My son is on a mission to make me crazy. I was attempting to be a GM this afternoon and play games with my kids. We were deeply involved in a game of Scooby Doo when C. decided that he didn't want to play anymore. Fine, he wasn't really playing anyway. So he took his pieces and walked out of the room.
A. and I finished the game and were putting the pieces away and I called to C. to give me his pieces. He runs under the desk and says, "Here they are." I walk over to find him with empty hands. Haha! "Where are the pieces?" He runs over to the cupboard. "Here they are." I walk over to find empty hands. Ha friggin ha. "Where are the pieces?" He runs into the family room and opens the cabinet. "Here they are." You know how this goes.
Finally I am MAD!!! I put him in time out. He sits. I take his toys. He sits. He watches me look all over the friggin place for these pieces.
"WHERE ARE THE PIECES!!!" I scream
"They're in the box."
I open the box and there they are.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Lunch Time at the School House
It is Catholic School's week this week. Growing up in a Catholic school, I have many memories of this week. We had to be thankful for our school a lot. We made ugly Kleenex Mums for Moms. (Mine always looked like I wadded up a bunch of Kleenex and stuck them on a piece of paper. Never the Artist) We had Donuts for Dads, which ALWAYS totally sucked. My dad worked at a school 50 minutes away, so we had to get up and get to school REALLY EARLY. He'd eat a donut and then leave. We would be with the kids whose dads didn't come and have to sit and watch all the happy families. In hindsight, we probably sat for like twenty minutes but for a little kid, it seemed like FOREVER.
Today was A.'s family day. We had an indoor picnic. I read the little flier and thought I had everything covered. J. took off to come, my friend picked up C. after school so I didn't have to leave early, ordered food from a restaurant. I even took a shower, put on decent clothes and did not smell like smoke. I arrived on time and began to walk towards the school, carrying lunches and our blanket. Of course, I forgot about the blanket until I got there and saw all the GM's carrying friggin picnic baskets and red checkered "picnic blankets". Luckily I remembered that we always have a blanket in the back of the car. ( I keep it in case the car is stranded in the middle of a blizzard and I don't have cell service and the Chester Cheetah blanket becomes our only means of staying warm and not dying a slow painful death where all our limbs fall off one at time and all that is left is frostbitten nubs of what we once were. I have a plan for everything)
Anyhoo, I carry our goodies into the building. I forgot to mention that I even Febreezed (a new verb) my coat so I smelled like flowers instead of a bar. J. was there. We wandered into the cafeteria, glancing around for a place to sit. All the other families were co-mingling and talking. They bunched up next to each other. Finally we found a spot. I unwrapped my blanket only to discover to my horror that the blanket was COVERED in dog hair and other crusty particles. I found myself in a pickle. Do we sit on the linoleum and pretend we "forgot" our blanket or do we spread our disease and filth for all to see? For those of you who know me, know that I would rather be perceived as stupid than filthy. I discreetly placed the blanket under my coat on a chair. J. suggested I got outside and shake it out. No amount of shaking was gonna get this thing clean. I suddenly wished for a rock and washboard.
As we were standing, looking around at the other families, a popular family arrived and started to put down their blanket and wooden picnic basket in OUR place. It was as if we were NOT even standing there. OOH NO! YOU BETTER BACK IT UP SISTER! I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! Here's how it went:
Bitch: " Umm, are you sitting here?" ( No, whore we're just standing in the middle of the room staring at each other CUZ WE CRAZY!!!)
Me: (smiling that really fake smile you know I have) Yes, we are.
Bitch: (LOOKED ME UP AN DOWN and then gave that smirk) Oh, sorry we didn't see you there.
Me: DIDN'T SEE ME! DIDN'T SEE ME! DO YOU SEE ME NOW?! (this is the part when I get in her grill and start smacking her)
Okay the real me: (smiling still) Oh, that's okay we haven't set up yet.
How the hell can she say" she didn't see us". J. is only like 7 foot tall and I looked pissed all the time. At least she could have thought, "Who's that bitch with the giant?"
Anyhoo, we are the ONLY people with no blanket. Okay, no bigggie. Then everyone starts breaking out games to play. Card games, cute little word games, all that shit. THEN comes the brownies. Of course, we have no games and no brownies. There we are, the bitch, the giant and the little girl, sitting on cold linoleum looking at each other, pretending we are enjoying ourselves. We eat really fast in our family, so our picnic took about 5 minutes. Everyone else took 45.
Eventually J. had to go back to work, so it was just me and A. I tried to look like a GM, teaching her patty cake games of my youth, only to find myself getting really frustrated because she wanted to go hang out with other kids' families. NO WAY!!! WE ARE GOING TO LOOK LIKE A HAPPY FAMILY IF IT KILLS YOU!!
Finally it was over and I could wipe that silly smile off my face and take my voice down an octave. I walked out into the cold and almost got hit by a car. Maybe I really am invisible...
Today was A.'s family day. We had an indoor picnic. I read the little flier and thought I had everything covered. J. took off to come, my friend picked up C. after school so I didn't have to leave early, ordered food from a restaurant. I even took a shower, put on decent clothes and did not smell like smoke. I arrived on time and began to walk towards the school, carrying lunches and our blanket. Of course, I forgot about the blanket until I got there and saw all the GM's carrying friggin picnic baskets and red checkered "picnic blankets". Luckily I remembered that we always have a blanket in the back of the car. ( I keep it in case the car is stranded in the middle of a blizzard and I don't have cell service and the Chester Cheetah blanket becomes our only means of staying warm and not dying a slow painful death where all our limbs fall off one at time and all that is left is frostbitten nubs of what we once were. I have a plan for everything)
Anyhoo, I carry our goodies into the building. I forgot to mention that I even Febreezed (a new verb) my coat so I smelled like flowers instead of a bar. J. was there. We wandered into the cafeteria, glancing around for a place to sit. All the other families were co-mingling and talking. They bunched up next to each other. Finally we found a spot. I unwrapped my blanket only to discover to my horror that the blanket was COVERED in dog hair and other crusty particles. I found myself in a pickle. Do we sit on the linoleum and pretend we "forgot" our blanket or do we spread our disease and filth for all to see? For those of you who know me, know that I would rather be perceived as stupid than filthy. I discreetly placed the blanket under my coat on a chair. J. suggested I got outside and shake it out. No amount of shaking was gonna get this thing clean. I suddenly wished for a rock and washboard.
As we were standing, looking around at the other families, a popular family arrived and started to put down their blanket and wooden picnic basket in OUR place. It was as if we were NOT even standing there. OOH NO! YOU BETTER BACK IT UP SISTER! I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! Here's how it went:
Bitch: " Umm, are you sitting here?" ( No, whore we're just standing in the middle of the room staring at each other CUZ WE CRAZY!!!)
