Fun and Games with the Mentally Ill

2003-10-21T23:37:00.000-07:00

Here I sit at 2:19 AM, unable to sleep. I decided it would be a good idea to come downstairs & blog since none of my friends are awake and my bf isn't "home" at the moment. So here I sit, stuffing myself with cinnamon-pecan twirlies, drinking iced tea and smoking clove cigarettes, trying to figure out what I have to say. Man, when I go on a downswing, there's no swing about it. It's more like someone cut the ropes. I should be in a good mood since my job interview went well today. I interviewed for a cashier position at Sam's Club. Instead, I'm now nervous about whether I'm ready to re-enter the workforce and even if I want to do it at all. And I've been extremely broody about life since I got home from my interview.

My 7 year wedding anniversary is coming up on Saturday, and I've been feeling horrible about it. In no way do I regret being with Jeff, but I definitely could've gone about it better. It occurred to me earlier just how much I've hurt my husband and I really wish I could take it back. Don't ever get involved with someone when you're already involved with someone else, folks. End the first relationship before beginning (or getting in too deep) with the second. That's important. Write that down. Like I said, I don't regret being with Jeff, and I wouldn't change or trade my love for him for anything, but I do regret all the pain I've caused to my husband. I worry that after I finally leave here, he won't take care of himself. I know it's not my job or responsibility to worry about him. I know that I really don't have any right to be concerned. That doesn't change the fact that I do and I am. Most of all, I feel completely impotent when I think about how to properly express to him that I'm sorry and just how sorry I am. It wouldn't do any good anyway. Nothing's going to change.

Anyhow, after all of the above, I started thinking about regrets in my life. I used to be able to say that I had only a few, but now it's a few too many. I think a lot about when I'd go if I could turn the clock back and do it over again knowing what I know now. That's an incredibly hard decision to make. I love my children, so I'd have to be with their father, and that throws off just about everything else I want to change. It wouldn't do any good anyway. Nothing's going to change.

The biggies in my life as far as regrets go:

1) I regret not making love with Jeff when I was dating him in high school.
2) I regret not making love with Jeff when I met up with him again after we dated in high school.
3) I regret not being more persistent in maintaining my relationship with Jeff when my mother broke us up.
4) I regret not calling again and again until I reached Jeff when I was almost 18.
5) I regret telling Brian Klatt that I was pregnant in my freshman year of college just to try and keep his affection as well as all the lies that came after.
6) I regret marrying my children's father.
7) I regret not calling Jeff after my children's father and I divorced.
8) I regret all the horrible things I said and did to my daughter, especially in the last year.
9) I regret pushing my son aside when he was little in order to give my daughter the attention she demanded.
10) I regret being less than supportive when my son was in crisis earlier this year.
11) I regret breaking my husband's heart, and causing him continuous pain for the last 2 1/2 years.

Believe me, there are others, but I can't think of them right now. You may think that some of those things don't belong on the same list with the others, but you're not inside my head or heart so you can't possibly know how I feel. Sometimes I don't know how I feel except to know that I feel like a horrible person who deserves all the bad things that come my way. I really wish I was more even-keeled. These downswings really suck, especially after a med change that's supposed to neutralize them. I should probably report this to the shrink, but I won't. It wouldn't do any good anyway. Nothing's going to change.

2003-10-17T14:26:00.000-07:00

Ok, so in the last entry I said I'd be back tomorrow...I should've said I'll be back tomorrow (or not). I have become grossly undependable. You may fire at will. Although frankly, I don't know what the hell will did that he deserves to be fired upon so regularly. Must've been something bad. Perhaps he was wearing a t-shirt from tshirthell.com and offended...well...everyone. I love that site. If you haven't checked it out, do so. However, you must have a sense of humor. If you don't, it won't be any fun for you. If your sense of humor is warped like mine, you'll love it. Especially the new wrapping paper section. Zombs, there are some cute ones for bebes too.

Ok, onto the rantings & ravings. Well, actually there aren't any at the second, so I'll give you some good news. The social worker who has been supervising our little family dynamic visited yesterday. She was on the case in order to keep the kids in my custody due to their frequent past visits to the attention center (juvie). Anyhow, she said yesterday that things here have improved vastly, and she's going to decrease her visits. She'll now be coming every other week instead of every week. This deserves a "YAY!" Go on...I'll wait. Anyhow, if things keep going like they have been, she'll close the case sooner than any of us thought possible. Which is good since I can't stand people in our business. It's really embarassing to have outsiders know just how looney you are. (insert Looney Tunes theme song here.)

We're still having fun with the kitten, having let her discover catnip. She is so funny when she's high. On a sad note though, we had to put one of the weezoos down since she was NOT spayed as the pet store told us. As a result, she got tumors and was really really sick. Obviously we were really sad. Kate got mad at me since I didn't let her say goodbye, but she'll get over it. It's not like she paid all that much attention to them anyhow. However, I guess she's living proof that you never know how much you'll miss something until it's gone. The remaining weezoo was a little confused for a while, looking for her absent friend & cage-mate, but she seems to be doing ok now. We make sure and lavish more attention on her so she doesn't have time to be lonely. She and the cat are forming an interesting relationship. The cat climbs up on the cage to follow the weezoo wherever she goes, and the weezoo bites the cat anytime she can. It's really quite amusing. You'd think the cat would've learned by now. Ah well...some of us are slower learners than others.

I still haven't heard anything about the application I put in at Sam's Club the other day, so I'm calling them tomorrow. I think saying, "Are you fuckers going to hire me or NOT?" wouldn't be the correct approach, but I may use it depending on how vague they are being. I'm beginning to think that this whole mentally ill/homicidal thingy might be getting in the way of my getting a job. Perhaps I should apply at the post office? Ok, that wasn't nice, but I'm not going to erase it so nyeeeeeeeeeeh.

Well, the bf is coming either late tonight or early tomorrow morning, so there are some things I need to get done. Work before play, you know.

It occurs to me that as my life is getting more "normal," I'm becoming boring. I'll try to do something rash in order to entertain you guys sometime soon. I tried to knock over a 7-11, but it was too heavy. Too bad they don't have those photomat kiosks anymore. Nothing worth doing is ever easy though. Maybe I'll try a dairy mart next time. =O)

2003-10-13T08:26:00.000-07:00

Ok, we'll try this again. I blogged the other day, but my stupid computer wouldn't let me post it. Now we seem to have all the bugs worked out (knock wood) since I stole my son's hard drive from his PC that he wasn't using. Anyhow, my e-mail now works although I need to rebuild my address book, my internet works, and I'm hoping that this works too. We'll see, I suppose. And as previously promised, I've decided (again) to keep this thing up to date. In case you guys are interested. If you're not...well...I'm used to talking to myself. I have kids, you know.

Anyhow, nothing much is new on this front except I'm really taking umbrage at the lottery fairy ducking my calls. Mean bitch. I'm gonna pull her little wings off, see if I don't. I need to get my car fixed, I need to catch up on bills, and dammit, I deserve a mansion with fountains & shit and about 6 new cars. Plus now that my parents are "dead" I suppose I'll have to pay for college for my kids myself. Which sucks. A lot. Speaking of college, I've actually taken some action to re-enroll myself for classes starting in January. No one have any strokes, it's only for a certificate program for medical transcription. It's not like I'm actually going to complete my bachelor's. I think if I did, the world would stop spinning. Anyhow, I'll have a full class load in January and no more than 3 classes for the following sessions. I'll have completed everything by summer of 2005. That seems like such a long time away, but I keep forgetting 2003 is almost over. Anyhow, wish me luck with sticking with it. I have this annoying habit of not finishing things I start. This, however, would be most beneficial to me. If I get a job with a company called Medquist--one of the largest and fastest growing contractors of outsourced transcription work, it's very possible I could be making about 50 to 60k a year AND working at home. That's my eventual goal. If I have to do a couple years' hospital or clinic work, so be it. Uh oh...someone alert the media. I actually set a goal. Now let's see if I achieve it. I do have every intention of doing so. Let's also hope that Mr. Bi-polar or Ms. ADD don't rear their ugly heads to get in the way. We shall overcome!

Jesus, I'm almost optimistic and perky. Someone slap me. I am well aware that hope is a four-letter word.

Ok, well the other day was a Dickens day. I got calls from husband past, husband present, and husband future. I felt like running through the streets in a nightshirt shouting vague giftmas things & cooking a goose. I laid down till it passed though. No arrests for me this week. Besides, I would've probably kicked Tiny Tim's crutch & beat him over the head with it. You know how moody I get.

The kids are mostly behaving themselves of late although they're still moody & mouthy. Since they inherited those traits, I can't fault them for it too much, but I do anyway. They're both doing well on probation, so I think I'll have the agency keep them on it until they're like 30. I'll look into that and let you know.

Anyhow, I just wanted to drop a few lines to let you guys know I'm still alive & stuff. Oh yeah, and to tell you something funny. My bf was having a bad day on Sat. and the crowning glory (or last straw) was that he opened the side door to his van which promptly fell off. I, of course, got the visual of him standing there with a door in his hands and immediately started laughing my ass off, which I believe is not the reaction he was looking for. However, he's a good sport and knows that if it had happened to me instead of him, he'd have not let it go for months. You gotta love that about friends & lovers--the overwhelming necessity of continuing to point out the stupid shit you've done and never let you forget it. Regardless of my unexpected response to him, he feels better now, and so do I. You gotta appreciate that.

Ok, I'm out of here. I'll be back tomorrow at least if not today. Depends on what happens. Too bad it's not Wednesday. For those of you who remember Romper Room, Wednesday is "anything can happen day." I'll hope for the best though. Maybe someone will trip going across the street when I'm driving to the shrink's office. That should cheer me up. Later gators. :)

2003-09-22T10:03:00.000-07:00

Hello disappointed readers. Today being my 37th birthday, I decided I'd write a few things. Jesus, I didn't realize it'd been since August since I blogged last. Evidently, I've either been very busy or very lazy--or a combination of the both. I am adept at multi-tasking. Anyway, the reader's digest version of past events is as follows: both kids are on juvenile probation for domestic violence (against me), the State's case against the pervert who took my daughter's virginity is now before the Grand Jury (necessitating testimony--joy), still no word from my would-be horse farming so-called mother, and as stated before, I am now 37.

37. 37. That would mean I'm pushing 40 pretty hard, wouldn't it? Ordinarily, age doesn't bother me, but lately I've been thinking that I haven't done a goddamn thing with my life. Then I go lie down until I don't care anymore. I've been doing a lot of lying down the past couple weeks. One thing I have noticed as I'm aging not-so-gracefully is that my tolerance for stupidity is waning at an alarming rate. And I now have a weapon, so it's getting to the point where stupid people will no longer get a sign, they will get a bullet. I think it would be a good idea to fire two warning shots (into their heads) when they piss me off. Too bad you can't shoot telemarketers.

Another thought I had recently that I deemed necessary for sharing is my confusion about the English language we all know and sort of use properly. Did you ever notice that certain words should really mean something else? The one that came to my attention is "copulation." We all know this word is synonymous with intercourse, but I feel it should mean something different. It's against the law to impersonate a police officer, and since impersonation is synonymous with emulation, I believe that copulation is a better term for that particular transgression. Just my opinion...take it or leave it as you will.

On the animal front, my daughter brought home an orange and white kitten the other day, and I (being the sucker that I am for strays) allowed her to keep it. She is now rethinking the decision as the kitten is deciding when Kate should be up instead of Kate deciding when to get up. I went in this morning to wake her for school, and the kitten was literally jumping--with all four feet--on Kate's head. Most amusing for me, most annoying to Kate. You'll have that. Then again, karma reared its head a little later today. I had made chicken eggrolls last night and was eating leftovers for lunch. The kitten decided that eggrolls were the purr-fect food for her, and so she was licking my lips. I thought this was cute at first until I realized that she was just looking for the best place to chomp, which turned out to be in the middle of my lower lip. Nice. I knew there was a reason I don't like cats. =O) Ah well...the kitten got her just desserts yesterday as she tried to bat one of the ferrets who was inside the cage. She got bitten on the paw--about which she was most unpleased--and she's a slow learner, so I'm sure it will happen again. In case anyone is wondering, the dogs and the cat are getting along fine. The cat bosses them around, and they being the morons that they are, allow her to do so. This is also quite amusing.

One more thing before I go read George Carlin's Brain Droppings (it's a book, dummy), I have learned that drugs are our friends, and Xanax is now our best friend. It doesn't do much for the anxiety attacks, but at least I don't care when I have them. This has to be some sort of improvement.

Everyone behave as you see fit. I'll yak again when I have something pseudo-interesting to say. Later, gators.

2003-07-16T14:20:00.000-07:00

I got some great news today. The results of my HIV test are in, and I am disease-free. Feel free to do backflips now. I was extremely worried about being infected due to stupid decisions I've made in the recent past, but luckily, the only consequences to my idiotic actions were worry and a new sense of respect for monogamy. Hence, from now on, I will only be sleeping with the bf. (chortle) Oh yeah, I also got a wonderful letter in the mail today that reads as follows:
"Please accept this letter as notice that the Stark County Department of Job and Family Services has recently completed the assessment of risk involving Kaitlin. Due to new information, the disposition has been changed to indication [of sex abuse] to substantiated in regards to [the 23-year-old pervert she was fucking]." YAY! I'm reminded a little of that old Ringo Starr song (with a little poetic license taken) "You're 13, You're beautiful, and YOU'RE GOING TO JAIL, YOU PERVERT SON OF A BITCH!"

Not much news on the daughter front as yet. Her trial is Friday. She did call me today when I wasn't home and left a message for me to call her back since she had to read me some things she'd written. She also said she loved me. It's a little too early to hold out hope for a wake-up call for her, but maybe I'll practice a little optimism for a change. I did, however, find a few quotes that apply in some way to my life that you may find amusing. As pertains to my daughter--"If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning." ~Caroline

As pertains to my own life, there are two:

"Every time I close the door on reality, it comes in through the windows," and "I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once." ~Jennifer Unlimited

Not much else to say today. Catch you guys later. And btw, just because I hadn't blogged in over a month is no excuse for everyone (except Cyn, whom I adore) not to make comments. So Pbbbbbbbbbbbt on you. =O)"

2003-07-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

Ok...the intake hearing was supposed to be this morning at 8fucking30, but I had to sit in the waiting room until almost 10 o'clock. I was unthrilled, but finally they took us in for the intake. Actually, this process is more like an interview rather than a hearing but it gives the juvenile court liason an opportunity to see what the delinquent in question is like. It started out all amiable-like and ended with the court liason shouting at my daughter to shut up and quit whining. Not pretty. He also said that he was not going to recommend to the state that they release her because she obviously doesn't understand cause and effect and doesn't realize that whether she meant to cause harm or not, she did, and that is a crime. She kept crying and saying she was sorry. Well of course she's sorry. She got busted. Anyhow, the pre-trial in the afternoon went a lot faster. Kate's court-appointed attorney spoke to me briefly (no pun intended), only asking me if they would recommend release, would I be willing to take Kate home. I managed to say No Ma'am and was going to explain why, but the mousy bitch just said OK and ran off to the rock she must've crawled out from underneath. (pardon my grammar there) Anyhow, during the hearing, the state's rep stated that at that time, the stated didn't feel it was prudent to send Kate home due to safety issues. Then Kate's lawyer leaned over and whispered to her that I had said I wouldn't take her home. Kate turned around and shot me the dirtiest look I've ever seen her give anyone. If looks could kill, I'd have been a pile of ashes. I'm guessing that she's pissed at me. You think? Her trial is set for Friday morning, and they'll hold her until then. I doubt that they'll reduce her charge, but we'll see. I'm not sure how juvenile trials work, so I'll have to keep you posted.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the visit with the bf was spabulous even though today I feel like I got hit by the love bug--that's Herbie the Volkswagon for those of you old enough to remember. I'm sore in places I forgot I had muscles. Ah, memories....we shall enjoy them. =O) He's coming back on Thursday (yay). He's my favorite. (insert kissy noises here) My dryer went to the happy hunting ground, so he helped me hang laundry outside to dry and even strung me a second line. He's so sweet. I'm gonna keep him.

Um...lessee. Oh yeah. The husband went tractor-pulling on Sunday and won 3rd place in a class he usually doesn't compete in. I'm glad he's found something to do that he likes and that he's making friends. It's good for him, even if it is a totally redneck activity. He's a little upset--ok more than a little--that Kate's behavior has degraded as much as it has since she had an interest in tractor-pulling with him. However, after all the shit she's pulled--especially having accused him of touching her inappropriately and trying to rape her--he's just about done with her altogether. The aforementioned allegation was dropped, btw. She recanted her story, and the police said they didn't believe it either since when she gave her statement, she was changing her story each time and contradicting herself repeatedly. Nonetheless, he may not have been the perfect father, but he has helped raise her since she was two. Obviously, he was hurt, offended, and pissedasfuck about the allegations being made in the first place. I'm thinking that was pretty much unforgivable. I wonder if hypnotism would work for her. Repeated post-hypnotic suggestions that she behave like a decent human being and stop all the bullshit she's involved in. I'll look into it. Maybe I'll look into electroshock therapy too.

Ok, that's about it for now. I have to check my e-mail and then go to bed as I have plied myself with (prescribed) relaxation & sleep medications and am now seeing double on my screen and having trouble typing. Nighty night, y'all.

