Maria, would have made a very lousy nun.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Public Service Announcement:
Spring Break is here! Let the *napping while your child plays video games* officially begin!
And then the science fair project, finishing the taxes, visits to and from the in-laws and various other tasks shall commence, but not before the celebratory video game/napping festivities!
Huzzah!
And then the science fair project, finishing the taxes, visits to and from the in-laws and various other tasks shall commence, but not before the celebratory video game/napping festivities!
Huzzah!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Neighbors: Only Good For Blog Fodder?
I really don't care for my neighbors. They are strange mutant people that do seem to comprehend the concept of apartment living. Anyone who has ever lived in an apartment knows what a pain in the ass your neighbors can be. Over the years I've had some truly horrendous neighbors.
I had ones who lived below me and the guys who lived there would come out as soon as I pulled up, then watch me walk up the stairs and stand there looking up through the slats in the wooden deck trying to get a peek up my skirt. They did that until one of my very large and scary punk rock friends loudly announced that she was going to squat down and piss on the deck if those bastards downstairs didn't knock off the perv shit. They stopped. I used to hear what sounded frighteningly like gun shots from their apartment, and one night I missed the ultimate in hilarity when I got home and my boyfriend told me I had just missed the two brothers drunkenly fighting in the parking lot, when one took off his prosthetic leg and proceeded to bash the other one in the head with it.
That same apartment had the crazy white trash mom who came over to ask me one day if I would drive her to the loony bin to go visit her husband because he hot gotten locked up the night before after she had to call the cops because he was threatening her with a shotgun. She was real sorry, she said, he had only done that after she told him that the baby wasn't his, although that was a lie, she was just trying to make him mad, and the loony bin was only an hour drive away, could we stop for a bucket of chicken on the way, 'cause he really likes chicken...
I told her no, called my landlord and they were gone by the end of the month.
The fat white trash lady a building over used to let her daughters (ages 5 and 1) run around the parking lot as if it were their personal -and safe- backyard. I went to her door and informed her one day that her toddler was about to fall down the five foot concrete wall next to my apartment, and the five year old was wallowing in a oil slick filled puddle in the parking lot. She looked at me and said thanks, then walked back inside and closed the door, leaving the children where they were.
The Hispanic guy with the van lived there, too, and he spent every freaking weekend with his van parked in the middle, the MIDDLE, of the parking lot and blared Michael Jackson albums while he detailed his beloved van. I couldn't hear the TV inside, with the windows and doors closed, it was that loud. My boyfriend even turned his speakers to face out of the window and played the Weird Al covers of Michael Jackson songs, full blast, to see if he would get the hint but I don't think he even heard it, despite being fifty feet away.
The The Shitasticly Craptacular Dunghole From Hell has it's very own post, I need not even go into that one at all.
I've had neighbors that infested our entire building with cockroaches, drove me crazy, lit off fireworks in the hallway, showed me their ass, and would lock their four year old out on the second story deck when he misbehaved. Even in the winter. It was only for a minute or two, but we always knew because we could hear him screaming and banging on the glass door when they did it. I think most of the neighbors had called child services on them, repeatedly. I know I did.
My neighbors now are nothing like this very abridged list (oh, I could go on for some time, really) of horrible neighbors, but they still annoy the shit out of me. They aren't overtly stupid. They're more of a kind of sedated idiocy. It all started a while back with a bird seed that fell into his coffee. He asked us if we could move our bird feeders to the other end of the porch because they were overhanging his favorite place to sit and drink coffee. I explained that there was no where to hang them over there, but to be nice, I went to the hardware store and installed the feeders where he asked. Since then, he's whined about water dripping down, in his usual doofus-like manner.
And then he complained about the bird feeders again. To my husband. I happened to overhear the conversation because I was standing next to the window while they were outside, so when my husband came upstairs I was standing there twitching a little and said, "So. The birdfeeders. Huh? What's his problem? Now?" I was really pissed off. Sure enough, my husband confirmed my suspicions: the neighbor oaf wants us to move our birdfeeders again, away from the place that HE requested, after I spent money on hardware and time on moving them and reinstalling them elsewhere, now he doesn't like the place that he asked us to put them anymore. His stupid child is stepping in bird seeds. He wants us to put them so that they hang over the edge of the balcony instead, which I flat out refuse to do. Liability? Hello? No, dumb ass. I will NOT do that.