Me: (smiling that really fake smile you know I have) Yes, we are.
Bitch: (LOOKED ME UP AN DOWN and then gave that smirk) Oh, sorry we didn't see you there.
Me: DIDN'T SEE ME! DIDN'T SEE ME! DO YOU SEE ME NOW?! (this is the part when I get in her grill and start smacking her)
Okay the real me: (smiling still) Oh, that's okay we haven't set up yet.
How the hell can she say" she didn't see us". J. is only like 7 foot tall and I looked pissed all the time. At least she could have thought, "Who's that bitch with the giant?"
Anyhoo, we are the ONLY people with no blanket. Okay, no bigggie. Then everyone starts breaking out games to play. Card games, cute little word games, all that shit. THEN comes the brownies. Of course, we have no games and no brownies. There we are, the bitch, the giant and the little girl, sitting on cold linoleum looking at each other, pretending we are enjoying ourselves. We eat really fast in our family, so our picnic took about 5 minutes. Everyone else took 45.
Eventually J. had to go back to work, so it was just me and A. I tried to look like a GM, teaching her patty cake games of my youth, only to find myself getting really frustrated because she wanted to go hang out with other kids' families. NO WAY!!! WE ARE GOING TO LOOK LIKE A HAPPY FAMILY IF IT KILLS YOU!!
Finally it was over and I could wipe that silly smile off my face and take my voice down an octave. I walked out into the cold and almost got hit by a car. Maybe I really am invisible...
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Addendum
I need to add some words to the offensive word list:
kweef
raw (as in rubbed, dangling flesh)
flesh
frock
cornucopia
Please continue to suggest new and offensive words.
kweef
raw (as in rubbed, dangling flesh)
flesh
frock
cornucopia
Please continue to suggest new and offensive words.
Mrs. Wiggins
Yesterday was a long day. Not because of any of the usual strife, rather because both my back and feet were killing me. At one point in the morning I had to dash (ok, hobble) to Walgreens to get a wrap for my back. Luckily there was no one in the parking lot when I had to unzip my pants to put the wrap on. Because I am paranoid, I am still awaiting a call from the police about exposing myself in public. You know they have video cameras in the parking lot. Watch for me, I'll be on the news.
Anyhoo, I have a pair of black pumps that I love (or used to love). They're Flopsy shoes. You know the ones, pointy and fancy. Well apparently they are two hour shoes. Unfortunately I was not aware of that when I put them on for my eight hour day. Now granted I'm not walking around all day, I sit a lot. However, the bathroom and the vending machine with my Hostess Cherry Pies are all the way on the other side of the building. By about 3:00 my feet were "rubbed raw" (another word that I hate that MUST be added to the list). Since I work in a hospital you would think that there would be Band-Aids. NOPE!! It was very difficult to maintain professionalism (and pay attention, which is hard for me anyway) when all I could think about were my feet.
Eventually the shoes came off. I had no more clients to see and was busy doing paperwork. My colleague, an older woman, came in to gossip with me. We were discussing the changes in the clinic and she stated," We need to stop prostituting ourselves for this hospital. I mean I could make so much more money prostituting in other ways." With this she laughed, threw herself onto the couch (yes, we have a couch) spread her legs and said, "You know, COME ON SAILOR SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!!!" ( BLECHHH!! was all I could think. I didn't need that. Wasn't my day bad enough with physical pain, did I really need emotional pain too? Have mercy on me.) She got up and walked out.
It was then time to leave. I had had enough. Unfortunately I had to put those damn shoes back on. It is always worse to have to put them back on. I winced in pain and began my long trek to the car. I had thoughts that maybe I should just take my shoes off and walk bare footed to the car. The ground was VERY cold and I would have to risk foot cramps. I envisioned walking in the parking lot, being overcome by intense foot cramps, spazzing my back and falling to the ground only to be run over by a large truck. I just couldn't risk it.
I put my shoes on and hobbled outside. I glanced at my reflection in the window. There I saw Mrs. Wiggins (from the Tim Conway show).
Anyhoo, I have a pair of black pumps that I love (or used to love). They're Flopsy shoes. You know the ones, pointy and fancy. Well apparently they are two hour shoes. Unfortunately I was not aware of that when I put them on for my eight hour day. Now granted I'm not walking around all day, I sit a lot. However, the bathroom and the vending machine with my Hostess Cherry Pies are all the way on the other side of the building. By about 3:00 my feet were "rubbed raw" (another word that I hate that MUST be added to the list). Since I work in a hospital you would think that there would be Band-Aids. NOPE!! It was very difficult to maintain professionalism (and pay attention, which is hard for me anyway) when all I could think about were my feet.
Eventually the shoes came off. I had no more clients to see and was busy doing paperwork. My colleague, an older woman, came in to gossip with me. We were discussing the changes in the clinic and she stated," We need to stop prostituting ourselves for this hospital. I mean I could make so much more money prostituting in other ways." With this she laughed, threw herself onto the couch (yes, we have a couch) spread her legs and said, "You know, COME ON SAILOR SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!!!" ( BLECHHH!! was all I could think. I didn't need that. Wasn't my day bad enough with physical pain, did I really need emotional pain too? Have mercy on me.) She got up and walked out.
It was then time to leave. I had had enough. Unfortunately I had to put those damn shoes back on. It is always worse to have to put them back on. I winced in pain and began my long trek to the car. I had thoughts that maybe I should just take my shoes off and walk bare footed to the car. The ground was VERY cold and I would have to risk foot cramps. I envisioned walking in the parking lot, being overcome by intense foot cramps, spazzing my back and falling to the ground only to be run over by a large truck. I just couldn't risk it.
I put my shoes on and hobbled outside. I glanced at my reflection in the window. There I saw Mrs. Wiggins (from the Tim Conway show).
Sunday, January 28, 2007
How well do you know your spouse?
J. and I went out last night. Just the two of us. It was really nice. Granted, due to my backache I was a little (ok, a lot) crabby. I eventually drank enough to take the edge off. Well, I learned something new about my husband last night. I was really surprised.
Things that I know about my husband:
He only wears Stan Smith sneakers.
He his favorite writer is Tom Robbins.
He likes stupid movies like Caddyshack and Blazing Saddles.
He believes that Jim Morrison is still alive.
He hates the song, "I want you to want me" by Cheap Trick
He can't stand when I stack books on the desk, because he can't see the answering machine.
He is scared that I may have to drive his car again.
He wears a mouth guard at night to keep from grinding his teeth.
He has sleep jerks.
He sometimes wears clothes that don't match very well.