2003-07-13T08:40:00.000-07:00

Well avid soap-opera fans--our last episode left us on the edge of our seats (possibly toilet seats) awaiting the next chapter in Chaos Reigns Supreme. Today, we pick up with our heroine (me) bruised & battered, the leading-ish man (husband) with a pepsi bottle imprint in his chest, and the oh-so-delinquent Miss Congeniality (Kate) in the Multi-county Juvenile Attention Center, charged with domestic violence. Let's just suffice it to say she was most unthrilled to be handcuffed and dragged away by the heroic city police, but at least she was smart enough not to get a resisting charge added to her dossier.

We have intake and pre-trial on Monday morning. I'm not sure how that's going to go. It was a much simpler decision on my part regarding my son as violent behavior (as previously stated) is uncharacteristic of him. However, Miss Congeniality is a different story. Frankly, I'm not sure I can guarantee her safety--much less the safety of everyone else in the house--if she returns. One thing I can almost positively guarantee is that she is going to hate me even more after she's released. Plus I know that things can always get worse (refer to safety tip in earlier blog posts--oh wait a minute--I told you to write that down). I'm afraid they will, but I've never been much of an optimist.

Our injuries are relatively minor, but it's the principle of the thing. Knowing how domestic violence works, I am fully aware that things escalate. It's kind of like cheating on your spouse (which I also know inside and out--pun intended). The first time is always the hardest, and it just gets easier from there on. Practice does make perfect after all. Anyhow, everyone just have positive thoughts that this kid will straighten herself out before she completely ruins her entire life at 13. I wish to the gods I could do something, but I'm powerless. Teenagers (mostly) suck.

Ok, enough of the icky stuff. The bf is coming up to visit me today after a week-long absence in Virginia with family. He should be here within the hour, and I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing him. I'm thinking of recommending him for sainthood. He's warm, loving, understanding, insightful, comforting, and most of all he puts up with my bullshit and the melodrama (histrionics?) that go on around here. Yay! He's on the top of my Whattaguy list.

Everyone continue to beg & plead with the lottery fairy for us. This is no longer a wish, it's a desperate need. We're drowning here...we're swimmin' as fast as we can, Cap'n, but I dinna think we're gonna make it. =O) Bleah. I don't want to end on a negative note, so I'll relate a joke: Why can't a chicken coop have more than two doors? Because then it would be a sedan. HA HA HA HA HA Oh well, I've always had a particular fondness for stupid jokes. Got any grapes? ;-)

2003-07-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not dead. However since most of you probably think I am, I decided I'd gathered more than enough info to fill you in on. Let's entitle this CHAOS REIGNS SUPREME.

Ok, when we last visited our little soap opera, the biggest problem was the 13 year old daughter. Not much has changed on that front with the exception of escalating. Evidently, I should be proud that she's learning new skills and totally new and improved ways to piss off the entire state, but I'm not. I'm funny that way. Call it a quirk. She's still smoking (for sure) and I'm pretty sure she's still continuing with the other delinquent activites in which she indulges with such enthusiasm. However, Thursday (7/10), she started a new attack plan on her brother that ended up with him in the detention facility. Nice. Thanks a lot.

First of all, she woke him before he was ready to be awakened demanding that he switch rooms with her. She didn't ask him, she just told him it was going to be done. No matter how often he said no, she persisted, thereby pissing him off even more. Next, she decided to call his girlfriend thinking that his girlfriend would take her side against her brother which pissed him off even further.

As an aside, let me add that his girlfriend is pregnant and just had her appendix out roughly three days before this incident. Needless to say, she's not feeling very anxious to be in the middle of more bullshit from--well, anywhere. And for the record, no I am not going to become a grandmother. Although I do not morally agree with the decision, both kids have decided that they are too young and not able to care for the child, so they have opted to terminate the pregnancy. There are other factors involved, but they're none of your business so fuck off. If you're writing a book, leave that chapter out and make it a mystery.

Anyway, the situation was escalating in the bickering department, and I decided to go upstairs to my room to read since I was not really very interested in listening to the bullshit AGAIN (still?). When I went to my room, the bickering continued and moved up a level to Kate tormenting Ian ruthlessly and taunting him mercilessly--making comments about his manhood, his sexuality, etc., as well as continuing to threaten to call the gf. Somewhere along this path, Ian got mad enough to become violent although this behavior is not characteristic of him. So, he clocked Kate in the back of the head with one of my partylite candle holders & split open her scalp. She retaliated by trying to strangle him, leaving claw marks on his neck. In between, there was the requisite punching, kicking, etc. Anyhow, Kate came upstairs later boo-hooing that Ian had tried to kill her and got the brilliant idea to call the police. Despite the fact that she was begging for the beating, Ian was arrested for Domestic Violence and transported to the detention facility. He stayed there overnight. We had two court hearings yesterday, and he has a trial set in juvenile court on the 31st. His lawyer feels that there are enough mitigating circumstances that the charge will either be reduced or possibly even dropped altogether. Cross your fingers. When we picked Ian up from said detention facility after the second hearing, he told me "Mom, it's pretty sad when you have to go to jail to get a break from your cunt of a sister." 'Nuff said on that subject. I'll let you know how it turns out.

On a positive note, I have lost 60 pounds. I've been watching what I eat--and that doesn't mean just watching the food go from the plate to my mouth--and (gasp) exercising. I may turn out to be a hottie after all. I feel much better now even though I still have quite a few pounds to lose before I reach my goal weight. My hips & ankles don't hurt as much, and neither does my back. This exercise thing may be good, but don't tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to protect, and I'll deny it to the grave. Oh yeah, I also got another tattoo. A couple of years ago, I had to have my nail removed completely from my second toe on my left foot, and it looked retarded when I polished my toenails. So, I got a little daisy tattooed over the empty nail space. I like it, and it no longer looks retarded since all the nails (or empty spaces) are now filled.

I think I forgot to tell you too that my farmer-jane mother has so politely requested that I not contact her or any of her relatives. I've been disowned (again...Tear). I did ask one of my aunts to let me know when my mother dies. I will go to the funeral and laugh my ass off and then dance about on her grave singing "Ding, Dong the witch is dead" and then piss on it. Literally. It should be a good time. Anyone else that wishes to join me is welcome. I'll try to give you as much notice as possible. If you think that this is terrible of me, it's only because you never met my mother. And now you can't because she's "dead." Pardon me for snickering. She sent me an e-mail stating the no-contact order and then at the end of it, she put in parentheses "This e-mail address will cease to exist after transmittal." Obviously, the first thing I thought of was the old Mission Impossible thing--this tape will self-destruct in five minutes. Tee hee.

Ok, I gotta go now since it's now thundering & lightning outside. More as it happens. I'll try to blog more often. No, I WILL blog more often. In the immortal words of Yoda, "Do or do not. There is no try." May the force be with you (and the lottery fairy with me). =O)

2003-06-10T13:40:00.000-07:00

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water.....(insert Jaws theme here). Well folks, the proverbial fecal matter hath hit the oscillating air circulator in my neck of the woods. NEVER say "things can't get any worse." That's just daring fate to prove you wrong. That's an important safety tip: write it down. Let's bring everyone up to speed:

1) My 13 year old daughter decided it would be a fantabulous idea to lose her virginity to a 23 year old man, but I can't do a fucking thing about it cuz I can't prove anything. Sex, lies but no video tape.
2) Same kid: smoking, drinking, drugs--'nuff said
3) Someone "borrowed" my ATM card and subsequently overdrew my checking account by $5,000.00 (not including NSF fees and returned overdraft protection charges from the credit card which is now maxed)
4) Someone "borrowed" my Xbox and has yet to return it.
5) Both of my vehicles are useless: blown head gasket on the mom mobile & trashed tranny on the Honda. See #3 for reasons as to why they cannot be fixed.
6) Increased feelings of being a trapped rat because of all of the above.
7) Various children in my household have been stealing my psych meds since they contain THC. I feel like the incredible hulk on this issue. (You won't like me when I'm angry.)

Ok, I think that covers it. In regards to my wayward daughter, I decided if everyone else can do it, so can I. I wrote to the Montel show to see if I can get funds to send her to the outdoor therapeutic boarding school in Virginia. Cross your fingers. (Mental note: lose more weight if you have to go on TV since the camera adds 10 pounds and there's more than one camera.) On a semi-positive note, my son who has always kept his feelings bottled up has removed the cork from said bottle and is now letting everyone from here to Guam know he is rather dissatisfied with the way this household is being run. I would fault him for this for the way he's going about it, but dammit, the kid happens to be right. I hate it when that happens. Smartass.

Finally, if any of you have (and I'm sure you have) had to let go or give up something or someone you loved for whatever reason, I feel for you. The bf and best friend I have on this planet are on hiatus due to probable stupidity on my part, but unfortunately, I felt that this was the best thing to do right now. Don't ask me why. Trust me, you wouldn't understand my logic. Hell, I don't understand my logic. Anyhow, I miss him more than I can express adequately. We still talk, but it's not enough and I don't think I can do anything about it right now since I have so many pressing matters here at the homestead that I'm still not able to get to. Jeff, if you're reading this, please realize that I love you more than life itself. We'll get it worked out, babe.

Ok, I'm outta here after not being here for so long. Let the bitching begin.

2003-05-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

I would like to take this opportunity to prove to all you non-believers that my husband's dog is really trying to kill me. I've told you and told you, but you never took me seriously. Well, one emergency room visit and one orthopedic visit later, I'm more than convinced. Black hallway + (Evil) Black labrador = one hell of a fucked-up knee. That's an important safety tip. Write that down. Anyhow, the son of a bitch (literally) was lying across my path in the middle of the hallway with no lights on in the middle of the night, and I tripped over him. Most dogs would have enough sense to get the fuck out of the way when someone steps on them, but this one gets further under your feet and makes you trip even harder. I went down hard--right on my right knee--then rolled over into my son's steps with my right shoulder. It appeared at first that I only had a carpet burn and bruised dignity, but when I woke to go pee at 4-ish in the morning, my knee was swollen so badly it looked like someone had stuffed a softball under the skin (or a breast implant...choose your own imagery). Nothing was broken or chipped, but it still hurts like hell and is purple from mid-thigh to mid calf. My kneecap is still swollen, but it's down to an A cup from a D, which is a great improvement. Physical therapy starts next week. (joy)

In the meantime, the dog continues to watch and study my every move. The plot thickens, I just know it. Bastard.

2003-05-05T00:26:00.000-07:00

Ok, the fecal matter has hit the oscillating air circulator once again. Today I found out that my lying, manipulative daughter is now corresponding with prisoners. Like we needed anything else added. I also reinforced my self-analysis of being a complete moron because I allowed myself to be suckered in by my mother again. She promised help (i.e., sending Kate to boarding school in VA at an outdoor intensive therapy program where she would have flourished), but then rescinded her offer and changed it to sending Kate to Bob Jones Academy. For those of you who aren't militant fundies, this is an academy somewhere down south that is a rigidly strict school for the fundie's fundie. Now...who among you thinks that this would be a good environment for my child, especially when just this morning she told me that she didn't want to be a christian since it was the biggest load of bullshit she'd ever heard. Raise your hands. Raise both hands if you're french. (sorry, had to do it)

I really want to send Kate to this school, sponsored by Three Springs, Inc. If anyone wants to check out the site, it's Threesprings.com. Their programs are really good for troubled teens, but unfortunately, they also involve at least a $115 per diem tuition. Since the programs are usually 12 to 18 months long, that gets pretty hefty. You do the math. It's staggering. Anyhow, if anyone knows of any place where I could find a philanthropist or some other youth organization that would possibly give us a grant (since I'm dirt poor), the info would be deeply appreciated from the bottom of my little black heart. You know, it really pisses me off that I want to help my child before she completely ruins her life, but I don't have the resources to do so. And then there's my psychobitch mother who has more money than god and won't help unless it's on her terms and Kate goes to Fundie U. There has to be a way to solve this. Come on, guys. One of you HAS to know where there's money to be found. Spill. You know the lottery fairy & I are still not on speaking terms.

They should make people have a license before breeding...

2003-04-30T05:10:00.000-07:00

I forgot to tell you something. My labor of last fall planting roughly 18 million tulips and other bulbs are now showing fruits. Well, tulips & daffodils anyway. My yard looks so pretty. Especially with the fucking truck & camper gone. Now if we could just get rid of the redneck-infested husband....any suggestions would be welcome.

2003-04-30T04:53:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I haven't blogged in a while. Sue me. I was pretending to have a life. Well, not really--I was just trying to hang on to what little control I have left in this clusterfuck. On the bright side, the kids are actually behaving themselves with the exception of my daughter now begging me on a daily basis to let her smoke pot. No. Sorry. If anyone is smoking pot in this household, it's going to be me. And I am, so there. Anyhow, no more fights between the kids other than the usual sibling bullshit--and by usual, I mean like "normal" people usual, not looney-r-us usual. So that's a good thing.

Now...I'll take husband-generated bullshit for $1,000, Alex. We have a new addition to our household whose name is DJ. He's 19, adorable, and has a picture-perfect award-winning ass. So of course, my daughter wants to have sex with him. TOO FUCKING BAD. If anyone in this household is going to have sex with him, it'll be....nevermind. Anyhow, the husband was having a cow and 1/2 because DJ hadn't found a job yet, but he finally has and is working gleefully at the same place my husband is. He's having a blast doing the outside work (landscaping), hotrods around campus in a golf cart, and as a perk, gets to check out the lovely coeds sunning themselves by the lake. I just hope he doesn't decide to see if the golf cart is amphibious if he's checking them out too carefully. Anyhow, he's getting paid now, so that's one less thing for the husband to bitch about. You should've heard the shit prior to the hiring. I won't go into that now. In fact, I won't go into it at all except to say that the husband told me he was getting a "weird vibe" from the two of us. Christ, I'm old enough to be the kid's mother. (I can still look though.)

Lessee...what else is he bitching about? 1) I never pay any attention to him and would rather spend time with the kids (duh). 2) I still have a boyfriend (duh). I have made some compromises on this facet...much to my and the boyfriend's dismay. We won't be seeing each other as much, but will still continue to talk via computer or on the phone. Maybe that will shut the SOB husband up for a while. I guess he figures if he isn't getting any, no one else should be either. Stingy bastard. 3) He had to sell his broken-down busted-ass 82 Chevy pickup and his goddamn redneck camper trailer at my insistence. Tough shit. We don't live in Appalachia here. Forgive my spelling errors if I've made any. And I can't think of anything else. I block out most of what he says anyway. He sounds a lot like the teacher on Charlie Brown to me most of the time.

On the job front, I'm still not sure what they're going to do, but I hope they don't release me to go back cuz I'm afraid I'd end up worse this time than last. That last meltdown wasn't pretty. My meds don't seem to be making any difference whatsoever--I don't feel any different, but I suppose that since I haven't seriously planned any homicides in the last month or so, that's an improvement. We'll see how it works out. I'm still waiting on the lottery fairy. They say that money doesn't solve anything, but I think these people are rich and don't have to worry about it. Oh yeah, and the ones who say that money won't buy you love? Maybe not, but it can rent it for a while...that just may be enough. I know a 19 year old who....just kidding. See you guys later, and I promise to try and keep up with this if I can just disconnect the children from the damn computer. Love & kisses on all your pink parts! =O)

2003-04-14T08:57:00.000-07:00

Didja miss me? I'm back now. I know I haven't blogged in quite a while, but that's cuz WWIV broke out around here. My daughter has gone completely off the deep end, my son is still being passive-aggressive (although better) and the husband is still being a whiny crybaby bitch. I know that doesn't sound much different than usual, but the daughter decided it would be a fabulous idea to take 60 ibuprofen tablets necessitating a trip to the hospital. I wish to the gods they'd pumped her stomach, but they just made her drink that charcoal shit instead. I hope it taught her a lesson. That stuff looks like crude oil. I think I'll pass on the overdose just in case they make me drink it. bleah.

Anyhow, the shrink & the counselor are doing fine in case anyone wondered. I, otoh, got so fed up & pissed yesterday that I ran away from home for 3 hours and didn't even take my cell phone. I think I might do that more often. Fuck 'em all. Someday I'm gonna run away & not come back. I had enough of this shit when I was growing up from my mother. I don't need to hear the same words from my 13 year old daughter who, btw, has decided that she is going to smoke whether I like it or not and even had the balls to tell me "there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it." I believe the balance of power may have shifted here, but I'm haven't surrendered yet. For instance, I had told her repeatedly not to have her door closed when she had guys in her room, and she (duh) didn't listen. Every time I opened the door, she was on top of another one. Ergo, I solved the problem my way. I took the door off the hinges. She was not pleased, to say the least, but at least that's one battle I won. She also got pissed at me for some stupid reason and decided to drink the better part of 2 bottles of Asti Spumante. I didn't stop her, but I did stand behind her laughing my ass off when she was puking up everything but her toenails. Maybe that'll learn her--at least for a while. Jesus, I was bad when I was younger, but I NEVER had the unmitigated gall that kid shows. Such a pity that the days are gone when you could beat the crap out of your kids and consider it discipline. I'd like to knock her through a wall. Twice. At least.

On a positive note, my flowers that I so diligently planted last fall are now blooming and look lovely. And it's a pretty day, so I think maybe I'll go sit outside & pull a Sheryl Crow--soak up the sun. Or maybe I'll just watch them out the window or plop my fat ass in front of the TV and watch DVDs. Life is so unpredictable. Later, gators.