My husband looked at me, concerned. He knew I was about to burst. I sit here all day and listen to his daughter howling her fool head off, his dog howling relentlessly, his baby screaming, his TV blaring, his nasty food stinking up my apartment, and oh did I mention the trampoline? Here I thought his daughter was dashing back and forth wearing wooden clogs on the deck, because I could not possibly understand what else could make the racket that she does (and I know it's her because she screams like a banshee the whole time she's out there). No. I peeked through the slats one day and was absolutely dumbfounded to discover what it was that makes that noise. It's a small trampoline. Yes. They have a trampoline out on their second story deck, right on the outside corner where the only thing keeping their child from plummeting to her death is a normal height railing. And they let the child bounce up and down on it, screaming the whole time, which is usually a good thirty minutes or so. (Currently the baby is screeching inconsolably, and has been for the last ten minutes.) So there is their daughter, bouncing up and down on a metal footed trampoline, which smacks down on the wooden deck with each bounce, while screaming, and it's so loud and heavy that it actually rattles things in my apartment UPSTAIRS. Now I know why the people below them keep moving in and out. I can't even imagine what it sounds like downstairs. And this man has the balls to ask me to move my little old birdfeeders because his daughter is stepping in bird seeds? And apparently that is a problem, although worrying about her running barefoot on a wooden deck is not, nor is the danger of her jumping up and down next to a two story fall, and the NOISE that she makes is certainly not a problem at all, but some bird seed is something to complain about.
I can hear some of you asking, "Why don't you march on down there and complain to him about what HE does?" It's very simple: I know I live in an apartment. Shit happens. People are noisy. If they were having parties till 3 am, oh hell yes I would complain. I if I thought they were dealing drugs out of their apartment, I would complain. But obviously these are extremely noisy people who I very seriously doubt are going to suddenly become conscientious of the humans around them because one person pointed out what should be bloody fucking obvious. And once you start whining to your neighbors, the situation just becomes more and more tense, and you have to see these bastards every day. It only escalates until it becomes an all out war on who can annoy the other one into moving out first. I've seen it happen way too many times. We're hoping to move soon anyway. Maybe I'll come back the day we've got our stuff out and let them know what a total pain in the ass they truly are. Until then, I'm stuck with them.
Did I move the bird feeders? Hell no. I did go out and buy a cheap runner rug from Big Lots and threw that down on the deck beneath the bird feeders. Now the birds just pick the fallen seeds out of the carpet, and the neighbors can kiss my ass. I told my husband the other day, "I really want to slip little pieces of old fish down between the cracks one night, just cover their porch with it. When they come up to complain I'll just act like they're completely insane and say, 'Look, pal, I don't know how your porch got covered in fish and frankly, I don't want to know. That's fucking gross.' Then close the door in his stupid face while he ponders the next slow moving thought to enter his head." My husband actually started laughing and thought that would be really funny. Usually he's the type to give me a stern look and tell me not to do it, but I think he's so irritated he can't help but laugh.
It would serve them right. I would love to hear the scream of their little hellion when she runs out barefoot and steps into mashed up bits of smelly fish. The shitty part is that I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference in her screams. It's not like she can crank it up any higher.
Ah, well.
I had ones who lived below me and the guys who lived there would come out as soon as I pulled up, then watch me walk up the stairs and stand there looking up through the slats in the wooden deck trying to get a peek up my skirt. They did that until one of my very large and scary punk rock friends loudly announced that she was going to squat down and piss on the deck if those bastards downstairs didn't knock off the perv shit. They stopped. I used to hear what sounded frighteningly like gun shots from their apartment, and one night I missed the ultimate in hilarity when I got home and my boyfriend told me I had just missed the two brothers drunkenly fighting in the parking lot, when one took off his prosthetic leg and proceeded to bash the other one in the head with it.
That same apartment had the crazy white trash mom who came over to ask me one day if I would drive her to the loony bin to go visit her husband because he hot gotten locked up the night before after she had to call the cops because he was threatening her with a shotgun. She was real sorry, she said, he had only done that after she told him that the baby wasn't his, although that was a lie, she was just trying to make him mad, and the loony bin was only an hour drive away, could we stop for a bucket of chicken on the way, 'cause he really likes chicken...
I told her no, called my landlord and they were gone by the end of the month.
The fat white trash lady a building over used to let her daughters (ages 5 and 1) run around the parking lot as if it were their personal -and safe- backyard. I went to her door and informed her one day that her toddler was about to fall down the five foot concrete wall next to my apartment, and the five year old was wallowing in a oil slick filled puddle in the parking lot. She looked at me and said thanks, then walked back inside and closed the door, leaving the children where they were.
The Hispanic guy with the van lived there, too, and he spent every freaking weekend with his van parked in the middle, the MIDDLE, of the parking lot and blared Michael Jackson albums while he detailed his beloved van. I couldn't hear the TV inside, with the windows and doors closed, it was that loud. My boyfriend even turned his speakers to face out of the window and played the Weird Al covers of Michael Jackson songs, full blast, to see if he would get the hint but I don't think he even heard it, despite being fifty feet away.
The The Shitasticly Craptacular Dunghole From Hell has it's very own post, I need not even go into that one at all.
I've had neighbors that infested our entire building with cockroaches, drove me crazy, lit off fireworks in the hallway, showed me their ass, and would lock their four year old out on the second story deck when he misbehaved. Even in the winter. It was only for a minute or two, but we always knew because we could hear him screaming and banging on the glass door when they did it. I think most of the neighbors had called child services on them, repeatedly. I know I did.