What I learned about my husband last night is that he often has violent feelings towards people with stinky breath. He explained to me how he feels it is a purposeful attack when someone has bad breath and they don't try to fix it. "HOW DO THEY NOT KNOW?!! THE WHOLE OFFICE SMELLS LIKE ASS!! It really makes me mad. I feel my fists balling up, you know what I mean?"
I started laughing so hard. My husband is not quick to anger, so to see such rage against someone with a medical condition, chronic halitosis, seemed a little silly. He thinks he's more susceptible to the smells because he has such a big nose.
Things that I know about my husband:
He only wears Stan Smith sneakers.
He his favorite writer is Tom Robbins.
He likes stupid movies like Caddyshack and Blazing Saddles.
He believes that Jim Morrison is still alive.
He hates the song, "I want you to want me" by Cheap Trick
He can't stand when I stack books on the desk, because he can't see the answering machine.
He is scared that I may have to drive his car again.
He wears a mouth guard at night to keep from grinding his teeth.
He has sleep jerks.
He sometimes wears clothes that don't match very well.
What I learned about my husband last night is that he often has violent feelings towards people with stinky breath. He explained to me how he feels it is a purposeful attack when someone has bad breath and they don't try to fix it. "HOW DO THEY NOT KNOW?!! THE WHOLE OFFICE SMELLS LIKE ASS!! It really makes me mad. I feel my fists balling up, you know what I mean?"
I started laughing so hard. My husband is not quick to anger, so to see such rage against someone with a medical condition, chronic halitosis, seemed a little silly. He thinks he's more susceptible to the smells because he has such a big nose.
Back Breaking Work
I hurt my back this weekend. If you have ever hurt your back you know that the pain can be unbearable. It has been spazzing on and off and the only thing that helps is the heating pad.
"How did you hurt your back?"is what you are supposed to be thinking. Well, I'll tell you. It started Friday AM. I was put in charge of loading and distributing food to the poor. So, I loaded up my SUV, with all types of food and blankets and went out into the day. I had done this in a previous life and loved it. I was much younger then. Well, after a morning of providing acts of kindness, it was off to the gym. I worked out for at least an hour. Then, it was time for the housework. A clean house is a happy house. I did the laundry, washed all the floors, scrubbed the bathrooms.
Finally it was time to pick up the kids. I met each child with a swirling hug. I was SO happy to see them I could hardly contain my enthusiasm. We returned home and I prepared a fabulous, healthy meal. I was working on some new recipes, so I was standing for quite some time.
At the end of the day I was very tired and collapsed from exhaustion at about 8:00. I awoke the next morning with the intention of fixing breakfast for my family, but my back was hurting so bad. It could have been any of my many activities the previous day. I soldiered on, without complaint. We have plans to go bowling today as a family. Nothing can spoil that.
So, by now you have realized that I wish this was how I hurt my back. Instead, I hurt my back watching TV.
"How did you hurt your back?"is what you are supposed to be thinking. Well, I'll tell you. It started Friday AM. I was put in charge of loading and distributing food to the poor. So, I loaded up my SUV, with all types of food and blankets and went out into the day. I had done this in a previous life and loved it. I was much younger then. Well, after a morning of providing acts of kindness, it was off to the gym. I worked out for at least an hour. Then, it was time for the housework. A clean house is a happy house. I did the laundry, washed all the floors, scrubbed the bathrooms.
Finally it was time to pick up the kids. I met each child with a swirling hug. I was SO happy to see them I could hardly contain my enthusiasm. We returned home and I prepared a fabulous, healthy meal. I was working on some new recipes, so I was standing for quite some time.
At the end of the day I was very tired and collapsed from exhaustion at about 8:00. I awoke the next morning with the intention of fixing breakfast for my family, but my back was hurting so bad. It could have been any of my many activities the previous day. I soldiered on, without complaint. We have plans to go bowling today as a family. Nothing can spoil that.
So, by now you have realized that I wish this was how I hurt my back. Instead, I hurt my back watching TV.
The Nose Bleed Section
A scream tore through the night like a knife in my heart. I raced to the bathroom to find my six year old COVERED in blood. What is happening? How did you get hurt? She is crying and screaming," MY NOSE IS BLEEDING, MY NOSE IS BLEEDING!!!"
I grabbed the tissues and attempted to stop the gushes of blood and calm her. It was the middle of the night and I was a little disoriented. "How did this happen?" I asked her. I am of course thinking the worst, maybe a brain tumor. "I was picking my nose." she cried.
WHAT IS IT WITH MY KIDS AND BOOGERS!!!! Eventually the bleeding stopped. In exasperation I asked A. ,"WILL YOU PLEASE STOP PICKING YOUR NOSE!?!" She looked up at me, "Why?"
I grabbed the tissues and attempted to stop the gushes of blood and calm her. It was the middle of the night and I was a little disoriented. "How did this happen?" I asked her. I am of course thinking the worst, maybe a brain tumor. "I was picking my nose." she cried.
WHAT IS IT WITH MY KIDS AND BOOGERS!!!! Eventually the bleeding stopped. In exasperation I asked A. ,"WILL YOU PLEASE STOP PICKING YOUR NOSE!?!" She looked up at me, "Why?"
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Playdate
I am attempting to be a good mom today. So far, not so great. I am babysitting the Nice Mommy's daughter, while she attends our other children's field trip. I picked C. and N. up from school on time. (Good job) I walked them home since N. didn't have a car seat (Good job). I crossed at the crosswalk to ensure the safety of this child. (Good job). I made lunch. (Good job). I encouraged them both to use the potty. (Good job).
Now here's where I fall. I didn't make them eat all their sandwich before I gave them candy, they watched an hour of TV and I let them have matches. (ok, not really) I think Mommy is a "no TV" Mommy. She's also a no sweets Mommy. I'm SURE she's a NO fire Mommy too. I did not interact any more than I had to and spent most of the time watching the clock til the Mommy came. Hopefully after she hears what an irresponsible parent I am she won't ask me again. Here's hoping.
Now here's where I fall. I didn't make them eat all their sandwich before I gave them candy, they watched an hour of TV and I let them have matches. (ok, not really) I think Mommy is a "no TV" Mommy. She's also a no sweets Mommy. I'm SURE she's a NO fire Mommy too. I did not interact any more than I had to and spent most of the time watching the clock til the Mommy came. Hopefully after she hears what an irresponsible parent I am she won't ask me again. Here's hoping.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Offensive Words
There are words in the English language that are just offensive to the ear. I have comprised a list of such words. It is not necessarily the meanings that are offensive as it is the way the word sounds.