2003-03-25T18:32:00.000-08:00

We had lovely doctors visits today: one to the shrink and one to the gynecologist. Evidently, my scheduling of such appointments would indicate that I needed both heads worked on, so to speak. (so it's a bad joke. sue me.) Anyhow, the gyne went fine except now I get to have a mammogram. I'm preparing for it by repeatedly slamming my breasts in the freezer door and tomorrow I'm going to have a friend back over them with their car in the driveway. That should help. I'd have them run over me with my own van except the mom-mobile's warranty has run out and it's now not-so-gracefully falling apart. Looks like transmission rebuilding may be necessary, and frankly I don't have the $1700 it's gonna take to do that. Everyone cross your fingers that it's just that little sensor thingy that it was last time--pardon me if I got too technical on the car part naming. That's a fuck of a lot cheaper. As for the inside lights that don't work and the ultra-annoying dinging noise it makes to tell me a door is open when none of them are...who knows when those will be repaired. I'm beseeching the gods for a winning lottery ticket so I can buy my Lexus and be done with it. You know...since the lottery fairy herself seems to be avoiding my calls.

As for the shrink, he's added more meds to my cocktail. I was so thrilled. Just what I need...more pills. This time it's an anti-depressant as he's a bit concerned that I'm losing control of my sanity on which my grip is tenuous at best. Things would be a lot better if the kids would just grow the fuck up already and quit acting like toddlers again. The husband isn't helping much either, and dammit, I need a vacation. A long one. Far away from here. Can someone come and get me? My van seems to be broken...

2003-03-22T22:59:00.000-08:00

Today I learned an important lesson. Don't step between two mentally ill adolescents (read lesser demons) who are having a knock-down drag-out in the kitchen. Unfortunately, no one told me this before, and as a result, I have a black eye courtesy of my son and a bruised chest courtesy of my daughter. Neither of them was injured in the fracas, and at least my son feels guilty about hurting me. What surprises me most about this ordeal is that--after being abused for most of my life, and especially during my adolescent years--both kids didn't end up thrown down a flight of stairs, beat in the face with the nearest available cast-iron cooking implement, or thrown in a dumpster somewhere. Perhaps I'm making progress after all.

I'm hoping I can cover the eye bruise with something before visiting the shrink on tues. I could tell him I ran into a door, but everyone in America knows that's a euphemism for "my husband beat the shit out of me." We don't want that. Besides, if that battle ever happens, I think we all know who would win, despite his 7" in height and 100 lbs in weight over mine. I could tell him I ran into something, but I don't think "my son's fist" would be an appropriate answer either. We don't want any domestic violence charges here. Besides, it technically WAS an accident. It was his sister he was intent on killing, not me. And she was just blocking the impending blows. Somehow though, I don't think the authorities or the shrinkies would consider that an OK situation.

In the meantime, I think maybe some anger management classes might be in order. That or a lot of duct tape. I wonder which one would be cheaper? Sam's Club has a lot of duct tape....from what I hear it fixes just about anything! I'll keep you posted.

2003-03-19T13:29:00.000-08:00

I forgot to add something to my last post. I think it's important, and I don't care if you don't. But anyway, the reason I didn't blog for as long as I didn't is that the St. Patty's day celebrations started earlier than St. Patty's day, and was unexpectedly accosted by a 6 foot leprechaun (or however you spell it) at the hospital while going to visit my daughter during her confinement. It took me three days to get over it. *shudder* And I'm even Irish.

2003-03-19T13:20:00.000-08:00

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...a beautiful day for a neighbor....you guys know that Mr. Rogers is dead now, right? Well, not to be disrespectful to the dead or anything, but I really don't want to be his neighbor now. At all. But thanks for asking, Fred. I'm still pissed at haloscan for deleting comments on earlier blogposts (cuz they were really good ones), but they don't seem to be concerned at all. I'm thinking of suggesting that THEY be Mr. Rogers' neighbor.

Anyhow, the daughter is back from the looney bin and seems to be doing better. She's adjusting to meds and since they make her drowsy, she's pretty comatose of late. At least there isn't any bickering. But I know that she'll get used to them, and things will change. I'm just hoping that this cocktail works for her. I feel really bad for the kid. First of all, she seems to have inherited the worst of my genes--that goes for both kids actually--and she really feels like she doesn't belong anywhere. I know how she feels, but I can't seem to make it any better. Let's just hold out hope for the future. My son, meanwhile, has begun his school-sponsored tutoring and seems to like it a hell of a lot better than mainstream school. We'll hold hope for that situation, too.

In the meantime, I have started writing my book. I think it's going to read a lot like my blog--more of a collection of thoughts & opinions rather than any kind of organized plot line. You're supposed to write what you know, and organizational plot lines in life are kind of foreign to me. At any rate, the introduction is done, and I'm working on the first chapter. I'll let you all know when I'm published so you can read it. Cyn, be proud of me. I'm following your advice. =O) Maybe it'll turn out to be just the thing I need in order to get my shit together...or at least make some money. We'll see. I had another great money-making idea, but I'm not telling any of you about it until I get it together, mostly because I'm afraid you'll steal my idea & then I'd get all pissed & stuff. Not to mention still being poor, which is not on my top five things I'd like to do in life list.

Time to go grocery shopping. If any of you see FML, tell him I said, "Fuck on, my brother." Later days, my friends. =O)

2003-03-15T07:43:00.000-08:00

Haloscan is down again. Quel surprise, non? Damn you haloscan. Damn you to hail!

2003-03-14T19:25:00.000-08:00

Yet another visit to the nuthatch yielded a pretty good hour & 1/2 with the kid this evening. She seems to be in good spirits. Three of the girls on the ward left today, leaving her with only one with whom she was familiar. However, she's a pretty friendly kid when it suits her to be, and she's at least trying to get along with the two new girls. The shrink keeps adding to her med cocktail, and I'm not sure how that's gonna wind up since we had difficulty getting her to take the meds in the first place. I suppose I shall have to play prison guard and verify that she's taking meds as needed....as definitely needed. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the erstwhile ex-husband has scheduled a visit to see her tomorrow. We'll see what kind of mood she's in when I see her afterward. Cross your fingers.

The only negative thing that happened tonight was that she wanted to have permission to call her friend Brandi. This is negative because she wants to find out through Brandi how Mr. Rudy is doing. She said she was worried about him, and if he knew she was in the hospital, boy would he high-tail it back to Ohio to come visit her. I know we're all entitled to her delusions, but this is not good. I have to tell her she's not permitted to have any contact whatsoever with this man, and she's gonna hit the roof. I have a counseling appointment in the morning, so my plan is to run it past the therapist and see what her advice is. I figure if Kate's gonna hit the roof and then jump off the deep end again with both feet and a cinderblock, better to do it in a controlled setting instead of at home. Where they have hard restraints & haldol if necessary. Remember this, people: Unstable melodramatic delusional adolescent + news she doesn't want to hear = duck & cover. That's an important safety tip. Write it down.

Anyway, the shrink (in his infinite wisdom) has decided that it would be a good thing for her to remain hospitalized for a little longer. I'm guessing it's going to be even longer depending on her reaction to the Non-Rudy news. Let's hope that the new med cocktail has had some small chance to start taking root and she'll be ok with it. Ok, so I'm delusional as well. Sue me. At least she's safe, somewhat happy (at least not miserable except for a breadstick incident that really doesn't bear mention), and for the meantime, halfway stable.

I deeply appreciate all the support I get from you guys. Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees, and we're not out of the woods yet. Maybe something cool will happen tomorrow and I'll have good news or at least something funny to report then. At least I was extremely productive today and got all the things on my list accomplished except taking shit to goodwill. Oh well. To quote Scarlett O'Hara....Tomorrah is anothah day. =O)

2003-03-13T18:17:00.000-08:00

From the sageness of the seeker: Blessed art those who commiserate with me and bitchslap me when needed. You KNOW who you are.

Tonight was our first visit to the temporary looney bin that houses my wayward child, and surprise, surprise, she's behaving herself. We talked with the on-staff therapist who says (ever-so-knowingly) that this situation is not going to be solved in the short time she'll be there, nor will things get better before they get WAY worse. Like I didn't know that. I can't believe sometimes that I pay people to tell me what I already know. I'm a moron that way. Perhaps I should've gone into the field of psychology. At any rate, he seems like an OK guy despite his choice of vocation, and I think we're all on the same page here as far as what's wrong with my kid.

1) She's 13
2) She's 13
3) She has distorted perceptions about what really goes on in life because (see #s 1 and 2)
4) The mental issues (i.e., bipolar and being 13) plus being off her meds just might have caused some of this shit.
5) And oh yeah. She's 13.

I did some of this shit when I was younger, but I started much later. The only hope I'm holding out now is that Kate will get her shit together before I did, figuratively speaking of course. I may not have my shit together, but I know where most of it is, so that's a start. Anyhow, they're not sure yet how long she'll be staying at "Club Meds" but no one has said anything about it being months or anything. I guess that's a good thing.

I'm feeling like less of a parental failure today, so that's an improvement as well. After ER is over tonight, I might actually get some sleep too. I look like the walking dead, and can personally attest that neither teabags nor cucumbers do jack shit for taking the swelling out of one's eyes. And me with no preparation H.

Now for the good part (note sarcasm): This Rudy person is a) 18 years old, b) a convicted felon, and c) not in Florida but in Kentucky. Kate may think that I don't trust her, and she's right. Every time I give the kid enough rope, she hangs herself. Every fucking time. Well, anyhow, I called Mr. Rudy's mommy and she and I had a lovely talk. I'm to be reported to if any calls come to their house from either my phone or the kids' phone, and I will tell her vice versa. She seems to be a sensible woman who knows that 13 year old girl + 18 year old felon/drug user = no fucking way. Let's hope my kid gets some sense and her kid finds someone else to take advantage of.

OK, now my ex is on the line, so I have to shut up for now. Yak at youse guys later on. Hugs & kisses! (bleah)

2003-03-13T01:45:00.000-08:00

I made a startling discovery tonight. I am the world's worst mother. When my daughter decided to run away from home and then refused to return with me, stating that she'd rather go to the DH and be beaten & raped every day, this gave me pause to think. She continued her rant, stating again that I've never loved her, I'm always mean to her, I never do anything for her, I pay her absolutely no attention, I continually hurt her feelings, and the most important people in the world to her are her friend Brandi and some guy named Rudy whom I've never met. Obviously, I don't know Rudy's age or anything else about the boy (if he is in fact a boy) other than he somehow managed to take advantage of a naive 13 year old girl and sucker money out of her to go to Florida. He claims it's because he'd gotten into trouble with the law before and wanted to take a vacation to Florida in order to get away from the horrors of possible police contact 'round home since the police are out to get him. In my opinion, his vacation was well-timed with Spring Break. Coincidence? I think not. My daughter, of course, wouldn't listen to me. Of course, I don't know anything, so why should she?

Now all this started because she inadvertently exposed her belly button that she had recently pierced (for the 3rd time) after I repeatedly asked her to wait until she was 14 so I could take her to a professional. The piercing is getting infected, and I got on her case about it. She claimed that my son's gf was the one who did the piercing, so when the gf called later, I asked her about it and we discover that little miss princess daughter is...a liar. Quel surprise. She gets more like her father every day--you can tell she's lying when her lips move. Anyhow, the consequence to her lying was that I took away her phone privileges, thereby preventing her from talking to the two most important people in her life. As she put it, I "took away her life" and the only way she would go home to go to bed was if she never had to wake up again. Evidently, without her phone, there is no life for her, as she wailed continuously. Alexander Graham Bell had no idea how much of an impact he would have on my child. So she ran away--without shoes or coat, I might add--and we caught up to her at her friend's house where her friend and her friend's mother were trying to convince her that she was acting in a most stupid manner and she should just go home and quit being an asshole. For some odd reason, Kate refused to listen to anyone speaking somewhat reasonably. She insisted she was staying right where she was until the police came to get her for being unruly and a runaway. She also informed me several times that if I took her home, she was just going to run away again, so what was the point.

In the meantime, she wound up being restrained and carried to the van. She continued to resist, but my husband and I managed to get her into the vehicle with no one getting injured. That's a minor miracle since she's a strong little sucker in the first place, and adrenaline certainly isn't kryptonite. While in the car, she begged repeatedly to call her friend to which we said no, and then she said she might as well die since she had nothing to live for anyway and other melodramatic stuff. However, for a child who has a history of cutting herself as well as suicideal ideation, we opted in favor of the local hospital who actually kept her this time. She'll be there a minimum of 3 days...possibly longer depending on her attitude and stabilization progress. She seemed pretty happy to be left there, so maybe it will do her some good. I miss her terribly already, and I don't want her to be away from home. But what concerns me most is that she'll behave herself perfectly while there, get released after 3 days, and then continue on the course of self-destructive behavior she seems so bent on taking. In fact, this terrifies me. What happens when I can't find her when she runs away? What happens when she actually does get picked up and raped or worse? How do I handle that? How would any parent?

So I ask...what is it that I've done that was so horrible that she no longer wishes to live in my home? Was it the clothes I bought her? Perhaps the food we provided? The shelter? The skating expeditions? All the giftmas presents (which were never enough in my opinion)? I just don't know. I've kissed every boo-boo, whether it be physical or emotional, the best I can. No matter how mean or rude or disrespectful she is to me, I continue to love her with all my being. It's rough when you realize that your best isn't good enough. I thought that my mother had cornered the market on the "no-matter-what-you-do-it-won't-ever-satisfy-me-you-worthless-piece-of-trash" mode, but I guess that skipped a generation and now my daughter is afflicted.

I'm sorry for writing all this melodrama for you people to read, and of course, my mother would be horrified that I'm "airing my dirty laundry in public." But you have to take the good and the bad, I guess. I am very sad that my daughter feels the way she does. I had hoped with all my heart that neither of my children would ever feel about me the way I do about my mother, but (to quote Mick Jagger) you can't always get what you want. The other downside to this is I hate it when my mother is right, and apparently, she was right about two things: 1) I had no business having children and 2) As she told me when the kids were born--this child is going to break your heart. Sometimes it really sucks to be the grownup.

2003-03-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

I decided a long time ago to write a book, but I'm having great difficulty trying to decide what to write about. I've heard it said that you should write what you know, but all I seem to know is chaos, lunacy, and being pissed off. I'm not quite sure how to incorporate this into a book. It's been suggested that I publish my blog, but who the fuck would want to read this shit? On a national level I mean. And then of course, you have all those book-signing things, etc. Big pain in the ass.

This is the reason that I never became a singer. All I wanted to do was sing. I wasn't interested in "performing." I have no stage presence, just a good voice. All that other shit is just a pain in the ass. Come to think of it, most things in my life are a pain in the ass. Maybe that's what I'll call my book....My life: One giant pain in the ass after another. Eh, maybe that wouldn't attract many readers. Then again, maybe it would make me a cult hero and I'd have a following of really strange beings on the fringes of humanity and sanity. Kind of like being with my friends.....maybe that's not such a bad idea after all.

One of these days, I'll figure it all out. Of course, then the moon will disintegrate & life on this earth would perish as we know it. Or everyone would have to get really really really big maglites.

2003-03-09T19:02:00.000-08:00

You know how certain things just don't go together? Oil & water....milk & pepsi....lamb & tuna fish...dictators & nuclear weapons,etc. My house was like that yesterday. (Sam, you should just love this one). I had the husband, the ex-husband, and the boyfriend all together in one house. This house. My house. The place where I live & breathe & clean & all other sort of normal mundane things. Potentially, we had the ingredients for WWIII, but I am pleased to announce that not only was there no bloodshed, my basement is clean. The bf came up to help me get it in order--kind of a "take it out in trade" thing for the organization I've done at his house. It looks fantastic. You can't eat off the floors, but that's gross anyway so it's not a big deal. Altogether, we compiled 7 humongous garbage bags full of garbage plus 4 or 5 boxes of shit that needed to be thrown away in like 1987, two window fans that completely don't work (one of which tried to electrocute the bf when he plugged it in to see if it worked), and about 1/2 a pickup load of shit that needs to go to Goodwill--including exercise equipment that I bought years ago and no longer need since I have plenty of closet space now. There are two types of people in the world: those who know that exercise machines are only good for hanging clothes on and those who think that they're good for exercise. It's the latter of the two that I worry about. A lot.

The bf was charming as usual and very very helpful, and the ex-husband was in one of those rare moods when I start to think he's not such a bad guy as long as you're not married to him or one of his children. He even showed his nipple rings only once. This is a rarity for him since he flashes more people than biker bitches. (No offense to the biker community.) The husband was agitated but behaved himself, even when I went to lie down for an hour and left him and the bf alone and within 3 feet of each other in the same room. He even came down and put up his utility shelves behind the Dahmer freezer to put most of his outdated computer junk on so that it didn't impede my progress into the furnace room into which I only venture at giftmas time to get the fucking tree and the wrapping paper. Wasn't that sweet of him? And I only had to ask him once. He was probably on good behavior since we had "company" and didn't want me bitching at him in front of said guest. Whatever his reasoning, a lot got done, and I'm tickled fuscia (since pink doesn't quite cut it this time).

On a serious note, my son had talked with his father (the ex) and said that he had some issues to discuss with him--mainly how much of a dickhead my son thinks his father is. They were gone for most of the day. I didn't figure it took that long to tell someone how much of a dickhead they are, so I asked about the visit when they returned. Turned out I was right. The dickhead conversation didn't take all that long, and the rest of the day was spent playing video games, tormenting the new rottweiler (Dozer?) with an RC vehicle, and visiting with half-siblings and ex-step siblings. I was happy to see that for the first time in a long time, contact with his father didn't seem to fuck up my son's chakras or whatever. I suppose I'm forced to admit that dickhead or not, sometimes he acts human.