My neighbors now are nothing like this very abridged list (oh, I could go on for some time, really) of horrible neighbors, but they still annoy the shit out of me. They aren't overtly stupid. They're more of a kind of sedated idiocy. It all started a while back with a bird seed that fell into his coffee. He asked us if we could move our bird feeders to the other end of the porch because they were overhanging his favorite place to sit and drink coffee. I explained that there was no where to hang them over there, but to be nice, I went to the hardware store and installed the feeders where he asked. Since then, he's whined about water dripping down, in his usual doofus-like manner.
And then he complained about the bird feeders again. To my husband. I happened to overhear the conversation because I was standing next to the window while they were outside, so when my husband came upstairs I was standing there twitching a little and said, "So. The birdfeeders. Huh? What's his problem? Now?" I was really pissed off. Sure enough, my husband confirmed my suspicions: the neighbor oaf wants us to move our birdfeeders again, away from the place that HE requested, after I spent money on hardware and time on moving them and reinstalling them elsewhere, now he doesn't like the place that he asked us to put them anymore. His stupid child is stepping in bird seeds. He wants us to put them so that they hang over the edge of the balcony instead, which I flat out refuse to do. Liability? Hello? No, dumb ass. I will NOT do that.
My husband looked at me, concerned. He knew I was about to burst. I sit here all day and listen to his daughter howling her fool head off, his dog howling relentlessly, his baby screaming, his TV blaring, his nasty food stinking up my apartment, and oh did I mention the trampoline? Here I thought his daughter was dashing back and forth wearing wooden clogs on the deck, because I could not possibly understand what else could make the racket that she does (and I know it's her because she screams like a banshee the whole time she's out there). No. I peeked through the slats one day and was absolutely dumbfounded to discover what it was that makes that noise. It's a small trampoline. Yes. They have a trampoline out on their second story deck, right on the outside corner where the only thing keeping their child from plummeting to her death is a normal height railing. And they let the child bounce up and down on it, screaming the whole time, which is usually a good thirty minutes or so. (Currently the baby is screeching inconsolably, and has been for the last ten minutes.) So there is their daughter, bouncing up and down on a metal footed trampoline, which smacks down on the wooden deck with each bounce, while screaming, and it's so loud and heavy that it actually rattles things in my apartment UPSTAIRS. Now I know why the people below them keep moving in and out. I can't even imagine what it sounds like downstairs. And this man has the balls to ask me to move my little old birdfeeders because his daughter is stepping in bird seeds? And apparently that is a problem, although worrying about her running barefoot on a wooden deck is not, nor is the danger of her jumping up and down next to a two story fall, and the NOISE that she makes is certainly not a problem at all, but some bird seed is something to complain about.
I can hear some of you asking, "Why don't you march on down there and complain to him about what HE does?" It's very simple: I know I live in an apartment. Shit happens. People are noisy. If they were having parties till 3 am, oh hell yes I would complain. I if I thought they were dealing drugs out of their apartment, I would complain. But obviously these are extremely noisy people who I very seriously doubt are going to suddenly become conscientious of the humans around them because one person pointed out what should be bloody fucking obvious. And once you start whining to your neighbors, the situation just becomes more and more tense, and you have to see these bastards every day. It only escalates until it becomes an all out war on who can annoy the other one into moving out first. I've seen it happen way too many times. We're hoping to move soon anyway. Maybe I'll come back the day we've got our stuff out and let them know what a total pain in the ass they truly are. Until then, I'm stuck with them.
Did I move the bird feeders? Hell no. I did go out and buy a cheap runner rug from Big Lots and threw that down on the deck beneath the bird feeders. Now the birds just pick the fallen seeds out of the carpet, and the neighbors can kiss my ass. I told my husband the other day, "I really want to slip little pieces of old fish down between the cracks one night, just cover their porch with it. When they come up to complain I'll just act like they're completely insane and say, 'Look, pal, I don't know how your porch got covered in fish and frankly, I don't want to know. That's fucking gross.' Then close the door in his stupid face while he ponders the next slow moving thought to enter his head." My husband actually started laughing and thought that would be really funny. Usually he's the type to give me a stern look and tell me not to do it, but I think he's so irritated he can't help but laugh.
It would serve them right. I would love to hear the scream of their little hellion when she runs out barefoot and steps into mashed up bits of smelly fish. The shitty part is that I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference in her screams. It's not like she can crank it up any higher.
Ah, well.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Monday, April 02, 2007
dress yourself in irony
I'm guessing that the makers of these strange arm thingies never actually READ the book that Dr. Seuss wrote, or they would know that there is no such thing as the Martian Sneech Patrol, nor do they realize that even the Sneeches know that it does not matter if one has stars upon thars.
The book is about judging people and being superficial. Duh. I think they need a visit from Mr. Sylvester McMonkey McBean.
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