My personal favorites:
moist
ball sack
panties (or pannies)
nipple
tiddies (or titties depending on what part of the US you are from)
supple
chunky (used when referring to a haircut or shoes. Not bad when talking about peanut butter)
secretion
rectal
porking
wart
brassiere
pubic
salami
"making love"
pussy
rug munching
Some favorites of friends:
going to the "grocery"
pocketbook
slacks
sneakers
underpants (a personal favorite word of mine, but you know some people)
pizzeria (because it sounds like diarrhea)
doinking
welts
The lists are not exhaustive and I will continue to add to the list as new words make me cringe. This list does not consist of the words that I have a difficult time saying because they make me blush...
My personal favorites:
moist
ball sack
panties (or pannies)
nipple
tiddies (or titties depending on what part of the US you are from)
supple
chunky (used when referring to a haircut or shoes. Not bad when talking about peanut butter)
secretion
rectal
porking
wart
brassiere
pubic
salami
"making love"
pussy
rug munching
Some favorites of friends:
going to the "grocery"
pocketbook
slacks
sneakers
underpants (a personal favorite word of mine, but you know some people)
pizzeria (because it sounds like diarrhea)
doinking
welts
The lists are not exhaustive and I will continue to add to the list as new words make me cringe. This list does not consist of the words that I have a difficult time saying because they make me blush...
Sex and the ugly person
I realize that everyone, no matter how unattractive, is having sex. You can tell by the number of ugly people in the world that they seem to have a lot more than the average person. As a therapist I listen to a lot of stories about a lot of things. It never ceases to amaze and sicken me the amount of sex I have to hear about. I know, I know, I'm supposed to be caring and that sex is a part of life. BUT COME ON, we all have our limits. I am getting much better at disguising my "I smell poop" face when this is the topic of conversation, but yesterday my limits were pushed.
Session with Client A:
A: Do you think I am fat?
S: (yup) How do you feel about your weight?
A: (LIFTING UP HER SHIRT, NOT ONCE BUT THREE TIMES TO PROVE TO ME THAT SHE IS FAT) I think I'm fat and my boyfriend thinks I am fat.
S: (Swallowing my vomit and rubbing my eyes--they're kinda burning) Does he tell you that he thinks you're fat?
A: (This is when she lifts her shirt the second time) Well, while we are having sex he grabs my belly. I mean I never tell him he has gross teeth.
S: (Deep breath, stop the visualization it will only cause nightmares)
A: Another thing is that I think he's been ya know, messed with.
S: Why is that? (don't wanna know, don't wanna know)
A: He's not very sexual. He's never gone "down there". (She then sticks her tongue out) I'm clean down there. He also doesn't like when I put my face in his crotch. What do you think? Do you think he's been messed with?
S: (Trying NOT to bug my eyes out. I just know that my ears are bleeding. My stomach is churning. I HAVE TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT!!!) Well, Client A, I think that people just have different comfort levels with sexual activity and perhaps you are not compatible. I don't think it means that he has been abused.
A: Well I guess maybe I'm just a little freaky in the bed.
S:(Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything) I think that maybe you just have different ideas. Maybe that is something you can work on together.
A: So, you don't think it's because I'm fat (UP GOES THE SHIRT AGAIN!!)
S: I don't believe that would be the case.
FINALLY the session was over and I felt like washing my ears and eyes out with acid.
Then comes Client B:
Client B: How do you tell someone that they smell like, you know, Number 2?
S: Pardon me?
B: I work with this guy who smells like he is leaking. You know, like when you have to go Number 2 but you don't and you just leak.
S: ( No actually I don't.) Well, I guess it would probably be best to pull him aside and let him know that he does not smell very good. Try not to embarrass him.
B: I kinda told him that.
S: What did you say?
B: I told him to go take a shit.
So, my friends, how was your day?
Session with Client A:
A: Do you think I am fat?
S: (yup) How do you feel about your weight?
A: (LIFTING UP HER SHIRT, NOT ONCE BUT THREE TIMES TO PROVE TO ME THAT SHE IS FAT) I think I'm fat and my boyfriend thinks I am fat.
S: (Swallowing my vomit and rubbing my eyes--they're kinda burning) Does he tell you that he thinks you're fat?
A: (This is when she lifts her shirt the second time) Well, while we are having sex he grabs my belly. I mean I never tell him he has gross teeth.
S: (Deep breath, stop the visualization it will only cause nightmares)
A: Another thing is that I think he's been ya know, messed with.
S: Why is that? (don't wanna know, don't wanna know)
A: He's not very sexual. He's never gone "down there". (She then sticks her tongue out) I'm clean down there. He also doesn't like when I put my face in his crotch. What do you think? Do you think he's been messed with?
S: (Trying NOT to bug my eyes out. I just know that my ears are bleeding. My stomach is churning. I HAVE TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT!!!) Well, Client A, I think that people just have different comfort levels with sexual activity and perhaps you are not compatible. I don't think it means that he has been abused.
A: Well I guess maybe I'm just a little freaky in the bed.
S:(Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything) I think that maybe you just have different ideas. Maybe that is something you can work on together.
A: So, you don't think it's because I'm fat (UP GOES THE SHIRT AGAIN!!)
S: I don't believe that would be the case.
FINALLY the session was over and I felt like washing my ears and eyes out with acid.
Then comes Client B:
Client B: How do you tell someone that they smell like, you know, Number 2?
S: Pardon me?
B: I work with this guy who smells like he is leaking. You know, like when you have to go Number 2 but you don't and you just leak.
S: ( No actually I don't.) Well, I guess it would probably be best to pull him aside and let him know that he does not smell very good. Try not to embarrass him.
B: I kinda told him that.
S: What did you say?
B: I told him to go take a shit.
So, my friends, how was your day?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Book Club
About nine years ago four of my friends and I got together and formed a book club. (Oprah had just started doing this and we are her disciples) Our first book was John Irving and it was held at my house on a week night. I provided the snacks and one bottle of wine to share amongst the five. I actually created discussion questions (DORK) to help keep things moving in the right direction.
Since then it has progressed to more of a wine club than a book club, we have to meet on the weekends because we were all getting too drunk to get up for work the next day, have added a member and are lucky if we discuss the book for more than about ten minutes. We had book club last night and I just had a couple of thoughts about these ladies.
Cast of Characters:
Nipsy- Earned her nickname by exposing her nipples on a regular basis while in Mexico. ( Also have photos from New Orleans with her nipples illuminated which is why Nipsy won out over Crotchy) Nipsy is the BEST storyteller. She can make a story about her trip to the grocery store pee your pants (which I have done in her bathroom at an infamous book club). She's that friend who you call when you want to be supported in your righteous indignation. She's got your back. She's also the one you call when you want to have the right words to curse someone out. The biggest issue I have with Nipsy is that she often uses words that I don't know and she reads WAY more books than I do. Thank you Sista!