Now, I just have one thing left: a question that has been plaguing me since the appraiser came. If you look on the side of a cigarette box, it says "SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Cigarette Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide." First of all, I'm confused as to why they felt they needed to use so many capital letters, but the question that burns in my mind is this. If cigarette smoke contains carbon monoxide, why doesn't the detector in the bathroom go off when I'm smoking in there? Some mysteries were probably never meant to be solved, like this one and the one about the light in the fridge. I know it goes off when you close the door, but does it stay off? The world may never know.

2003-03-07T11:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the 7th circle from hell day. I'm still so fucking pissed, I don't know where to begin. So today, we're going to complain about the tyranny that my town calls a school district.

I was awakened by a lovely phone call from the principal of the high school telling me that I had to go to the police station to pick up my son because he had been arrested. I, shocked to the gills, said, "For WHAT?" She told me that he had called the vice principal (hereafter known as the vp) a power-hungry bastard. I said, "And?" And she replied, "Then he said the 'f' word." I said, "BIG FUCKING DEAL! Tell me why he was arrested." She evidently thought that his swearing at a power-hungry bastard and using the 'f' word--and what's with that anyway? Which 'f' word? Did he say Fart? OMG! Anyhow, she though these were arrest-worthy offenses. And maybe to the teachers/administration, they are. I'm sure it's very threatening to them when they realize that they don't have a school full of little stepford students who say yes ma'am and yes sir. Plus I'm sure it was very threatening to the vp when my son treated him not as a superior, but as either an equal or a subordinate. Bottom line here--my son was arrested for bruising the vp's pride. So anyway, I went to the police station, and being as nutz as you lovely folks know I am, screamed at the police officers who were so calmly asking me to sign a paper to release my son to my custody. So I like living on the edge. Sue me.

We all know there are three sides to every story: your side, shithead's side, and the truth. Here's the truth of what actually happened. My son has medically documented depression and anxiety issues and actually had only been back at school for about 2 weeks after a month-long hiatus to get his medications regulated. The hiatus was preceded by my son's semi-meltdown due to the overwhelming stress he feels from being around large groups of people. Anyhow, he had five detentions before the break--for being late to ONE class--and then got 7 more detentions for sleeping in one morning and not going to school until 11:15. So in order for him not to have to spend an extra 45 minutes each day at school for these infractions, the vp, my son and I decided to just let him have three days in-school suspension in lieu of the detentions to make up missed work. This worked ok for the first two days, but then the silence of ISS started to sincerely aggravate my son's anxiety. When my son went to the vp to ask for help with this issue, he was treated like a five year old who's asked just one too many times for ice cream or some shit like that. My son even suggested alternatives to the ISS: He asked to either be put in out of school suspension or to be allowed to serve the detentions. The vp still abused his power and said no, citing school policy. Policy my ass. He told my son to go directly to the ISS room without any further issue and then asked who my son thought he was talking to. At this point, my son replied, "Evidently, a bastard who's so power-hungry he can't see straight." (A valid if inappropriate statement.) Anyhow, the vp then decided to wield some of his power and told my son to report to the ISS room without further incident, and my son said "The fuck I will." (OH NO! THE DREADED 'F' WORD!)

Now at this point, the powers that be at this concentration camp--oh, I'm sorry, I meant SCHOOL--should've realized that in light of my son's medically documented mental issues, maybe it might be a good idea to call mom seeing as they felt matters were getting out of control. Did they call Mom? No, they didn't. They could've called Ms. Guidance Counselor--the first competent one I've ever run across, btw--and had her help defuse the situation. Now, they did call Ms. Guidance Counselor, but it was only on the pretense of her talking to my son to calm him down since obviously he was upset by this time. The idea was for her to help him circumvent the anxiety and be able to function in class. The truth of the matter was that they chose to call Ms. Guidance Counselor in order to get my son out of the room so they could call the cops. Chickenshit bastards. Anyhow, my son went willingly with Ms. Guidance Counselor who did the best job she could to offer guidance. My son calmed down, and things were going to be ok--until he left her office and found himself face-to-face with the short arm of the law. They took my (calm and cooperative) son to the police station--uncuffed--to await my arrival to take custody.

Now. The vp called me later to explain what had happened and that my son had a five-day suspension and that he was to report to school next friday at 8:00 am. I informed vp that my son would NOT be returning to school at all, tyvm. He said I couldn't do that, and I said watch me. He said in order for home-schooling, I'd have to go through the superintendent. I informed him (in case he didn't already know) that the school superintendent was merely a titular figurehead, and I would do what I pleased with my own child. vp decided at that time to become condescending with me and hung up on me. Nice, huh? Anyway, he called me back later and I asked him first off if he wished to continue the conversation without being condescending. I informed him that I was not one of the low-income white-trash women who had spawned most of the children in his school, and that he would respect my education and treat me as if I am not an imbecile. He was speechless for a second and then said he didn't mean to come across as condescending. Whatever.

At this point, I asked him why he felt the need to call the police and have my son arrested when he should've called me. I reminded him that the school was well-aware of my son's mental issues, and if there was a problem, I should've been contacted to intervene and possibly make an emergency shrink appointment. vp says he felt this was not an option. I asked him why the hell not? The school knows that I am a very conscientious parent who cares deeply about her children as well as their educations and their psychological well-being. They are aware of that due to conferences and other contacts where I believe I have proved my point quite clearly. I asked vp why he didn't call the guidance counselor. He said he didn't know where she was at that time due to it being before school and teachers being on hall duty, etc. etc. BULLSHIT. He knew for a fact that she was standing right outside his office the whole time. I asked him why he felt it necessary to call the police in the first place. Was my son being violent? No. He has no history of violence. I do, which is why I can't understand why these assholes keep fucking with me, but hey--maybe they like to live dangerously too. At any rate, I asked for clarification on this issue...he felt threatened even after my son wasn't in the room? What a fucking pussy. And shame on him. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Anyway, the main gist of this rant is that the school WAY overreacted to a situation that could've been easily resolved and now my son has a criminal record. Thanks a lot, assholes. What they don't seem to understand is that there were several options they could've chosen other than the one they did. What they should've done is call ME. In fact, the Guidance Counselor asked repeatedly if anyone had called me. She was ignored (and later called into the office and yelled at for being "too nice" and for siding with "the child instead of supporting the school"). I can't believe they did this shit. Absofuckinglutely can't believe it. What happened to the schools being an environment, not only to teach the children academically, but to care for their individual personal needs as well? It was like that when I was in school. What they don't seem to understand either is that before this incident, school was just a stressful environment for my son. Now it's hostile. He doesn't feel he can trust anyone there with the exception of the Guidance Counselor--who is on the top of my whattaguy list--and a select few of his teachers. She seriously went to bat for us despite possibly putting her job in jeopardy. Kudos to this woman for understanding what her job is about and loving it.

Well, the school district is required by law to provide alternative education options for students who cannot function in mainstream schools for whatever reason. The special programs director is a woman who is not only hard to reach but who fights each and every parent who tries to help their child be accepted into the alternative programs. I called Ms. Program Director and left a message for her to call me back as soon as possible. I believe I used the word emergency, but don't quote me on that. Needless to say, she didn't call me back--that is until Ms. Guidance Counselor once again donned her superhero costume and called for me (without my even having to request it). Ms. Program Director called me on my cell phone and said that she felt an alternative program would be perfect for my son and would suit his needs quite well. So now he doesn't have to return to school. He will be tutored for one hour per school day, either at home or at the library (his choice), at the school's expense. See vp? I told you he wouldn't be back, you scumsuckingnazibastard.

Parenting--well, good parenting--requires that the parent be willing, able, and ready to come the aid of their child whenever necessary. It requires sacrifice, serious emergency planning and rearranging, and the intense desire to see their child succeed. It requires that the parent do everything in their power to see that their child is healthy, happy, and safe as well as making sure their psychological well-being is as well-being as possible. I will be the first to admit that how my son handled this stressful situation was at the very least inappropriate, and he has been given a stern talking-to about respecting authority as well as other adults, no matter how stupid or wrong they may be. He did not, however, deserve to be arrested for his infraction, and when we go to court, I will be armed to the teeth with letters from the psychiatrist, the therapist, and the Guidance Counselor. We're gonna smoke 'em in court, and if the charges aren't dropped completely, the school rep and the school district will have to slink off with their tails between their legs--that is if they can get their tails there with their heads up their collective asses.

In the meantime, the score is Mom: 100, School District: FUCK YOU. I win.

2003-03-05T05:22:00.000-08:00

Apparently today is one of those days when I shouldn't have gotten out of bed unless it was to hide underneath it. First off, I was awake until 4 this morning, so when it came time for meds at 6:30, my husband scared the shit out of me waking me to take them. Then he spilled my drink on the bed, and I hate sleeping in the wetspot. I figured I'd snooze a little until the kids were ready to be dropped off at school and was doing so quite peacefully when the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. Since no one else was going to answer it, I did. As an aside, this was really quite an odd phenomenon now that I think about it--usually both kids jump and practically teleport to wherever the phone is to answer it. Not this morning though. Anyway, it was my husband, telling me he had found my keys in his coat pocket and was really sorry about it. Great. So he's trying to explain to me where the extra set is, and I rolled over and fell out of bed twisting the shit out of my back in the process. I swore like a sailor and then rose to my feet to blearily look for the extra set of keys which, of course, are nowhere to be found in the house. I believe they've gone to the alternate key universe. It's a lot like the one the socks go to when they disappear from the dryer.

He kept messaging me on my Nextel (love that direct connect thingy, btw) and telling me how sorry he was and that it was unintentional and that he could run the keys home at lunchtime which would've been incredibly useful since the kids had to be at school in FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. (Please note carefully phrased sarcasm here) Oh yeah, and that he loves me very much and he's sorry. And that it was unintentional and he's sorry. And he loves me very much, too. Blah, blah blah--doesn't get my keys here any faster, does it? Anyway, I called my cousin, who came to take the kids to school for me, but Kate was already tardy and even though I called the school to tell them why, she's going to get a detention for it. I discovered at this time that the phone has been dropped juuuuuust enough times to make the flash button not work; therefore, I couldn't switch over and see who else might have been trying to ruin my day when I was on the phone with the middle school attendance office. Ian is upset that he won't get to spend any time with his main squeeze since the only time they have together is either before or after school. They have no classes together and don't even share lunch mods. Sad. And of course, I get to hear the bullshit from the kids while the husband is playing like a broken record (skipped CDs for those of you too young to remember vinyl) about how sorry he is.

I have two things to say: 1) To my husband, DON'T BE SORRY JUST DON'T TAKE MY FUCKING KEYS! Especially when you supposedly have a set of your own. And 2) To all you folks out there who have a significant other (in whatever degree) or family member who drives your vehicle from time to time, demand your keys back at all costs. Immediately if not sooner. Threaten at gunpoint if you have to. That's an important sanity tip: write that down. In the meantime, I'm going back to bed. It's raining, I have no car keys, and I'm stuck in this motherfucking house until Mr. Unintentionally-forgetful-and-really-really-sorry-about-it brings my keys at lunchtime. I may not have any appointments today, but that's not the issue. I hate it when my freedom is taken away. This day sucks..with a capital fuck-me-skipping. Bleah.

2003-03-04T19:17:00.000-08:00

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

2003-03-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I lied. Something pissed me off and I feel an overwhelming need to rant about it. I have received roughly 86 e-mails in the past 3 days from the system administrator saying that the porn e-mails "I" am sending are undeliverable. Each one of these porn e-mails is to roughly 100 folks in cyberland. Now. When I send porn, I send it to specific people who I know will appreciate it. So whoever it was that got my fucking e-mail address and is attempting to hide behind my pristine self (gag) better knock it the fuck off. It's getting really really annoying. Not to mention that it looks like really stupid porn....Jennifer Lopez & teenybopper shit. Whoever invented the virus program that snags e-mail addresses or the stupid bot or whatever that does this shall feel the pain of my wrath when I catch up with them. I've been feeling a little postal of late, and somebody's gonna get it good.

So anyway, I called my ISP to talk to them about the problem, and the very nice customer service rep (Jeremy) told me that if I reset my e-mail password, this would cease to happen. Well, Jeremy....you got your shit wrong, dude. However, another rep--equally nice although I can't remember his name--told me that it didn't make a goddamn difference what I did. The messages are undeliverable, so they're not coming from my computer anyway. I'm sure I'll catch shit from someone about this though. I hope my mother doesn't slip thru the cracks and get porn from me. It wouldn't bode well. Then again, maybe she likes Jennifer Lopez.

Ok, so it wasn't much of a rant. I'm preoccupied. At least I blogged, Sam. And Sam...while I'm thinking about it. Make feather put comments on her blog. NOW. Thank you very much. :)

2003-03-01T20:33:00.000-08:00

Sorry if I'm disappointing any of you, but I won't be blogging for a while until I get some shit straightened out. It would appear that I may have lost my best friend (bf), and I am heartbroken about this. Jeffrey, if you're reading this...it only would've taken two words: Don't go. I still will love you forever.

"Some things in this world, Man, they don't make sense
Some things you don't need until they leave you, then the things that you miss, you say
Baby, Baby, Baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world?
And maybe maybe maybe you'll find something that's enough to keep you,
but if the bright lights don't receive you, turn yourself around and come on home....
For Gods' sake turn around..." ~Matchbox Twenty

2003-02-25T20:01:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'd like to return to a subject about which I'm awfully fond: Blowjobs. I got to wondering tonight why the hell they call them that. Everyone knows you don't blow, so suckjob would be more accurate. However, it sounds wrong. And what's up with fellatio? Where the fuck did that come from? I was thinking also about cunnilingus, which actually makes sense. I suppose we could call blowjobs penisalingus, but that just sounds stupid. I'm guessing then that whoever decided to name the act just thought that blowjob sounded best. Who makes up these things anyway? And there are other words that really don't make a lot of sense if you think about them. Sexual intercourse, for example. Intercourse is talking, so shouldn't this mean talking about sex? Or maybe it's only sexual intercourse when you're talking dirty during the act. I don't know.

No one ever runs this shit past me. It's beginning to give me an inferiority complex. I'd hate to think that I'm not nearly as important as I think I am. I've discovered this in a lot of situations here lately. The foremost is that the office in which I work is still functioning without me there. I can't believe the whole department didn't collapse upon my retirement. What the fuck is wrong with those people? Don't they know I'm indispensable? How dare they start working after I leave. Sheesh.

2003-02-24T20:59:00.000-08:00

Well, what do we have today, kids? The son went back to school with a minimum of anxiety and a minimum of other problems as well. I had to pick him up early for his counseling appointment, and when he got in the car, I asked him how things went. He replied that at least he hadn't wanted to immediately strangle anyone. That's a great improvement, I thought, but then decided to ask him if it was a gradual thing instead of immediate, or if strangulation wasn't really on his agenda today. I'm pleased to announce it wasn't on his agenda for more than about 4 seconds or so. Perhaps we're doing well, but I hate to get too optimistic--especially soon. I'm not really all that good at it anyway. The counselor said he was doing well (she thought). I'm pleased. Maybe one of my kids will turn out somewhat normally, or if not normally, maybe socially functional. There I go getting optimistic again....sigh.

I wrote the first check to the nazibastards who hold my mortgage and even sent it to them priority mail so they can't decide at a later date to forego their "no late charge" policy for the first payment. They'll get it on time whether they like it or not. Further, I'm sending the second check on Saturday which will arrive WAY before the due date. Let's hope that's the last check I have to send them. But get this...the more I learn about this company, the pisseder I get. I can't believe shit like this is legal. If it is, it sureasfuck shouldn't be. When we were with the first company, we would pay twice a month. We'd made an initial payment, and then when the first payment came out of the checking account, we were paid up for a month. Ergo, we managed to stay 1/2 month ahead of the game for a year and a half. The first company that bought our mortgage (which is actually the parent company for the first company we were with, so I'm not sure how that works--can you buy shit from yourself?)....where was I....oh yeah, anyway, they honored the setup we had with the first company, and everything was hunky-dory. This was a great way to do things since the second payment to be withdrawn from the account actually put more toward the principal, thereby reducing the interest and the life of the loan. This is a yay thing.

Now, this second company who bought our mortgage has a different policy. You can send them as much money as you want; however, the money is held in some kind of non-interest-bearing escrow account, and when enough money is deposited for your payment, your payment is withdrawn from that account. Only your payment. So even if you were to send them a million dollars, you wouldn't get to pay off your loan any sooner. And the interest would continue to accumulate. Am I wrong in thinking that these people are doing things akin to thievery? I don't care if I am wrong, I hate them for it, and you can't stop me. And get this one...if you want a payoff balance on your account, you have to pay a $50 preparation fee and then another $10 fee to have them fax it to you. They'll mail it for free, but you still have to pay the $50...that is, if your state allows them to charge that, which Ohio doesn't. That's one point in Ohio's favor. Nonetheless, think of how many people these assholes are screwing month after month after month! Pitiful is what it is. And the worst part is that it's all probably perfectly legal. It's people like this that keep the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, I'm convinced of it. They probably started the whole thing in the first place. I bet they have ubermeanies on their board of directors who just sit around & think of other shit to do to customers to piss them off and bilk more money from them. They probably have regular contests to see who can be the meanest. Demons have nothing on these "people." We hates them, my preciousssssssssss.....

Anyhow, most of the cosmetic work is done on the house for the appraiser except for one more coat of paint & a wallpaper border I have to finish behind the stove, a dummy plate put over one junction box, a mat under the dogs' water dish (to hide the water damage since they're such sloppy drinkers), and 5 or 6 more ceiling tiles in the drop ceiling in the kitchen. I swear, it's not my fault about the kitchen. They all LOOKED like 2 x 2 tiles, but it turned out that 5 of the tiles were cut-down 2 x 4 tiles. I can't do anything right. Eh, whatever. I never wanted a career in construction anyway. I'll take care of that tomorrow at Lowe's. I just wish they'd let me drill something. It makes me feel all powerful & shit.

Ok, I'm gonna go wash the ceiling tile dust out of my eye and go to bed. Lots to do tomorrow, including a shrink appointment, but it's a good thing I'm headed into another manic phase. BTW, you guys should all come over on Friday. My house will still be clean, and that's a fucking miracle. Let me know how many of you are coming so I have enough food. I hate running out of salsa in the middle of a party, don't you?

2003-02-24T05:05:00.000-08:00

Ok sports fans, I'm back from da burgh, sore but oh so satisfied. Well....satisfied enough to live on the memories until the next go-round. He's coming to visit me thursday. Is it thursday yet? I really love this man. Even if he couldn't do what he does to me physically (Sam, TSK HERE), he's still a wonderful person with a warm, giving nature and a delightfully warped sense of humor. That along with the perversion--how could he miss? You gotta love a guy like that. Plus he likes me a lot, and that gives him major points. Then again, I could be biased.

Anyhow, we are at present having more lovely white stuff dumped on us at an alarming rate. We're supposed to have 5 more inches by this 4 afternoon, and wouldn't you know it? I get to drive in the stupid shit to take my son to counseling by 3. I've said it before, but it bears repeating (in my opinion). Snow is lovely, but they should invent the kind that doesn't stick to asphalt, concrete, or any place else that I have to walk or drive. If they can invent things like germ warfare, that shouldn't be too much to ask. I also have to drive to the post office today in order to send out my mortgage check to the facists who now hold my house hostage, but also to send a hug to a lovely little girl I'm sure I pissed off royally. I was supposed to see the bf's youngest yesterday but left earlier than expected due to anticipation of horrific road conditions once I reached Ohio. At IKEA (cool store, btw if you haven't seen one--they sell practically everything), they have these little stuffed hearts with arms that velcro shut, i.e., a hug. So I'm sending one to his daughter so she knows that I still love her even if I am a big fat liar liar with pants on fire.

As some of you may have noticed, my 15 year old son takes great pleasure in reading this blog. He even goes so far as to comment on things I say from time to time as well as things that YOU say. I get a kick out of the stuff he says to god, but I'm wondering why he feels it necessary to comment on my blog instead of...oh, I dunno.....TALKING to me about it? Either a) he's a chickenshit, b) he wants you guys to see how witty and clever he is (like his mother), or c) I'm losing my coolness in his esteem. I'm voting for choices a and b even though I know it's an inevitability that I become uncool in his eyes. Hey, at least I don't go out dressed like I'm a 70s throwback--although I would be in style, I feel that's not appropriate for a grownup these days and time. And furthermore, he should be thankful that I know spandex is a privilege, not a right. In the meantime, I'll await his next comments as well as yours.

Did I mention that I hate snow? Jamaica's looking better and better.

2003-02-21T10:42:00.000-08:00

Today had an interesting start...I had a therapy appt. at 8, and my daughter had one at 9, but we got there before the therapist did. Turned out she had left her keys in her other office, so we had to wait to get into the building until the other office staff arrived at 8:30-ish. Ergo, we started the therapy session in her car. Gives a new meaning to drive-thru stuff, huh? LOL

Going to the burgh this weekend, so I'll be leaving in about 45 minutes. See you guys on Sunday. And btw, there should be more comments added to my last posts, so GET WITH THE PROGRAM. This station welcomes feedback from its listeners. Ok, loveyounicelady, bubbye!

2003-02-19T19:18:00.000-08:00

Wokayfine. I broke down, swallowed my pseudo-feminist tendencies, and asked my husband to call this retarded mortgage company mentioned in the earlier post. It would just completely figure that HE got a nice person, and I had to get the asshole of the century. Anyhow, most of our questions were answered to our satisfaction, but there are some questions that even the customer service people aren't allowed to answer. So....what's the big secret? We have a mortgage, you own it...what's the deal with everything? I'm sick and fucking tired of all this secret-squirrel shit. They should just rename the place Cloak & Dagger Mortgages. Where the reps are rude and the customers are disgruntled. Or some shit like that.

At any rate, this call came after I went to the bank with a myriad of paperwork in hand to apply for a refinance on the loan. WHEN (Yes, I'm being positive here, don't have a stroke) we get the refinancing done, it'll be five-years less on the loan and almost 7 points lower on the interest rate. This is a good thing. We like this. Plus, we got a really nice lady that listened like she actually cared about my horrible experience yesterday. She's now on our giftmas card list. WHEN we get the loan, she'll be at the top of my whattaguy list and I intend to tell her this loudly, clearly, and often. I'm crazy, I can get away with shit like that.

Now I just have to make sure that the house is in order before the appraiser comes to see it. It's mostly in order now cuz my daughter went absolutely off the deep end the other day and cleaned like the in-laws were coming to visit. I didn't complain (duh). Anyhow, I still need to do a couple minor things, and then everything will be spotless--for about 10 minutes--I'm not kidding myself. Now if I could only get my son to clean HIS room. That would take an act of god or congress, unfortunately. I can't even bribe him anymore. The only thing he wants is a fucking McLaren F1 GTR, and he can't have it becaaaaaaaaause: 1) He's not 16 and has no license. 2) The car costs $285k. 3) I couldn't afford insurance on him if he drove a fucking ford pinto. It looks like both he and I are SOL. Bummer, dude.

On the bright side, I finished all the laundry--including mating the socks--so tomorrow's plan is to sleep as late as I can and then clean my room. My room, however, is not a disastrous biohazard like my son's is. I just have to put away my clean clothes, straighten up my dresser that has shit piled on it, and vacuum. Oh, and clean the upstairs bathroom. He's gonna have to call in a clean-up team I think. You know, those guys in the yellow clean-suits or whatever. I wonder if we'll have to install one of those airlock thingies in his doorway. Anyhow, then he has to do his homework. For those of you who are interested, he's getting better from his sickness slowly but surely, but gods you should've heard him "sleeping" last night. It went kind of like this: SNORE SNORE SNORE, INTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING, SNORE SNORE, "WHAT? WHO IS IT?, SNORE SNORE, MORE INTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING, etc. for about 2 hours. When I finally finished giggling at him--cuz it was really really funny--I tried to wake his ass up and send him to bed. He wouldn't budge. An added bonus to this funniness is that the hubster didn't know that Ian was sleeping on the couch next to his room, so when he (hubster) got up this morning to get ready for work, Ian started the snore thing again and scared the shit out of the hubster. LMAO I know that Ian's gonna have something to say about this shit, but god DAYUM. Kid was louder than a convoy of 18-wheelers.

That's all from here for now. Oh, except anyone who wishes to come and help me finish cleaning to get ready for the appraiser, please give me a call at 1 (900) Help-Seek. *snicker* (In my case it should probably be seek help.)

2003-02-19T00:35:00.000-08:00

The time has come for us to talk about service. Dictionary.com defines it (although further down the list) as: Assistance; help: An act of assistance or benefit. Now, let us specify CUSTOMER service, but first a little background info to set the scene. I read my mail today and discovered--much to my dismay--that my mortgage had been yet again sold. This makes twice in the last 3 months. After reading the letter the company sent, I was upset to find that a) they would not honor the terms of the original loan agreement, even though the company from whom they had bought the mortgage thought those terms were just dandy; and b) they "don't do" the twice a month auto-withdrawal from your checking account, a practice that expedites the repayment of the loan by applying more money to the principal, thereby reducing the interest. Furthermore, when I looked at the person(s) to which this correspondence was addressed, my name was conspicuously absent. Now, I signed every goddamned paper the original loan company gave me, so I know that I was the secondary borrower. However, due to some glitch in some careless clerical bimbo's data entry and/or scanning, my name was left off. Ergo, when I called "customer service" to discuss terms of this new agreement (which I had no say in whatsoever), they informed me that since my name wasn't on the loan, I would have to GET PERMISSION FROM MY HUSBAND in order to discuss the loan on my own fucking house. What century is this? I have to get permission from my husband? What the fuck was he gonna say? I'll tell you what he'd say. "Talk to my wife. She's the one who handles these things." Anyhow, after I explained to the first "service" representative that there had been a mistake and my name should've been on the paperwork, she basically told me too-bad-so-sad, you have to get your husband to call. Therefore, I called the previous servicer of said mortgage and asked her what her paperwork said. She said my name was on the loan. (well duh, I fucking knew that) She, however, being the sort who understands what her job entails, dialed the number for the current mortgage holder, waited on hold with me on the line for 15 minutes, and then tried diligently to explain to the moron on the other end of the line what the problem was. He told her (in ebonics) that no matter what her paperwork said, his din say nuttin like dat, so we had to hab da husban call in to say it ok to talk to da wife. He wouldn't listen to reason, no matter how it was presented, and finally, we ended up in a conversation as follows:

Him: "Lady, unless you hab yo husban call me an say it ok fo me to tawk to you 'bout this, you ain't gonna get squat from me. It be agin the law."

Me: "Sir, I suggest that you listen to the woman who represents the company who last held my mortgage and realize that a mistake has been made. My name should be on the loan; it is documented that my name is on the loan; therefore, you should be free and clear to talk to me regarding it."

Him: "Ah sayid Ah gots to tawk to yo husban, or you don gets no infomation."

Me: "Sir, first may I suggest that you go back to school and learn to speak proper English."

Now this is probably where the conversation started to go downhill as I was losing my temper at being thrown back into the 1940s. I'm not that much of a feminist, really, but goddammit, I know how to take care of business when I've been doing it for years. Basically, I was thinking he could kiss my fat white ass, but I refrained from saying that (exactly). He then said, "Oh dat's real nice lady. You still gots to hab yo husban call me and ok dis." At this point, I was livid. However, trying to be the bigger person, I said Ok, fine. He says, "You has a nice day, now." I said (all magnolia-sweet-like), "You, too." I thought he had disconnected, and said "FUCKING ASSHOLE!" He said, "I can be." I said, "Yeah, so can I." He informed me that the conversation was being recorded, and I said, "Good. Make sure you play it for your boss, you incompetent dickhead."

Then he proceeded to tell me that I needed to either notify them in writing, via fax, or by carrier pigeon that my "husban say it ok to discuss dis wif you." I told him that practice was sexist and insulting, and furthermore, I shouldn't be punished by a mistake made on their part. He just kept on talking--about what, I don't know since I quit listening to anything but the pounding of blood in my ears when he suggested I shut up about things I knew nothing about--but finally he mentioned a phone number to call. The number he suggested started with a 904 area code, so I asked him if he didn't have an 800 number available. He ignored me completely and kept on giving the rest of the number, complete with extension. I continued to ask if there was an 800 number available. I must have asked about 6 times. When it became clear that he wasn't going to give it to me, I asked through gritted teeth for him to repeat the 904 number. He said, "Now you's a smart little girly, you shoulda been writin dat down." I almost had an aneurysm.

I immediately started demanding to speak to his supervisor, and had to SCREAM at him 4 or 5 times that I wanted his supervisor RIGHT FUCKING NOW. After being put on hold for another 15 minutes, I got the pleasure of speaking with a woman who knew what service is. She was articulate, obviously educated, and profusely apologetic after I explained how that asshole had treated me. She was able (altho it be agin da law) to give me quite a bit of information, and I was quite satisfied with the conversation with her. Nonetheless, I'm going to the bank tomorrow to attempt to refinance the loan so I don't have to deal with any of their ridiculously rude and unhelpful staff. Christ, I've never been treated so rudely by ANYONE, even telemarketers that won't give up. And it's not like we're delinquent on payments--we're ahead even. There was no excuse for his ignorant, crass behavior except for mayhaps he's mama drop him on he's head when he been a lil boy.

So in closing, I'd just like to remind those of you in the "service" industry, don't be assholes--even if the customer is being one, the customer is always right. And furthermore, if this posting offends any African-American people, I deeply and sincerely apologize. However, I'm certain that you wouldn't want this ignorant cocksucker representing your race. Hell, he gives assholes a bad name. In the meantime, wish me luck at the bank tomorrow. I think if I have to talk to those imbeciles again, I may just blow a gasket for real. And my meds were working so well....

2003-02-18T10:25:00.000-08:00

Ok, Haloscan is pissing me right the fuck off. I finally get my blogroller thing going--and it's way cool, Sam (thanks)--and Haloscan is still down. How the hell am I supposed to get your feedback when they've silenced you? HALOSCAN HAS GAGGED THE LOT OF YOU! THEY'VE INFRINGED ON YOUR FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS!

Stand up for yourselves people. Rise up and stab haloscan with your plastic forks. Show them who's boss.

Ok, I'm done for now. More later--got doctor appointments today. Later, gators! =O)

2003-02-16T19:46:00.000-08:00

Ugh. What a day. I woke up this morning around 10 but didn't get out of bed until around 1 this afternoon cuz I was busy lying around staring at the ceiling & digging up bones. You know, rehashing old issues, etc. I thought about a few (hundred) more things I need to write concerning mommy dearest, and then a bunch of other stuff came to mind, complete with its own list of people to whom I should apologize for various reasons. Jesus, I feel like I'm in a 12-step program and have reached the atonement stage. It occurred to me afterward that even if I did seek out these people to apologize to them, probably 98% of them would have no remembrance whatsoever of what I was talking about so the point of apologizing would most likely be moot. And then I thought of that Adam Sandler movie--Billy Madison?--where Steve Buscemi became the lone rifler & killed all those people who had pissed him off since grade school. Maybe I should give this some more thought.

I took Ian to Statcare today cuz the poor kid's throat was so swollen he could hardly swallow. They tested him for mono (negative, thank you) and for strep (which is still cookin). He most likely has strep. Anyhow, they gave him a cortisone shot for the swelling in his throat and a pain shot since he was in considerable pain. He was much more comfortable afterward. AND since he was such a good boy at the doctor, they gave him a prescription for Vicodin syrup. Remember, our family motto is "Drugs are our friends." I, however, am deathly allergic to Vicodin, so if any of you wish to off me, that's a good way to do it. Kill me outside of 10 minutes. Write that down. I'm sure I'll piss some of you off and the info will come in handy.

Kate came downstairs tonight with an attitude--let me rephrase that--STOMPED downstairs with an attitude and said simply, "I don't want to talk about it." I said, "Talk about what?" She said, " I SAID I don't want to talk about it!" Then she stomped back upstairs. I looked at my husband quizzically and asked him, "Talk about what?" He shrugged (his usual response). So, we didn't talk about it. Fair enough. Everyone satisfied. Later on, I asked Kate if she'd taken her meds when she was supposed to, and she sobbed at me to leave her alone, she'd take the meds before she went to bed. We still didn't talk about it. I'm now vaguely curious as to what it is that we're not talking about. Evidently, it's pretty upsetting, so maybe I don't want to talk about it. Then again, having a proclivity toward OCD as well as nosiness, I probably won't sleep tonight because we didn't talk about it. If that's the case, I'll be in a bad mood tomorrow, but I won't want to talk about it. 'Nuff said. I don't want to not talk about it anymore. (Did anyone follow that?)

Ok. So, the kids don't have school tomorrow which is a good thing since it would probably be canceled anyway due to the incredible amount of snow being dumped on us at present. I'd make them clean the house, but Ian is sick, and Kate's having some kind of meltdown (that she doesn't want to talk about, in case you missed the previous paragraph), so I guess I'll wind up doing it myself. I should probably go to bed then so I can make sure and get up extra-early to ignore all the things I'm supposed to be cleaning. Procrastination is an artform you know, and I am its greatest proponent. Whatever. I don't want to talk about it. ;)

2003-02-14T22:49:00.000-08:00

Ok. The therapist assigned me homework to write a letter to my mother in order to get some of our "issues" out in the open. I figured it would be easy. It wasn't. The letter turned out to be nine pages long, and I think I left a lot of shit out. I actually had an adult conversation with the husband about the letter (register shock here if you wish--I know this type of behavior is rare among the two of us). He asked me if I felt better after getting some of it off my chest, and oddly, I don't. I think it's because I had to think about a lot of things I had comfortably blocked out. I much prefer avoidance behavior to opening Pandora's box when it comes to my mother. And for the record, I'm still going on about the farming issue. Anyhow, I have therapy tomorrow morning at 8 O'fuckingclock, so we'll see what she thinks about it.

Not much else happened today. I didn't really feel like getting up since I didn't have a lot to do--especially since it was chilly in the house, and my bed was nice & warm & comfy. However, when you wind up with three kids getting in bed with you for a "rap session," it's easier to give up and get up. I'm just glad the dogs didn't decide to join them. My son and his gf were talking with me and my daughter for a little while then started on the mushy stuff--you know, kissing, etc. I told them to please not start that shit on my bed. And absolutely don't start it when I'm still IN my bed. Bleah. Anyhow, I got up. Things were ok today except I let my daughter off grounding to go to her friend's house for the night. We'll see how big a mistake that was tomorrow, I guess.