Pepper- Earned her nickname in Mexico as well. She looked like a wet puppy, doggie paddling. She's my conscience and my therapist. I screw up ALOT and in a very kind way she tells me what I already know, I f*cked up. She also gives me parenting tips. She tells me my kids are OK and not headed for the mental hospital. She suggested a couple of books to me, Hands are not for Hitting, Teeth are not for Biting, etc. I hope maybe she'll just get me the whole series for my next birthday. I need to ask her if they have a book called Boogers are not for Eating. She has an infectious laugh and laughs at me when I'm trying to be funny. The biggest issue I have with Pepper is that she is the world's slowest driver. THE SPEED LIMIT IS 60!!!!
Flopsy- Earned her nickname in Mexico. I shared the bed with her on both of our trips. I let her know that pajamas WERE NOT OPTIONAL!! I cannot take the chance of being in the bed with a naked person...there could be a fire. Flopsy earned her name, not because of her boobs but because every time she turned in bed she bounced so hard I almost fell on the floor. Flopsy is out book club Fashionista. She looks good and has wonderful taste. She took over decorating my house once my gay friend moved to Seattle (hey Lammy!). What I love about her is that no matter if I opened a credit card and charged a bunch of stuff and got busted, she will tell me that it wasn't $1000 and I probably needed the stuff anyway. I LOVE THAT!!! I go to her when I need someone to tell me, "Ahh, you can quit smoking another day, " or" you work hard, you deserve it". My cheerleader. Everyone should have one. The biggest issue I have with Flopsy is that she always looks better than I do but will never tell me,"Girl, don't wear that!"
The other two members of the book club were not on our trip to Mexico, so I had to come up with appropriate codenames on the spot.
Huggie Bear:
This is an odd choice of a name. She always hugs me and makes me hug her back. I really don't like to be hugged. Even when I'm really sad, I don't like to be hugged. I also don't like to say the word vagina and she makes me say it. She's good for me. The thing I love most about her is that she is probably the most tolerant and soft hearted person I know. She forgives and moves on and she knows when to let things drop. The thing that drives me the craziest about her is that she hugs me. (she tells me to get over it)
Tootie: Last but not least, our newest addition to the book club. I must admit that when she asked to join our group I had some reservations about my worlds colliding, but since she's been a part of the group it's like she's never not been. I think this is good name because she reports to us that she has never farted in front of her husband. They have been married for quite some time, so you know this girl's belly is HURTIN!!! I can only imagine when she lets loose. My favorite thing about her is that she tells me when I am being a brat or a winebag or a bitch or all of the above. And she isn't nice about it. She whoops my ass when I need an ass whoopin. Everyone needs someone like that. The best part is that we are related by marriage and she can't get away from me until J. does. The thing that drives me the craziest about her is that she smokes, shops, drinks and gossips the same way I do. She is not a good influence...
All in all these women give me what I need to get through life. I feel that we know way too much about each other(blackmail possibilities) to stop being friends. Thanks for being essential in my life. I must be PMSing to be so sentimental.
Love you guys,
Sister Dorothea
Since then it has progressed to more of a wine club than a book club, we have to meet on the weekends because we were all getting too drunk to get up for work the next day, have added a member and are lucky if we discuss the book for more than about ten minutes. We had book club last night and I just had a couple of thoughts about these ladies.
Cast of Characters:
Nipsy- Earned her nickname by exposing her nipples on a regular basis while in Mexico. ( Also have photos from New Orleans with her nipples illuminated which is why Nipsy won out over Crotchy) Nipsy is the BEST storyteller. She can make a story about her trip to the grocery store pee your pants (which I have done in her bathroom at an infamous book club). She's that friend who you call when you want to be supported in your righteous indignation. She's got your back. She's also the one you call when you want to have the right words to curse someone out. The biggest issue I have with Nipsy is that she often uses words that I don't know and she reads WAY more books than I do. Thank you Sista!
Pepper- Earned her nickname in Mexico as well. She looked like a wet puppy, doggie paddling. She's my conscience and my therapist. I screw up ALOT and in a very kind way she tells me what I already know, I f*cked up. She also gives me parenting tips. She tells me my kids are OK and not headed for the mental hospital. She suggested a couple of books to me, Hands are not for Hitting, Teeth are not for Biting, etc. I hope maybe she'll just get me the whole series for my next birthday. I need to ask her if they have a book called Boogers are not for Eating. She has an infectious laugh and laughs at me when I'm trying to be funny. The biggest issue I have with Pepper is that she is the world's slowest driver. THE SPEED LIMIT IS 60!!!!
Flopsy- Earned her nickname in Mexico. I shared the bed with her on both of our trips. I let her know that pajamas WERE NOT OPTIONAL!! I cannot take the chance of being in the bed with a naked person...there could be a fire. Flopsy earned her name, not because of her boobs but because every time she turned in bed she bounced so hard I almost fell on the floor. Flopsy is out book club Fashionista. She looks good and has wonderful taste. She took over decorating my house once my gay friend moved to Seattle (hey Lammy!). What I love about her is that no matter if I opened a credit card and charged a bunch of stuff and got busted, she will tell me that it wasn't $1000 and I probably needed the stuff anyway. I LOVE THAT!!! I go to her when I need someone to tell me, "Ahh, you can quit smoking another day, " or" you work hard, you deserve it". My cheerleader. Everyone should have one. The biggest issue I have with Flopsy is that she always looks better than I do but will never tell me,"Girl, don't wear that!"
The other two members of the book club were not on our trip to Mexico, so I had to come up with appropriate codenames on the spot.
Huggie Bear:
This is an odd choice of a name. She always hugs me and makes me hug her back. I really don't like to be hugged. Even when I'm really sad, I don't like to be hugged. I also don't like to say the word vagina and she makes me say it. She's good for me. The thing I love most about her is that she is probably the most tolerant and soft hearted person I know. She forgives and moves on and she knows when to let things drop. The thing that drives me the craziest about her is that she hugs me. (she tells me to get over it)
Tootie: Last but not least, our newest addition to the book club. I must admit that when she asked to join our group I had some reservations about my worlds colliding, but since she's been a part of the group it's like she's never not been. I think this is good name because she reports to us that she has never farted in front of her husband. They have been married for quite some time, so you know this girl's belly is HURTIN!!! I can only imagine when she lets loose. My favorite thing about her is that she tells me when I am being a brat or a winebag or a bitch or all of the above. And she isn't nice about it. She whoops my ass when I need an ass whoopin. Everyone needs someone like that. The best part is that we are related by marriage and she can't get away from me until J. does. The thing that drives me the craziest about her is that she smokes, shops, drinks and gossips the same way I do. She is not a good influence...
All in all these women give me what I need to get through life. I feel that we know way too much about each other(blackmail possibilities) to stop being friends. Thanks for being essential in my life. I must be PMSing to be so sentimental.