Saw the bf yesterday (yay!). We took my son to see LOTR II, and I'm ashamed to admit that although the movie was interesting, I slept through part of it. You'd think Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen (sp?) would be enough to keep me interested, but evidently I was worn out. Oh well, the rest of the movie was pretty good although it was too long. No offense to those who are LOTR fanatics. The guys liked the movie anyhow, and I guess that's all that counts. We went to my favorite artsy-fartsy store after that & had a pretty good time. I got a great magnet with naked cartoon guys on it that says "It's all fun & games until someone gets poked in the eye with a dick." That one cracks me up every time I pass the fridge. Oh, btw...someone remind me to take all the non PC magnets off my fridge if any relatives come to visit. Somehow, I don't think they would find them very funny. Well, at least most of the relatives. Some of them are pretty cool as I'm finding out in my older age.

Anyhow, we came home afterwards, and my son disappeared upstairs to pay homage to the PS2 god. Ergo, the bf and I were left alone for some quality time together. Quality being the operative word. Sometimes it strikes me odd that after we're together, there are echoes of what he says to me--or a smile or two--or a kiss or a million--that invade my thoughts at the oddest times. I rather enjoy them though. It's amazing to me how much that man affects me. He touches me from miles away, and I love it. After almost two years together, he still makes me feel like I'm at the top of the roller coaster heading down that impossibly long drop where your stomach flips over and your heart is somewhere about 3 feet above your head. He's wonderful--spabulous even. I think I'll keep him. The only down-side to his visits is the inevitable divorce discussion the husband and I have the morning after. For some stupid reason, anywhere between 5 and 6:30 is his favorite time to bring this shit up. Nothing ever changes, so why do we continue to have the same discussion?

My daughter decided yesterday to pop off with one of her brutal comments regarding my relationship with the bf. Yesterday, she said that it's not fair to daddy that I'm only using him for his money. I couldn't believe she said that, especially right in front of the bf, whom she loves as well. She and I had a talk this morning though, and I explained to her that although I couldn't justify my relationship with the bf and was setting a bad example for her and her brother (it is wrong, you know...morally speaking), it wasn't just the money for which I was keeping daddy around. I honestly do love him still, and I would miss him if he weren't here. It's impossible to invest 10 years with someone and have no feeling for them whatsoever, so that part makes sense to me. Ah, decisions, decisions....someday I'll either make up my mind what to do, or one of them is going to make it up for me. In the meantime, I guess I should just internalize that I've made my adulterous bed, and I shall slumber sinfully in it. (TSK here, Sam)

Life is what we make of it. Although I've made a mess of mine ever since I've been on my own....it's not really that bad. It's at least tolerable. Perhaps my meds are working after all. Ya think?

2003-02-12T22:17:00.000-08:00

I didn't win the lottery again. I'm really becoming very disappointed in the lottery fairy. Maybe I should send her some flowers or something instead of threatening. I heard once that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but I really don't want to catch flies, I WANT THAT DAMN MONEY! Who the hell (besides maybe fishermen or really twisted little kids) would want to catch flies anyway? Oh yeah, and my looney dog who thinks he's a great and mighty hunter. He'll snap at flies when they're like 6 feet above him. Perhaps he's trying to perfect the art of Jedi fly-catching. Who the hell knows. He's as looney as the rest of us.

I got e-mail from my mother today. All she sends me are Christian-related things, political-related things, and the occasional thank you (like today) for sending her pictures of her oldest grandchildren whom, in my opinion, she couldn't give a fuck less about. Nothing further about the farming. Maybe she's rethinking her decision, but I doubt it. I'm thinking that if she wants to see something grow, she could resume contributing to my bank account. Hell, I'll send her copies of the statement every month if it'll make her happy. Wait a minute, I just thought of something. Maybe my mother is now the lottery fairy and since she's pissed off at me, THAT'S why I don't win. Maybe I'll send her some flowers or something. Or maybe graduate from college...or lose 80 lbs...or start going to church. Nevermind, now I'm being silly. Besides, it wouldn't matter what I did, it wouldn't be good enough. One day, her approval/acceptance won't mean shit to me, and I'll be much happier. And if I keep telling myself that, maybe someday I'll believe it. On a side note, I thought about sending her a Mitch Hedberg quote: "I had an ant farm once. Those fuckers didn't grow a damn thing." I don't think she'd get it though.

Anyhow, it's bedtime--actually WAY past--so I'm going to go to bed now. I'm sure you'll all sleep better knowing that I'm tucked away safe and warm in my cushy bedroom. One last thing before I go...I read a quote today by Kurt Cobain that I thought was really worth mentioning. He said, "Dreaming of the person you want to be is wasting the person you already are." Do you think it occurred to him that a shotgun to the head wouldn't qualify as wasting the person you already are? Some people have no grasp of logic. Later, gators.

2003-02-11T22:17:00.000-08:00

I'm still on about the farming thing...the voices in my head are having a field day with it (pun intended). Anyhow, I figured since I hadn't blogged in a while, I'd better say something so you knew I was still alive and not lost in wonderland.

Ok. Tomorrow is my son's 15th birthday, and two people told me today that I didn't look old enough to have a 15 year old kid. And they didn't even want anything from me. Can you imagine? Psh. All I see in the mirror is the beginnings of wrinkles which, in a man, are a sign of character, and in a woman are the signs of time stomping all over your once lovely and firm face. Oh well. Not much of the rest of me is lovely or firm, so I guess I may as well be consistent.

I'm reading a book now called "Take your tongue out of my mouth, I'm kissing you goodbye." It's fabulous. Anyone with a sense of humor who hasn't read it should, and try not to laugh out loud too much. I made the mistake of starting to read the book while in the waiting room at the shrink's office. It gained me some not-so-pleasant looks. Important safety tip: don't act crazier than you really are while at the shrink's office. Write that down. I did, obviously, escape from there, so things might be looking up.

I would like to take this opportunity to remind Shroomy-babe of the 11th commandment (Thou shalt not be a smartass) in regards to his comment on my last blog entry. However, I will say this as well....Shroom, I love you even when you're being a bastard. :) BTW, I'm still looking for the lottery fairy, so if anyone finds her, please send her my way. There's a Lexus and a house in Fox Chapel with my name on them. Plus I have a lot of friends to help out, so this could be to your benefit too. Pay off all your debts and not have to pay taxes on it? Why aren't you people throwing her at me??? I know some people who would like to get out of where they are (both geographically and otherwise--you know who you are). Find the bitch & send her here post haste, ok?

We're supposed to get between 2-6 inches of snow tonight, and the wind is blowing like I haven't seen it in a long time. Better sign off now. I'll leave you with this thought: Nevermind.

2003-02-06T21:55:00.000-08:00

Ok, the federal & state taxes are done. Refund from federal isn't as much as I hoped for, but then again, when is it ever. BUT.....how about this for adding insult to injury? The state, for whom I worked for seven glorious (gag) years, and who forced me to retire due to my bipolar disorder, did NOT take out state taxes from my so-called income. So now I owe them money. And after they drove me nutz. Bastards.

I'm gonna find that lottery fairy & tweak her fucking nipples until she gives it up...mega millions is up to like 111 mil this weekend....so I gotta work fast.

2003-02-06T18:47:00.000-08:00

Farming. FARMING! (And I'm the one on medication?)

2003-02-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

I'm in a better mood than I was the last time I posted, but I'm sure that's short-lived as I have to do my taxes (after ER of course). I tried to install Turbo Tax, and it refused to recognize my internet connection. Leave it to me to purchase neurotic software. I got the problem fixed via telephone and only 15 swear words. I think my meds may be working. We'll see after the tax return.

Anyway, good news on the home front. The daughter has been home a couple times--albeit for short periods--and she and her brother have not tried to kill each other. She wishes to come home for the weekend this upcoming one, so we'll see how it goes. Everyone cross fingers, eyes, the street, any Ts you can find, some hot buns, and anything else that can be crossed.

Bad news on the home front: Mom has decided to cut me off. Now for those of you who don't already know, my parents are...comfortable as far as finances go. (Read butt-loaded rich) Every once in a while, they'd send a sizeable check (for tax write-off purposes on their end I'm guessing) with the words, "It's your money. Do whatever you want with it." Evidently though, there was fine print I didn't see cuz when I spent mine, she got pissed. But that's a different story altogether. Anyhow, now Mom--in her infinite wisdom--has decided to forego all "wealth transfers" in favor of spending the money on a large undeveloped parcel of land in NC where they spend most of their time in order to make (get this one) a farm. She wants to be a farmer. A farmer, for chrissake. She's not old...only 20 years older than I am...but jesus. Farming? Not to mention the fact that she's worn out from taking care of my dad since his stroke in 1999. I mean worn out. I feel so bad for her sometimes cuz she looks so tired. (FARMING!!!) And we'll add to that that my dad has improved considerably since his stroke, but I don't think farming is gonna be a good pasttime for him either since he still has a lot of heaviness/muscle loss on his right side. He can walk & stuff, but not all that well. Maybe they're thinking about a horse farm, which might actually be a nice idea since my dad does horseback riding therapy, but I didn't ask her to elaborate on her plans. (FARMING, CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE IT???)

Needless to say, I'm disappointed in her decision, especially since I pissed off the hubster by kicking him off all my accounts so he'd have no access to the money. So now he has no access to nothing. (bummer) And you know what else? After the last check my mom sent (my bday last year), she said, "There's more where that came from." She LIED to me. Or misled me. Silly me, I thought that meant she was gonna keep sending me money, which certainly came in handy since disability pay is only 45% of what I used to make before I went looney. Such is life, I suppose.

If she does do the farm thing, I'm going to demand that she and my father pose for a picture American Gothic style. That should be a hoot. I'll keep you posted.

2003-02-01T19:34:00.000-08:00

One last thought. They say that which does not kill you makes you stronger. Bullshit. It merely wears you down until you fucking wish you were dead. And most of those who end up like that are dead in spirit anyway. I think the music may be dying for me...if not, it's at least severely maimed.

2003-02-01T19:27:00.000-08:00

Hey hey hey...it's faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat seekie! We went to see Final Destination 2 tonight. We liked it. It's a good deal gorier than the first one. The barbed wire & the airbag were my fave parts. Then again, I'm a sick bitch, but you all knew that.

Anyhow, nothing much has been going on here except for a spat (?) with the bf. I'm not sure how to categorize what the spat was about, other than to say that it disappoints me greatly that he is unable to stand up for himself and his own rights. For some reason, he feels that his thoughts/feelings are invalid, and that's a fucking crock of shit. I can't stand the way his wife treats him, and I wish by all that's holy that she'd knock it the fuck off. Evidently, now that she appears to be threatened by my presence in both his and their children's lives, she's decided to become more of a raving cunt than usual. For gods' sake woman, lighten up. Why can't she see that what they have is not marriage? It's more like indentured servitude for him. I, for one, believe he's done more than his share of pennance, but that decision is not up to me. I don't expect him to leave her, knowing fully well if he did, nothing would ever get done for those children, whom I love like my own. On the flip side, I don't feel comfortable going to his house anymore if his wife is gonna make his life--or at least try to make it--more miserable than it already is. I don't understand people like that. That much negative energy just drains the fucking life out of you and everyone else around you. Unless, of course, you're being fueled by another source, and I don't believe she's made any pacts with any devils of late. I could be mistaken.

On the home front, things are weirder with my husband. He's miserable. I'm miserable. And there appears that there's absolutely nothing that either of us can do about it except ride it out. I'm not leaving...this is my home. He's not leaving cuz he loves me (although after all I've put him through, only the gods know why he does). Sometimes I wonder vaguely if we could work things out and be happily married, but I know in my heart the answer is no, we can't. And that's really sad. We could stay married, but if both of us are miserable, what's the point? Habit?

I swear it was never my intention to hurt him, and that's all I've seemed to be doing for at least two years. Maybe we never should've married in the first place. He and I discussed that this morning, and truly, I think that's the case. I think that maybe I pushed him into something for which he wasn't ready, and something for which I really wasn't ready either. We have nothing in common, really nothing to talk about, and sadness abounds here. I wish I could love him like I used to, but I can't seem to find it within me to do so. He says all he wants is a happy wife, but with all the other bullshit going on around here--with the kids, my disability, etc.--that's impossible. I don't think that there's any way on this earth that either of us is going to get what we're looking for out of this union. So, we just carry on day to day and hope that it gets better, which it doesn't.

I have nothing else to say about this other than I got myself into it on all counts--the marriage, the unhappiness, the infidelity, the ensuing discord--and I guess I'll have to find a way to get myself out. There may someday be a light at the end of this tunnel, but with my luck, it'll be a freight train. Be careful what you wish for.

2003-01-30T12:55:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm back from da burgh, and aside from a lovely time of nausea & vomiting (after the bf left, of course, although he didn't cause it), I had a great time. Sam, you may now TSK me formally and quite severely. =O) Not only did I attend his daughter's choir concert (with his wife present) and THEN even take her out for a celebratory dinner, the hotel scene was....well, use your imagination. I'm preparing for stringent TSKing.

Ok, thoughts for the day: My reasons to support road rage~~

1) Truckers: Although these people are greatly needed to haul the stuff we can't carry and for various other reasons which Zombie can probably explain better than I can, they SO get on my nerves. Can someone please explain to me why they have to ride the white line, thereby kicking up as much dirt, ice, water, stone, etc. to hit my windshield, and then ride the goddamn yellow line when it gets to a part where my passing them would be legal so I can't see if there are any cars coming the other direction? Sadists.

2) Truckers, part 2: When I'm driving at 70 mph in the hammer lane, and a two trucks are in front of me in the right lane, why is it that the one in back decides he just HAS to pass the one in front of him--remember, their speed limit is 55--right when I'm coming up on his ass? Who died and made them speed limit monitors? And did you ever notice that when one truck is doing 55, the other one also doing 55 takes forfuckingever to pass the first one? Assholes.

3) Truckers, part 3: Just because you're bigger than my mom-mobile doesn't give you the right to slam on your goddamn brakes whenever you fucking feel like it or get in front of me to drive very slowly cuz there's a grade your rig can't handle. MOVE. Dickheads.

4) People who don't know where they're going: If you don't know where the address is that you're looking for, please find another way to locate it other than slamming on your brakes at every street you come to. Morons.

5) People who leave their turn signals on forever: What? Are you driving around the world to the left? This one is especially annoying since if you do want to pass them, you don't know if they're serious about turning or not. Cretins.

6) People who don't use their turn signals: Ok, I could've gone around you, or past you, or even in front of you if I'd just known that you were fucking TURNING! I didn't know turn signals were an option on some model cars, but evidently they are. Or is it that you just wish to surprise me? Bastards.

7) People who slam on their brakes when they see a cop: Bad move, people. If you slam on your brakes, you're as much as admitting guilt. This is especially stupid when the cop has someone already pulled over, and even more so when it's on the other side of a divided highway. He's not coming after you. Trust me. Just let off the gas a little and look innocent. Idiots.

8) Rubberneckers: Now, I know that it's human nature to take perverse interest in the plights of others, especially when there's blood and/or guts involved. However, that's no fucking reason to jam up traffic for miles and miles and miles and miles when you can't see anything anyway. If you really wanna go look, pull over, get out of your fucking car, and go be the lookey-loo that you truly are. Nosy dipshits.

9) Anyone going slower than the speed limit for no apparent reason: This one actually requires nothing else said, but dammit, it's worse when I have to go somewhere, and they're in my way. GET OFF MY FUCKING ROAD OR GET A GODDAMN BICYCLE. Argh--now I'm out of insults. No, wait--cock knockers.

10) People who drive under the speed limit just cuz there's a cop driving the same speed: You know, that speed limit is posted for a reason. Granted, you don't HAVE to comply with it, but if the cop is going slower than the speed limit, there's no law whatsoever that says you can't pass him. The only reasons I'd recommend this are a) your tags are expired or fictitious, b) you're drunk, or c) you have a tail/brake light out. Otherwise, be brave. Drive the speed limit and pass the stupid cop. Christ. Fucktards.

I guess that's enough for now. If you think of anyone I missed, lemme know. Nothing like coming home again...

2003-01-29T10:32:00.000-08:00

On my way to da burgh again....I have to sin deplorably to give Sam something to Tsk me for. See y'all Friday, weather permitting. Don't miss me too much. (LOL)

2003-01-27T20:54:00.000-08:00

Out of sheer morbid curiosity, I surfed the web last night looking for info on viagra. (After the stupidbowl and a couple games of euchre, of course) Anyhow, boy did I find out some interesting things. Not a lot of interesting things, but some. Here they are: Among the side effects are nasal congestion, which made me wonder why the fuck that would happen unless you snorted the shit; and changes in eyesight. Evidently, this medication gives things a bluish tinge. What the fuck is up with that? You'd think if it did ANYTHING to your eyesight, it would make things look bigger, but hey...I didn't invent the drug.

Anyway, further on in my research, I was looking at the contraindications for the drug (i.e., why the drug shouldn't be taken, for those who don't use 50 cent words). One thing that was specifically mentioned was men with abnormally-shaped penises shouldn't take this drug. Now. I searched at least 6 more sites, and nothing further was mentioned about abnormally-shaped penises. Could they have been any more vague? I think these sites need to be more specific. What exactly is "abnormally-shaped?" I figured shaped like a pretzel would be abnormal....perhaps having 2 heads would be abnormal...looking like a Rodin sculpture would be abnormal. But the knowledgeable folks who write this info didn't feel it necessary to elaborate on the subject. So I'm confused. Penises come in all shapes & sizes, folks. I've seen my fair share of them, and I don't think I've ever seen one that was abnormally shaped. Except one, and it freaked me out. Please don't ask me to elaborate. Come to think of it though, I should find that guy and tell him not to take viagra. Or someone should.