Love you guys,
Sister Dorothea
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Mixed Messages
I just finished my last post and started to view other blogs. Oddly enough the first blog I came upon was titled HOW TO QUIT SMOKING! Is that the universe talking to me? I am so confused. Who do I listen to, Oprah or The Universe? I'm in quite a pickle. I better smoke on it.
A sign from Oprah
I have to keep smoking. I went online to try to get Oprah to help me quit smoking but the post was gone. I guess it's a sign that it's not time. Thank you Oprah!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
McGruff the Crime Dog
I made the neighborhood safe for all this afternoon. There was a strange man walking around the neighborhood today. He came to the door and rang the bell. This time I did not open the door and give him $5 to go away. Instead I waited til he left and followed him in my car. He went from house to house, looking in windows and scoping out backyards.
With Elmo singing on the radio and my three year old in the backseat we followed at a safe distance and watched. He was up to no good, I just knew it. I called the police and gave an accurate description of the perp and his exact location. Unfortunately as I was doing this, he spotted me. (Not hard when you drive an enormous white SUV and are driving 2 miles an hour, talking on the phone and glaring out the window).
The police said they would send someone out to investigate. I had done my duty. Then I got to thinking. He knows where I live. He came to my house and saw my car parked in front. Then he saw me stalking him. I'm a goner.
I had an idea! It was then my daughter asked me why we were parking in front of my neighbor's house.
With Elmo singing on the radio and my three year old in the backseat we followed at a safe distance and watched. He was up to no good, I just knew it. I called the police and gave an accurate description of the perp and his exact location. Unfortunately as I was doing this, he spotted me. (Not hard when you drive an enormous white SUV and are driving 2 miles an hour, talking on the phone and glaring out the window).
The police said they would send someone out to investigate. I had done my duty. Then I got to thinking. He knows where I live. He came to my house and saw my car parked in front. Then he saw me stalking him. I'm a goner.
I had an idea! It was then my daughter asked me why we were parking in front of my neighbor's house.
My Love Affair
On my 17th birthday my love affair began. I was driving in the car with my best friend when she pulled from her purse a Virginia Slim Menthol cigarette. She lit up and glanced over at me. My mouth hung open. She offered me a drag. I said yes. The rest is history.
I was hooked. Now 18 years (I can't friggin believe it's been 18 years) later, I am still smoking. I love to smoke. I will admit that. There is really nothing about smoking that is detestable to me (other than lung cancer). I hear other people say that they hate the way it smells or tastes or whatever. I cannot relate.
The reason I am bringing this up is that it is time for me to quit, yet again. I always promised myself that I would quit once my children were old enough to know what I was doing. A. knows. She told me," Smoking kills." CRAP!! What are they teaching those kids in school these days. Why don't you say a rosary or something and leave the vices of your mother alone.
I have tried many times to quit. I have taken Wellbutrin (J. asked me to start smoking again), hypnosis, ear shocks and cold turkey. The only thing that seemed to work was getting pregnant. Since we have established that there will be no more children, I have to figure out another way.
So, here's my solution. I am addicted to Oprah and have been attempting to get on her show for years (giggle, giggle D. Yes, I remember the When We Were the Mulvaneys debacle). Anyhoo, I digress. There is a show coming up about quitting smoking and I am thinking of sending in a plea for help. I don't know why I have this insatiable need for attention, but I think that if Oprah can build a school in South Africa she can help me quit smoking. She's a friggin miracle worker.
Whether that works or not I know I gotta quit. My romance needs to be over. I need a new love. I hear the heroin market is hopping...
I was hooked. Now 18 years (I can't friggin believe it's been 18 years) later, I am still smoking. I love to smoke. I will admit that. There is really nothing about smoking that is detestable to me (other than lung cancer). I hear other people say that they hate the way it smells or tastes or whatever. I cannot relate.
The reason I am bringing this up is that it is time for me to quit, yet again. I always promised myself that I would quit once my children were old enough to know what I was doing. A. knows. She told me," Smoking kills." CRAP!! What are they teaching those kids in school these days. Why don't you say a rosary or something and leave the vices of your mother alone.
I have tried many times to quit. I have taken Wellbutrin (J. asked me to start smoking again), hypnosis, ear shocks and cold turkey. The only thing that seemed to work was getting pregnant. Since we have established that there will be no more children, I have to figure out another way.
So, here's my solution. I am addicted to Oprah and have been attempting to get on her show for years (giggle, giggle D. Yes, I remember the When We Were the Mulvaneys debacle). Anyhoo, I digress. There is a show coming up about quitting smoking and I am thinking of sending in a plea for help. I don't know why I have this insatiable need for attention, but I think that if Oprah can build a school in South Africa she can help me quit smoking. She's a friggin miracle worker.
Whether that works or not I know I gotta quit. My romance needs to be over. I need a new love. I hear the heroin market is hopping...
Friday, January 12, 2007
My day off...
All week I have been looking forward to today. I was off this morning. What to do, what to do? Well, I decided that I needed a haircut. Of course, I need it NOW!!! Therefore waiting for my usual hairdresser to return from vacation was absolutely unacceptable. When I decide to get my haircut, loyalties fly out the window and I'll take the first available appointment that is not in a mini mall. This may account for some of my bad haircuts. Anyhoo, my regular woman was not there so I went with a new woman. She was nice enough. She took FOREVER to cut my hair. I never get my hair washed, odd I know, but I hate that feeling on the back of my neck in the tub. I also never know how much to tip the hair washer, so I just come in with a wet head. I also NEVER get a smock. You're wearing a table cloth when you sit down in the chair therefore I do not need to take off my clothes and put on something else. My woman cuts my hair in about 25 minutes. I don't have a lot of hair. Well, this new chic took freakin forever and gave me a SHORT cut. After she was done hacking, razoring, shaping and whatnot I look like I could leave for Iraq. She then says, "I don't think you should wear your hair this short." Funny, neither do I. "You should also get highlights, your hair would look much better. Ya know, shiny." I have no hair left to highlight!
After that debacle, you would think I would be done with my quest for self improvement. NO SUCH NONSENSE!!! I went to get my eyebrows waxed. Usually the little woman takes about four minutes to do both brows. This lady took 20 minutes to wax and pluck my eyebrows. I am not Bert, so what the hell was she doing? I was envisioning those super thin eyebrows that often women of a certain profession have. Anyhoo, she did a fine job but did mention that I needed to come in more often and perhaps I should get a manicure, "Your hands are really rough." THANKS!!!!
I am beginning to wonder how I look to the rest of the world. I look in the mirror everyday. It's not perfect but I'm presentable most of the time. Am I a Cosmo "don't" with a black bar across my eyes? Am I secretly being filmed by friends for a pathetic loser make over show? (Yes, I'm taking my meds.) I am a vain person. I wish I weren't, but I am. So, for those of you who see me on a regular basis, let me know when I look ridiculous because apparently I don't see it.
After my makeover I had to take C. to the foot MD. He's got crazy feet and we trying to fix them. I'm sure once he's in prison we could have the state pay for his feet, but J. doesn't want to wait that long. The last time we were at this office, C. crapped his pants. This time he peed. We are VERY popular. On the way home from the office, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw C. CHOMPING on something. Here's how the conversations went:
Me: Whatcha eatin?
C: Gum.
Me: Where'd you get gum?
C: My nose.
Me: GAG REFLEX ACTIVATED!!!!
I did then explain to him in the old Southern tradition, if you eat your boogers you will get boils. I don't know if he got it.
Finally we stopped at the library to pick up a book I had on hold. When I got it, the book was HUGE!! After checking it out I realized it was a large print book. It's like reading A.'s Easy Reader Books. I just started laughing. Maybe the librarian knows something I don't and that is why the beauty professionals had such a hard time fixing me today. I CAN'T SEE!!!!
So much for a morning off. Next time I will just take a nap.
After that debacle, you would think I would be done with my quest for self improvement. NO SUCH NONSENSE!!! I went to get my eyebrows waxed. Usually the little woman takes about four minutes to do both brows. This lady took 20 minutes to wax and pluck my eyebrows. I am not Bert, so what the hell was she doing? I was envisioning those super thin eyebrows that often women of a certain profession have. Anyhoo, she did a fine job but did mention that I needed to come in more often and perhaps I should get a manicure, "Your hands are really rough." THANKS!!!!
I am beginning to wonder how I look to the rest of the world. I look in the mirror everyday. It's not perfect but I'm presentable most of the time. Am I a Cosmo "don't" with a black bar across my eyes? Am I secretly being filmed by friends for a pathetic loser make over show? (Yes, I'm taking my meds.) I am a vain person. I wish I weren't, but I am. So, for those of you who see me on a regular basis, let me know when I look ridiculous because apparently I don't see it.
After my makeover I had to take C. to the foot MD. He's got crazy feet and we trying to fix them. I'm sure once he's in prison we could have the state pay for his feet, but J. doesn't want to wait that long. The last time we were at this office, C. crapped his pants. This time he peed. We are VERY popular. On the way home from the office, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw C. CHOMPING on something. Here's how the conversations went:
Me: Whatcha eatin?
C: Gum.
Me: Where'd you get gum?
C: My nose.
Me: GAG REFLEX ACTIVATED!!!!
I did then explain to him in the old Southern tradition, if you eat your boogers you will get boils. I don't know if he got it.
Finally we stopped at the library to pick up a book I had on hold. When I got it, the book was HUGE!! After checking it out I realized it was a large print book. It's like reading A.'s Easy Reader Books. I just started laughing. Maybe the librarian knows something I don't and that is why the beauty professionals had such a hard time fixing me today. I CAN'T SEE!!!!
So much for a morning off. Next time I will just take a nap.
Monday, January 08, 2007
NO MO CHILDREN!!!
I have some new babies in my life this year. They are so sweet. They look cute and really get a woman thinking about,"Maybe just one more..." Then I come home to mine and think,"Anybody want these?"
There are a couple of reasons why J. and I decided not to have any more kids. The first reason is that I think it may be illegal for us to reproduce again. Secondly, I hate being pregnant and finally I don't think I could live through another three year old. I drug him to school today. He told me his stomach was "honking" and he couldn't go to school. (How could he know of my fear of geese?) He wouldn't put on his coat, he wouldn't walk, he wouldn't carry his back pack.... So, I did what every bad Mommy does, I picked him up under my arm so that he couldn't kick me and carried him the 2 blocks to school. He SCREAMED the whole walk. I just knew that one of the neighbors was going to call DFS. He told me he was not going to play with any kids and that I would have a bad day. I thought to myself, I'm going back to bed as soon as I drop you off, doesn't sound too bad to me.
I picked him up from school and he had a fine day. Then it was time for a nap (his, not mine). I picked up his wriggling, kicking body and deposited him in his room. "I AM NOT GOING TO SLEEP!!!" He is screaming right now and slamming the door. If I go up there, one of is not coming out....
KNOW YOUR LIMITATIONS!!! That is my advice for today. I'm leaving for work in one hour. I CAN MAKE IT!!!
He just came downstairs and said," I have been asleep for too long and I have poop in my pants. My tummy isn't honking anymore."
57 minutes...
There are a couple of reasons why J. and I decided not to have any more kids. The first reason is that I think it may be illegal for us to reproduce again. Secondly, I hate being pregnant and finally I don't think I could live through another three year old. I drug him to school today. He told me his stomach was "honking" and he couldn't go to school. (How could he know of my fear of geese?) He wouldn't put on his coat, he wouldn't walk, he wouldn't carry his back pack.... So, I did what every bad Mommy does, I picked him up under my arm so that he couldn't kick me and carried him the 2 blocks to school. He SCREAMED the whole walk. I just knew that one of the neighbors was going to call DFS. He told me he was not going to play with any kids and that I would have a bad day. I thought to myself, I'm going back to bed as soon as I drop you off, doesn't sound too bad to me.
I picked him up from school and he had a fine day. Then it was time for a nap (his, not mine). I picked up his wriggling, kicking body and deposited him in his room. "I AM NOT GOING TO SLEEP!!!" He is screaming right now and slamming the door. If I go up there, one of is not coming out....
KNOW YOUR LIMITATIONS!!! That is my advice for today. I'm leaving for work in one hour. I CAN MAKE IT!!!
He just came downstairs and said," I have been asleep for too long and I have poop in my pants. My tummy isn't honking anymore."
57 minutes...
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Night Terrors
I awoke last night to my son pushing his way into my bed. "Move Mom, I need to sleep." Being too tired to fight, I scooched over and went back to sleep. After what seemed like two minutes, my son gets out of bed and says,"Come on Mom, let's go sleep on the couch and watch TV." I glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 AM. No way man. I got out of bed and walked C. back into his own room. He began to shriek. "I WANNA WATCH TV!!!" He sounded like Rain Man, repeating himself over and over. Anyone who knows me, knows that you don't mess with my sleep. I am going to win this battle.
I was afraid that C. would wake up the whole house, so I threatened to take his blanket if he did not stop. The shrieking continued. The only thing I could do was walk out of the room and pray that he would shriek himself to sleep. I went back to bed. About a minute later I hear him say very loudly, "I am going to watch TV." I am a strong believer in natural consequences. I knew that it was VERY dark downstairs and for a three year old it would be scary. Dressed as an Incredible, dragging his blue blanket and pillow, he harumphed down the stairs, mumbling to himself about what a bad Mommy I am. I smile to myself.