On the psychodrama note, we took the boy in today for his eval, and as I suspected (albeit I was practicing w/o benefit of a license), he is not bipolar. He's just depressed. Oh, and angry. Well duh. Anyhow, both he and I like his therapist, and meds are on board. Let's hope we can work this out...and that she doesn't ask him to write down his feelings in a pretty book. If she does though, I'm planning on borrowing one from Cyn so I don't have to buy a new one. She's got 11 for chrissake. ;) And if I'm not gonna write my feelings in MY book, I'll be damned if I'm gonna let the boy write his in there. Psh.

Just so everyone knows...my family is so fucked up, even my dog is on Elavil. He licks his legs until he licks sores on them. Fucking moron. The vet put him on Elavil and then asked me if it was working....I replied, "Well, he's still licking, but he's licking slower." I guess that's a plus. So maybe my kids' and my meds will work and we'll all just go crazier more slowly. Ain't it fun when the ride lasts longer? This is where I giggle maniacally. Call 911 if desired....:D

2003-01-26T15:42:00.000-08:00

I think my therapist is trying to turn me into a shadow of my former self. Or something. She wants me to keep a journal of my feelings about certain things, and I'm not exactly sure how I want to go about that. I can see myself walking around all hunched over--you know, doing the Ozzy shuffle--all dressed in black like some beatnik frantically scribbling little thoughts or emotions. Then again, maybe she wants me to be like a shrink.....just every once in a while say, "Hmmm. Yes. That's interesting." And THEN scribble frantically in some little notebook. I told her that I just have a problem writing down my feelings, and then I cracked up so much I almost peed myself right in the office. She looked at me like she was considering calling 911, then I explained to her that she should just read my blog. Strangely, she declined. I dunno. Some people have no sense of adventure. Either that or the written word has more power or significance than the typed one. Maybe Brig could give me some advice on that one (wink wink).

Anyhow, I bought this beautiful book to use as my journal. It's got a lovely celestial design with kind of a surrealist-hippie style, and I've yet to write a word in it. I suppose that's why I haven't blogged of late. I feel guilty leaving my therapist in the lurch while being all entertaining & shit to you people. Then again, I could be flattering myself. That's the great part about being bipolar...it's never dull. You can have zero self esteem and be incredibly narcissistic at the same time. Then again, sometimes you feel like a Dali painting. At any rate, lately I've been feeling badly drawn, and now I'm going to go do something I never thought I'd do. I'm gonna go watch the stupidbowl. I mean superbowl.

More as it unfolds...And I still love you guys even though the cat apparently has most of my tongue. :)

2003-01-21T19:19:00.000-08:00

Ok, I know I haven't blogged in a while, but I haven't had jack shit to say. Although that's never stopped me before, I felt it necessary to shut the fuck up for a little while. I'm done shutting up now.

Today, as I was waiting to get my hair cut, I picked up a copy of US magazine. What kind of people really thrive on reading this drivel? I mean does anyone really care if J-Lo and Ben Affleck are carrying on some sort of torrid relationship in public? I sure don't. Nor do I care who is the best or worst dressed, and who actually has enough brain cells to pick out an outfit on their own without a "stylist" or "fashion consultant" to help them. I know that I, personally, have been able to dress myself without serious injury or arrest by the fashion police since I was about 3, so I'm thinking that's not such a big deal. Oh yeah, and anyone who doesn't know that basic black dresses are good for formal events by now is a complete cretin. So what if we don't all look like supermodels? So what if we don't wear the lastest fashions from Paris or Milan or wherever. Gods, have you seen some of that shit? I couldn't believe what one designer brought out this last season...these clothes were patterned after Cher's costumes when she was on the Sonny & Cher show. If that shit comes back into fashion, I'm either not leaving the house, or I'm going out naked.

Christ, I thought it was bad enough when my daughter had to have hip-hugger bell-bottoms. At least my son doesn't give a shit. Jeans & whatever top he can find clean is OK for him, although he did go through a very brief period where he thought he had to have the sags & boxers hanging out. He got over it quickly. I'm glad. One time, my daughter's friend's friend was standing outside, and he had his pants halfway down his ass, boxers hanging out, and the crotch of his jeans right around his knees. I went up to him, jerked his jeans down to his ankles, and told him, "Never do things half-assed, son. Either all the way up, or all the way down." That's a good lesson for life I think....write that down.

Ok, I'm shutting up again. Time to go call the bf.

2003-01-17T12:47:00.000-08:00

Back from the burgh....had a great time, as usual....except for one tiny thing. The bf's wife is now pissed off at him and is not talking to him (which might not be a bad thing...). Anyhow, he got home a little late--ok, it was after the kids got up for school--and she was a bit put-out over the whole thing. No, she didn't put out, she WAS put-out. As in pissed off. As in someone's gonna get bitchslapped. Good thing she had to go to work.

Anyhow, her conversation (confrontation?) with me later went as follows. She says, "Guess who didn't come home last night?" (As if I didn't know) I said, "Yeah..." She then says, "I'm not talking to him, and I said, "And?" I don't think that jazzed her either cuz then she said, "Well, he could've telephoned." I said, "Not while he was sleeping." Of course, I had my southern magnolia sweetness smile on my face as I said it, and she stormed upstairs mumbling. Anyhow, we finished up the work we were doing at the house and then returned to the hotel (in time for ER, no less YAY!). She calls at 2fucking37 in the fucking morning spouting some shit about being worried about him driving in the snow, was he gonna be in a ditch, OR was he gonna sleep over with me again. You know, if she's gonna call whenever we're in the middle of something, this could get quite annoying. And as if she's ever been worried about him before.

Now, she knows that we have a relationship. So...my question is this. Was she pissed that he was out with me, or was she pissed that he didn't get home in time to do his chores, i.e. getting the kids off to school. Would she have been AS pissed if he'd been out drinking with the guys? There's no telling what goes on in that woman's head. Gods, it's not like I'm fucking him on the kitchen table in the middle of dinner. Please. She needs to lighten up...she's one of those people who subscribes to the principle that although she may not want to play with her toy, no one else can enjoy it, goddammit. GET A GRIP WOMAN. She made mention one time of my "trying to get her husband." Psh. I already got him. Neener neener neener. And Jeff? Um....nevermind. You know what I was gonna say. I love you anyway. =O)

2003-01-14T22:18:00.000-08:00

Well, today was the daughter's psych eval, and guess what? It would appear that bipolar disorder is hereditary. Imagine that. Anyhow, she is now (with hope) properly medicated, and at least we won't have any more see-if-i-can-fly episodes from my front porch roof. The son's eval is on the 27th, but I don't think they're gonna find him bipolar. He's pretty much polar as he's at the very least consistently homicidal toward his sister. They've both been behaving decently for a while though (knock wood), so maybe the worst is over. Leave me alone. I'm entitled to my delusions, as I've told you before. And if I've said it once, I've said it a million times...I never repeat myself.

Anyhow, I'm off to da burgh tomorrow and will be home Friday. The kids' separate arrangements have been made in order to avoid unsupervised contact (I'm not stoooooopid you know), and all should be well. Should be. Will be is a different matter altogether, but we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, I expect you all to be curled up on your various floors in fetal position whimpering my name until I return. See ya Friday!

2003-01-13T20:58:00.000-08:00

Steve Martin had a song on his Let's Get Small album (I believe) entitled "The Grandmother Song." It's funny. And thinking that it is funny, I strive to be dull, boring, and omnipresent. So here I am again.

Birthday time for the daughter today. I now have two official teenagers. Lucky me. Actually, it wasn't such a bad time. We did the cake thing--minus the icecream--and the doggies even got some. I was going to offer some to the weezoos, but I don't think ferrets are supposed to have that much sugar. They're hyper enough anyway. However, for the first time in a LONG time, everyone got along. Yay! She didn't get that much in the way of presents since Santa was entirely too nice to her for Giftmas and that now infamous roof episode. CPS hasn't been back, btw, in case you were wondering. But all in all, it was a nice evening. Let's hope it stays that way. Cross fingers, legs, eyes, any other appendage(s) you can cross, any Ts you find, and the street. Thanks.

I'm bitterly disappointed in you people for having no comment whatsoever on my blog about farts since it was very well thought out and equally well written. See if I invite YOU to my book-signing party. When I write a book, which I fully intend to do, you're all going to be in it. It won't be nice, either. :P I will, however, devote an entire chapter to zombie's huge cock (which she strokes lovingly) just to make all you guys out there jealous. THAT chapter will be nice and probably flattering since I think she rocks. (which she does) Other than that, it's been business as usual around here. I was successful in my procrastination today and managed to put off at least 6 things that I should have done today. I don't think that's a personal record, but it's in the top five considering that most of them were pretty important. I did manage to straighten out the insurance "glitch," so tomorrow everything should be great on that front.

I broke a mirror the other day, and superstition has it that breaking a mirror brings 7 years of hard luck. Most people think it's "bad" luck, but it's actually "hard" luck. I'm not sure exactly the difference--we may be arguing semantics. Nevertheless, for the moment my luck seems to be changing in the opposite direction, so I'm going to go check and see if I won the lottery last Saturday. If I did, I'll be blogging from Jamaica, or you'll never hear from me again. You decide which is best and let me know.

2003-01-12T20:31:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I said I was gonna abandon the negativity, etc. I find, however, that I cannot pass up this opportunity to tell you guys about the meanest, most selfish cunt on the planet. Although I haven't yet met all the mean, selfish cunts on the planet, I'm sure this one is their queen. She used to be my bf's business partner, and they have since parted ways. From the beginning, I wondered why the hell he had any type of relationship with him at all being that their personalities not only do not mesh, they clash worse than any Hatfields & McCoys. Anyhow, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt and at least try to "make friends." This didn't work because 1) she's a selfish, mean cunt; 2) she's a selfish, mean cunt; and 3) she....well, you get it. This woman is an incredible bitch (not in a good way) and I'm pretty sure she thinks she's the only person in this universe that matters one whit. She may, in fact, have a god complex. I think she's related to Satan...possibly his sister?

The first time we had a falling out, she accused me of using my "gold-plated pussy" (wow, didn't know I had one of those) to distract the bf from the work he should have been doing for her. When he did turn in work, she said it was sloppy and far beneath what she expected. Um....perfection is a myth, sweetie. Anyway, he did his best, and his best wasn't good enough. Ever. Needless to say, this was my fault. Well, mine and that gold-plated pussy. Actually, the problem was that 1) her expectations are beyond what any "normal" person would consider reasonable, even for rush-jobs; 2) she throws temper tantrums when things don't go her way; 3) she relies FAR too heavily on astrological influence; and 4) she's a mean, selfish cunt. Oh yeah...she's also a chickenshit. She makes great threats and doesn't follow through with them, but instead finds someone else to do her dirty work for her. In this case, the person was moi. She manipulated me into giving him an ultimatum that if he didn't shape up, she was going to dissolve the partnership and sue him. I, being the conscientious person that I am, relayed this information to him. THEN, after I did exactly what she wanted me to do, she blew up at me, branding me as untrustworthy, etc. etc. The crux of this dilemma is that she should've figured out that he wanted out anyway and didn't know how to tell her, and she was too cowardly to confront him directly. Gods, I hate being used. (most of the time)

Anyhow, one day she suddenly started talking to me again, and not to be rude, I responded. I tried to keep the conversation light and basically small talk. She rambled on and on about how good her business was since she'd "fired" my bf, and also went off on various tangents concerning black mold, her new crusade. It should've occurred to her that karma is real, and the problems she was having due to the mold, i.e. losing a newly-bought condo, disruption of all every-day activity, and consequent lawsuit may have been the result of her being...oh, I don't know...a mean, selfish cunt? Whatever. She continued to talk to me from time to time, and I continued to keep the conversation as trivial as possible.

A couple of nights ago, she revisisted an old rant that my bf a bad parent--which he isn't, and in fact is one of the best daddies I know. I told her I wasn't going to defend him on that. She knows how I feel, and we should just leave it at the fact that we have different frames of reference and agree to disagree. THEN she had the audacity to tell me that not only was he a bad parent, but so was I. ME? Can you imagine? And her having no children whatsoever, so of course that makes her a good judge. She went so far as to tell me that my daughter's little roof episode (see earlier post) was MY fault, and if I'd been a decent parent instead of fucking someone else's husband, it wouldn't have happened. Gosh, my bad. Oops. She made some vague reference about "all the nights she spent locked up in a hotel room with her brother so I could fuck someone else's husband" (meaning my daughter), but she's out of her mind since the only times those two ever shared a hotel room were 1) when we took my son down to boarding school (and his father and I were in the next room of the suite) and 2) when we went to da burgh overnight once. So....twice is "all those times?" And this precipitated her roof episode how? Then she called me a whore, and a whiner, and said that the only thing I'd ever done for her was get rid of the bf as her business partner. Well excuse me all to hell & back. I didn't know I was supposed to be SERVING her. She also said that my entire family needed psych evaluations.

Ok, so 1) I've already had one; 2) my daughter's is scheduled for Tues; 3) my son will be having one scheduled; and 4) we're going into family counseling. As far as I know, I've done all I can to do the best I can for my kids. Granted, I'm not setting the best example for them by carrying on a relationship with another man besides their step-father, but they can see how happy he makes me and how happy I make him. Gods, they even like him better and respect him more than their step-father anyway. Again, whatever. Anywho...after the scathing venom pouring from her keyboard, she did the cyber equivalent of hanging up on me. That is so juvenile. Besides, I always get the last word, cunt.

So in case you didn't read your offline messages--and I know you're morbidly curious about what goes on in my life and read this blog--let me reiterate. I hope you do well in your business cuz that's all you're gonna have. Stop treating people like they're expendable. You might want to look into having friends that are actually friends--not just tools for getting what you want that can be discarded after their usefulness to you has run its course. In regards to whining--do you have any idea how sick and fucking tired I got about hearing about all your fucking vaginal/uterine/ovarian problems? SHUT UP ALREADY. Like I care about your diseased genitalia. As far as psych evaluations, I may be bipolar, but girlfriend, you have multiple personality disorder, and NONE of your personalities are all that great. You have severe likeability issues. Lastly, I'd like to remind you that you're a selfish, mean cunt, and I hope you've fucked up your karma so badly that you come back as a toilet brush. Or maybe that your next job will be sucking the pus out of boils on people's butts. You are truly the worst excuse for a human being I have ever met. I'm not sure you even are human. I wouldn't wish you on my ex-husband or even my mother.

And btw, in case I forgot to tell you, you're a mean, selfish cunt. Bubbye now! :)

2003-01-11T23:55:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Farts 101. I heard it said once that everything that lives, breathes, and eats also farts. Since I was raised in a "proper" household, one did not pass gas where anyone else could hear it. In fact, I remember my mother running at Olympic speed toward the bathroom since she had gas and didn't want to offend anyone olfactorily. Or whatever. One time she went into the bathroom with the Dayton phone book. She caught my eye right before she closed the door, and I asked "Gonna be in there a while?" But I digress.

Anyway, there are, of course, all types of farts. I even saw a book in the Nature Store written specifically about them. It's called The Fart Book. Pretty imaginative, huh? AND it was like $13.50. I figured I knew enough about farting not to buy the book. I figure I know that there are farts that smell, and farts that don't. There are farts that smell like what you ate, and farts that smell like something crawled up your ass and died. I was also told by an ex-boyfriend in college that if you eat White Castle hamburgers, the farts they generate smell exactly the same. Interesting. My ex-husband used to take perverse joy in farting before I got into bed and holding the covers down so that I got the full effect when I fluffed the sheets to get into bed. He would be beside himself when he did this when I was pregnant because it would send me out of the room gagging. Honestly, he would laugh until he cried. However, I got him back since when I was pregnant with my daughter, I had worse gas than anyone has ever had on the planet and sent him (and myself, actually) out of the room gagging. Anyway....

I would like to state here that I am still embarassed as hell to fart in front of my boyfriend, a fact which he finds incredibly amusing. Especially when it makes me blush. He, on the other hand, has elevated farting to an artform. Much of the art is in the presentation. I especially love the naked-half-erect-cheerleader-jump fart. That one has a difficulty rating of at least 14. I almost usually applaud, and I'd wolf-whistle if I could, but alas I am unable to do so. Still, I believe he appreciates my appreciation.

Anyway, I'd like to take this opportunity to list here the farts which I think are the most unpleasant, smell notwithstanding:

1) The farts that surprise you. Sneaky little bastards. Sometimes they're even frightening, and usually most embarassing.
2) The farts that have sharp edges. You should know what I mean about that, and if you don't, consider yourself lucky.
3) The farts that stay trapped in your underwear/pantyhose/jeans, etc. For christ's sake, get out of there.
4) The farts that roll up and slap you in the clit. Obviously, this does not apply to males. Although it gives me pause to wonder if they have farts that rattle their balls. According to the bf, this only happens while lying in a bathtub (filled with water, I"m guessing).
5) The farts that are just a little more than a fart. Let's not go too far into this one.

I must relate to you a story about my daughter when she was 6. We went to Payless Shoes, and she was sitting in the next aisle away from me on one of those rubber mats onto which you place your foot to see what size shoes you wear. She was sitting with her legs askew, and farted. I believe the rubber mat acted as an amplifier, and the noise was almost deafening. She was not embarassed, and in fact, was very proud of herself. She hollered, "Mom! Did you hear that?" I replied, "I think they heard it in Guam, Kate." She was beaming and said, "That was almost as loud as daddy's!" I wanted to leave the store without her and deny that she was my child, but she looks like me, so it was kinda impossible. Everyone in the store was amused however.