I wait for a moment and he appears again in my room. "Mommy, I am going to sleep in my bed."
I was afraid that C. would wake up the whole house, so I threatened to take his blanket if he did not stop. The shrieking continued. The only thing I could do was walk out of the room and pray that he would shriek himself to sleep. I went back to bed. About a minute later I hear him say very loudly, "I am going to watch TV." I am a strong believer in natural consequences. I knew that it was VERY dark downstairs and for a three year old it would be scary. Dressed as an Incredible, dragging his blue blanket and pillow, he harumphed down the stairs, mumbling to himself about what a bad Mommy I am. I smile to myself.
I wait for a moment and he appears again in my room. "Mommy, I am going to sleep in my bed."
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
My fear of geese
There have been questions regarding my seemingly irrational fear of geese. It's time to tell the whole story.
Once upon a time there was a sixteen year old girl who lived in Texas. She just got her driver's license and with nowhere really to go, she and her friend went to a little pond inside an unfinished subdivision to smoke cigarettes and talk about what sixteen year old girls talk about.
One day, while at the pond the young girl decided to feed the ducks, fish and geese that also congregated at this pond. Everything started out fine. The animals were orderly and gracious for their snacks....until... the food was gone. It was at that time that the geese began to chase this young girl and her friend. They were hissing and flapping and charging. They surrounded the car. The girls were forced to climb on the hood of the car to avoid the vicious attack. The friend began throwing things at the geese, hoping to trick them into leaving. These geese were no fools. They knew the difference between lipstick and bread. Luckily the sun roof of the car had been left open and the girls were able to climb into the car.
Eventually the geese flipped off the girls and called them some nasty names and they left. The girls were able to return home relatively unscathed other than the psychological scars that have never healed.
I felt like I had gotten past this fear of geese until an incident last spring. While attempting to enter my place of business I noticed a VERY large goose standing in front of the door. Apparently she had decided to build her nest in front of the door. She was angry that day my friends. As I approached, I attempted to talk myself through the irrationality of my fear. Once I got within 10 feet of her, she began cursing me out in goose, "Come one step closer bitch and I'll peck your mother fucking eyes out!" With my heart racing and palms sweating I retreated to my car. I could hear her yelling after me,"Damn right, you better run!"
As I was sitting in my car I thought that maybe I could conduct therapy in my car. It could be a mobile unit. No, that wouldn't work. Maybe I would just call in sick. Then I remembered the back door of the building. I was able to go to work and help people with problems. Ironic? By the end of my day the goose had been removed. Who's laughing now?
So, hopefully that explains that though a fear of geese seems irrational, when you are me it makes perfect sense.
Once upon a time there was a sixteen year old girl who lived in Texas. She just got her driver's license and with nowhere really to go, she and her friend went to a little pond inside an unfinished subdivision to smoke cigarettes and talk about what sixteen year old girls talk about.
One day, while at the pond the young girl decided to feed the ducks, fish and geese that also congregated at this pond. Everything started out fine. The animals were orderly and gracious for their snacks....until... the food was gone. It was at that time that the geese began to chase this young girl and her friend. They were hissing and flapping and charging. They surrounded the car. The girls were forced to climb on the hood of the car to avoid the vicious attack. The friend began throwing things at the geese, hoping to trick them into leaving. These geese were no fools. They knew the difference between lipstick and bread. Luckily the sun roof of the car had been left open and the girls were able to climb into the car.
Eventually the geese flipped off the girls and called them some nasty names and they left. The girls were able to return home relatively unscathed other than the psychological scars that have never healed.
I felt like I had gotten past this fear of geese until an incident last spring. While attempting to enter my place of business I noticed a VERY large goose standing in front of the door. Apparently she had decided to build her nest in front of the door. She was angry that day my friends. As I approached, I attempted to talk myself through the irrationality of my fear. Once I got within 10 feet of her, she began cursing me out in goose, "Come one step closer bitch and I'll peck your mother fucking eyes out!" With my heart racing and palms sweating I retreated to my car. I could hear her yelling after me,"Damn right, you better run!"
As I was sitting in my car I thought that maybe I could conduct therapy in my car. It could be a mobile unit. No, that wouldn't work. Maybe I would just call in sick. Then I remembered the back door of the building. I was able to go to work and help people with problems. Ironic? By the end of my day the goose had been removed. Who's laughing now?
So, hopefully that explains that though a fear of geese seems irrational, when you are me it makes perfect sense.
May the Lord help me
I am on day 4 of C's steroid treatment for asthma. He is THE DEVIL. I know that it is not him but God give me strength not to walk out of the house, down the street and into a busy intersection. Let's see, right now he is screaming (as he has been for the past twenty minutes), "I WANT A DIFFERENT KIND!!!!!" Kind of what, I have no earthly clue. I am trying to ignore him. He really wants candy. NOT GONNA HAPPEN!! Add sugar to steroids, RIGHT!!
He's supposed to go back to school tomorrow. I don't know that in good conscience I can send him. I really like his teachers, so sending him may in fact destroy that relationship. I can't go to work tomorrow because I know they would just call and tell me C's got some kid in a headlock and would I mind coming to get him before they call the police. I just put him in his room for the thousandth time today. He told me he wants to break everything and that he hopes the big bad wolf comes and blows our house down. Right now so do I.
We had a great time New Year's Eve with some friends. We played quarters and looked up Britney Spears' crotch on the internet. (I promise we are over the age of 15). The highlight of the evening was getting my new diamond earring stuck in my ear and having my friends take turns trying to yank the earring out of my ear with tweezers. There was such a sick pleasure that they took in inflicting pain upon me. Around 3:30AM, C. started with his issues and has not stopped. I am keeping an eye out for the acne and bulging biceps. He just asked me," Will you be a nice momma please?" AGHHHHH!!!!
Hope the rest of the year gets better....
He's supposed to go back to school tomorrow. I don't know that in good conscience I can send him. I really like his teachers, so sending him may in fact destroy that relationship. I can't go to work tomorrow because I know they would just call and tell me C's got some kid in a headlock and would I mind coming to get him before they call the police. I just put him in his room for the thousandth time today. He told me he wants to break everything and that he hopes the big bad wolf comes and blows our house down. Right now so do I.
We had a great time New Year's Eve with some friends. We played quarters and looked up Britney Spears' crotch on the internet. (I promise we are over the age of 15). The highlight of the evening was getting my new diamond earring stuck in my ear and having my friends take turns trying to yank the earring out of my ear with tweezers. There was such a sick pleasure that they took in inflicting pain upon me. Around 3:30AM, C. started with his issues and has not stopped. I am keeping an eye out for the acne and bulging biceps. He just asked me," Will you be a nice momma please?" AGHHHHH!!!!
Hope the rest of the year gets better....
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