Anyway, I'll leave you with this final thought: "Confucius say: he who fart in church, sits in his own pew." Ha ha.

2003-01-11T20:47:00.000-08:00

It's that time again, folks....time for the Seekie show. Sorry (god) that I haven't yapped on here for a while, but strangely, I've had nothing to say. Miracle, huh? And speaking of god (sort of) let's talk about "god" (sort of).

For Giftmas, I received from my mother two books: one entitled The Case for Christ and the other entitled Can I Believe? I know she has good intentions--forgetting that they pave the road to hell--and is concerned for my (a)moral soul. Evidently, she didn't get the memo that I auctioned my soul on e-bay. I needed drug money. Anyway, I grew up in a Stark-raving Baptist household for most of my life, and if I didn't buy into it then, what makes her think I'm going to buy into it now? I can't bring myself to look at either book and instead shelved them with the rest of my so-called religious section. Most of those books are pagan/witchcraft related although there are some Bibles in there that were given to me as gifts over the years. I hope the books don't decide to start a holy war being that close to each other. Crusades are murder on the bookshelves. (no pun intended, but it was funny, wasn't it?)

When I first blogged and was describing myself, I said I was calling myself an eclectic pagan but then again I could call myself a blender and it wouldn't make it true. My mom keeps on me about going to church. I told her that going to church won't make me christian any more than being in the garage would make me a car. She doesn't get it. Perhaps she feels that I'm not exposed to enough of the brainwashing for it to take. Now, for those of you who ARE christian (and I doubt that many who read this ARE), I'm sorry if I offended you. But hey...I didn't really believe the greek myths when I read them either. Although frankly they made more sense.

As for what I DO believe....you got me. Maybe that's part of my problem. I believe there's some sort of higher power, but I don't know what to call him/her/it. Ergo, Atheism is out. The pagan routes seem to make the most sense of all, but there's a lot of stuff I haven't studied yet. I don't think Buddhism is for me, cuz I'm to materialistic. Hinduism is also probably out, cuz hey...beef...it's what's for dinner. Taoism I know nothing about. Islam I know nothing about, but I think that just might be dangerous this day and time. You know, I told the shrink (the old shrink) that I felt a need for spirituality and he asked me why I felt the need for it. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, I JUST DO! Sheesh. I think he was probably Satan. (how conveeeeeeeeeeeenient)

Maybe I'll just stick to being a Frisbeeterian. You know...they believe when you die, your soul floats up to the roof and gets stuck there. Wouldn't be so bad, I guess...unless like the house fell down or something. Maybe you can move to a better roof. I'll have to look into that and get back to you. In the meantime, I think it's safe to say that I'm not going to be a christian, no matter how many books my mom gets me. Do you think I should send her Vivienne Crowley's book on Paganism? I don't suppose it matters what I do, since according to her, I'm going to HAIL. (She's southern)

Most people go to HAIL in a handbasket, don't they? I think I'll take a luge. WOOHOO! Fast-track me, baby. With my morals I should get there in no time.

2003-01-08T12:13:00.000-08:00

Goin to da burgh tonight...be back tomorrow night. (Before ER, of course) Ya'll play nice in my absence. And god...I miss your presence in my life. Thank you for letting me know you still exist. (weiner)

2003-01-07T22:43:00.000-08:00

Ok, I thought I'd abandon the angst, etc. and ask you guys some questions that have really been plaguing me. (did I spell that right? plaguing?) Anyway...here's the first one. You know that kids' song called B-I-N-G-O? This song is quite misleading. Take the first line: There was a farmer had a dog, and Bingo was his name-o. Now. Was Bingo the farmer's name or the dog's name? Unclear antecedent there....quite confusing. Secondly....if Bingo was his name-o, wouldn't Bing be his name? I swear. Secondly....what the fuck was that sadist thinking who wrote "Rock-a-bye baby?" And where was CPS when all this treetop rocking and subsequent falling was going on? Furthermore, why do we sing these songs to our children? And TEACH them to sing them, so they can someday teach their children? OH THE HUMANITY! STOP THE MADNESS. I won't even venture to make comments on Barney and those Teletubbies, although I will admit that from time to time, I do have impure thoughts about La-la. It's a sickness, I know. I'm working on it.

Speaking of children, I read (and commented on) Zomb's latest post about kids and those who think that others shouldn't have them. Now I agree, there are certain people who shouldn't breed. Sadly, my ex-husband was one of them, but I got two great kids out of the deal who sometimes behave themselves and act like human beings. Quite a feat for teenagers. Nonetheless, I would like to reiterate my theory here as to why people decide to have children. I sincerely believe that people decide to have children when they're sick and fucking tired of doing housework. Kids are built-in slave labor. At least that's why I had kids. I think. Actually, I was asleep when Ian was conceived, and Kate's conception was an error in judgement although I wouldn't trade her for the world. I'm not sure Ian's ever going to forgive me for having her, but those are the breaks kid. When you get old enough, you can grow your own slave labor and let them duke it out. AND when your kids are fighting, here's my best suggestion. Make popcorn. It's quite entertaining at times.

Now, as to those of you who find it necessary to comment on other people's decisions to have children because you yourself think that kids are a drain on the society, etc. etc., piss off. And furthermore, don't give advice on how to raise them if you don't have any. After all, they're OUR drains on OUR society, so you have nada to add that we really give a rat's ass about. And you know what? Having kids is kinda like having anchovies on pizza. If you don't like anchovies, don't order any. If you don't want kids, don't get pregnant. And please have the good grace not to opine as to how gross anchovies really are to those who like them. You don't have to eat them. Get my drift?

2003-01-07T13:59:00.000-08:00

Thought you might like this one...and although it's a joke, I thought you might think it would sound like something I'd do...

I went to the store the other day, and I was in there for only about 5 minutes. When I came out there was a damn motorcycle cop writing a parking ticket. So I went up to him and said, "Come on, officer, how about giving me a break?" He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. So I called him a pencil-necked Nazi. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So I called him a piece of horseshit. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote. I didn't care. My car was parked around the corner. I try to have a little fun each day. It's important.

Something else occurred to me today...an epiphany of sorts. When my kids tell me they hate me, it doesn't mean I'm a bad mother, it means I'm a good one. If they hate me, I'm doing something right. Granted, I took most of my parenting classes from Roseanne Barr (i.e., if you're going to eat cookies before dinner, use a goddamn plate), but still....I must be doing something right. So much of parenting is trial and error--I've just been seeing the error.

I'd also like to point out that the quickest way to irritate a parent--well, a good one anyway: my cunt of a sister doesn't count--is to imply lacking in their parenting skills. One time, when Ian was little (2-ish?), we were eating dinner in an Italian restaurant with a friend of mine where they give the kids crayons with which to color in the sad hope that it will keep them occupied and not screaming at the top of their lungs. Anyhow, the woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but your son is eating crayons." I thanked her for being such an observant person (read: nosy bitch) and promptly told Ian to stop eating the crayons. Ian, being 2-ish, asked why. I thought for a second and replied, "Because they'll spoil your dinner." The woman behind me was aghast at my answer, but truthfully, what better reason was there? Christ, crayons aren't toxic. The most they'll do is maybe spoil his appetite, probably make his teeth an amusing color for a little while, and definitely make for some pretty interesting diapers, artistically speaking. Anyway, this woman was horrified, and I did the worst thing I could think of to do to her. I smiled. Magnolia-blossom sweetly. And thanked her again. Some people should mind their own business; otherwise, they're just asking for it. Sarcasm is our friend. And sarcasm LOVES nosy busybodies.

The upshot of this is: I've realized I'm a good mother no matter WHAT those ungrateful brats I'm raising say, and if anyone else thinks differently...keep it to yourself. Or go fuck yourself with a crayon. And always remember (this is important, write it down): never fuck with the psycho bitch. We're all entitled to our delusions, right?

2003-01-06T23:19:00.000-08:00

Ok...the humongous (although humorous) pm from my NEW BEST FRIEND in India, Pakistan, or wherever has been deleted. I didn't think he was important enough to keep up for any length of time. Suffice it to say the pm progressed from "I want u" to "u r a dog in the street." Gosh. And we were getting along SO well.....

2003-01-06T21:59:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I've mentioned it or not--I probably have, but I have the tendency to repeat myself--but a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I stopped watching soap operas. I realized I was living one. Things improved after a while, but you know what I noticed recently? God DAMN if I'm not right back in it. See? They resurrect characters all the time, so I guess it was just my turn.

The daughter re-entry into the house was pretty peaceful....but the son wig-out today was completely uncalled for. Only one person in this household has earned the right to throw temper tantrums, and it ain't no fucking teenager, lemme tell you what. Anyhow, the whole thing started with school being canceled and his subsequent hope that his gf would be able to come over and spend the day with him. Turns out her grandmother--with whom she lives--is a bigger weirdo than I am and said "No, it's still a school day," thereby dashing his hopes and setting the mood for the rest of the day. (can you hear the dramatic music swelling now?) Anyway, he spent most of the day on his phone with said girlfriend, and I spent most of the day on my phone trying to figure out why they felt it necessary to traumatize my 12 year old even further during her brief hospital stay by giving her a pregnancy test 1) after she said she wasn't sexually active, 2) when they weren't going to medicate her, and most of all 3) WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. Evidently, this is standard practice, and I intend to speak to someone very harshly about it. But that's a different story.

So where was I....oh yeah. Anyway, this morning at 7:15, the son promised mommy he would shovel the driveway "later." I, being frustrated and tired after my myriad of phone calls this AM, went to take a nap about 2-ish. At 4:30-ish, the husband calls to make sure what he's supposed to pick up for me from the pharmacy, and I discover that the good son has NOT indeed shoveled the driveway as promised, but instead is napping himself (after being up all goddamn night last night--his problem, not mine). A promise is a promise, so I stormed upstairs & yelled at him to get his lazy ass out of bed and go shovel the driveway before dad got home & yelled at ME. This action on my part caused a strange reaction on his part...he started to cry like a little bitch. Which of course, didn't get the driveway shoveled, and made me angry. So, I started yelling. Then screaming. Then threatening grounding him from contact with his girlfriend. And then some more yelling. He just sat there and cried despite my (loud, angry, militant) caring queries of what seemed to be his major malfunction (numbnuts)? He never answered me, which made me a little peeved, so I stormed back downstairs--still yelling and with much slamming of doors--to shovel the goddamn driveway myself. The husband called back after a little while, so I yelled at him too. I'm an equal-opportunity yeller, you see. I shouldn't have done that though...cuz I knew it would precipitate much comfort, consoling, and love (read: smothering) on his part when he got home. Anyhow, he told me to forget the driveway, he'd get it with the tractor thingy when he got home. Didn't have to ask me twice--nope, no arm-twisting here. THEN the son came downstairs and yelled at ME (can you imagine?) that (with great drama--to rival his sister, in fact) I had taken away the "MOST IMPORTANT THING in his life. And furthermore, I KNEW he hated it when he got yelled at when he first woke up.

I calmly replied--with great sweetness, too--that he KNEW that when he ignored me, it made me feel like putting his head through the nearest wall, and furthermore I am unstable as yet. Now....who do you think is more dangerous to whom? Hmmmm?" Yes. I did it. I went Dirty Harry on his ass. Do you feel lucky, punk? Anyway, he stormed out the front door and walked the almost 2 miles to his gf's house. I figured if he wanted to take on her nutzier-than-I-am grandmother, more power to him.

Oh, and my mom finally responded to me, but only after I bugged her. I hate that. It's rude. When I ask you a question, answer me. Don't ask me another question. Don't hem and haw. Don't repeat the question I just asked you. AND DON'T FUCKING IGNORE ME. She says she's not mad at me, but SHE can't make my life better. And how could she, when she's the one who started it off rotten in the first place. (whatever) Then she proceeds to tell me that my father's hand is broken as a result of the fall he had after giftmas BUT that wasn't my fault. Ok. I still feel bad. And I don't care what she says, it WAS my fault. I'm sorry daddy. :(

On the upside...there were no fights with the daughter today. In fact, she was downright helpful. I got the game-room cleared of the gargantuan barbie house my husband and his father built for my daughter for giftmas like 5 years ago with which she never plays, and managed to find a power strip when I actually was looking for one (not tripping over it) to plug in all game systems AND the alarm clock in the game room. Now all we need is a vacuumer.

If tomorrow goes like today went, I'm running away, goddammit. I'm going to God's house. He said I could come there if I wanted (cuz he'll be at his mom's). Personally, I think I'd like it at HIS mom's better than MY mom's, but we'll have to see, I guess. I could go to Zomb's house, but she's having enough company soon enough. I don't think she needs my bullshit anyway, being that she has enough of her own. Shit. I need new friends my husband/family don't know about. I couldn't disappear if I wanted to. Maybe if ran to Mexico.....or maybe I'll drive. I'm not much on running unless I'm being chased. And even then, it depends on who's doing the chasing.

Ok, now I need more tea & more cigarettes. And I think I'm gonna go live with the Osborne's. I can do a decent English accent....

2003-01-05T00:11:00.000-08:00

Ok, I typed this earlier, but for some stupid reason, I pushed the sign out button instead of post & publish...so here goes take two:

Earlier today, I was taking a lovely nap when my son came up at 2:30 to wake me and give me my meds. I turned over to grab whatever he was giving me to drink with them, and accidentally slapped the bottle, spilling ice-cold water all over myself & the bed. He thought that was funny. Anyway, he told me to get up, I said ok, and then as soon as he left, promptly rolled over and went back to sleep. He came back upstairs later & told me to get up. I said, "I am up." He argued with me for about 5 mintues, whereupon I told him I'd been up since he poured icy water all over me. He (indignantly) replied, "YOU HIT THE BOTTLE." I blearily opened one eye, looked at him and said, "Ian, you know I don't drink." He chuckled and then mused that I was wittier than he was even when I was half asleep. Well what did he expect?

Anyway, I got up...cuz I knew he'd just keep coming up there...and went downstairs. My husband held out his arms for a hug, so I collapsed on my husband, and told him that Ian had called me a drunk and a half-wit. Consequently, Ian was smacked by his girlfriend who told him, "Be nice to your mother, ass!" He got all belligerent and tried to explain what had "really" happened--when everyone knows that perception is reality....really--and then I looked at my husband and said, "See?" and sighed really big. So Ian's gf smacked him again. That'll learn the little bastard. Fuck with MY nap, willya. ;)

Thus ends the highpoint of my day. I'm going to finish talking to god now. And god, I'd like to say--in front of you and everyone--that I'm extra proud of you tonight. You know why, and I'm planning to applaud until I get blisters on my hands. :)

2003-01-03T19:35:00.000-08:00

I hadn't heard from my mother except for a VERY brief happy new year kinda thing right after the fact since we'd left NC, so I e-mailed her & asked her if we weren't speaking. Sometimes, I'm not sure. Anyway, she wrote me back & said that she was tired, sick, a little depressed....and that she'd had all she could handle, let's leave it at that. So, I'm interpreting that to mean she's mad at me. I know she has other things going on in her life, but I'm incredibly self-centered, so it has to be about me. After all, everything else is about me, so why shouldn't this be as well? I don't think I've done anything more recent than when we were in NC, but then again, I never know about that too. I wanted to call and ask her if she was mad at me, but my younger and much wiser sister said to e-mail her...it was safer. Kid's got a good head on her shoulders. So, I did, and we'll wait for the reply. Or no reply. Whichever comes first. I still know it's about me.

On the home front--and the extended home front--the errant daughter is now begging to come home, but we're leaving things as they are until Sunday. She's calmed down considerably, but is now in the woe-is-me stage. You know the one--nobody likes me, everybody hates me....we'll cook her up a mess of worms & see how she likes that. She keeps telling me she hates herself, and that she can't change. I keep telling her she's full of shit, and she CAN change, but she's gotta want to. Reminds me of that joke about how many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb (only one, but the lightbulb REALLY has to want to change). I've come to the conclusion through all this that kids are by no means qualified to handle the turmoil of adolescence. In fact, we should forego adolescence altogether and maybe make it some sort of punishment. Replace the death penalty with it. You are hereby sentenced to be completely screwed up, awkward, and hate yourself for at least 5-10. Who knows. Maybe it could work.

Then again--and I'm basing this on most of the ppl zombie pms with--most people don't ever exit their adolescence anyway. But look on the bright side. If they did, Springer would most certainly be out of business.

2003-01-02T19:44:00.000-08:00

Ok, I know I said earlier I was going to try to be more positive...wait a minute. No I didn't. Fuck positive. GUESS WHAT FESTIVITIES WE HAD TODAY, KIDS???? A visit from none other than....Children's Services. Yay! Who could ask for more? But to put this in perspective, when I saw the women at my door with briefcases, I was actually praying for them to be Jehovah's Witnesses. No such luck. Anyway, they asked if they could come in, and I told them it was a bad time since we were making preparations for the orthodontist. They were unimpressed and said it would only take a minute, could they PLEASE come in? I'm surprised they didn't bat their eyelashes for me. Maybe they should've...I'm a sucker for that. They'd have gotten in sooner.

Anyhow, I stepped outside (in my shorty PJs, no less) and asked them "What if I say no?" They ever so subtly suggested that they could call the legal department, and I was unimpressed. I told them I didn't want them in my house, and furthermore, I would be thrilled to explain to them why. They dared to start to interrupt me, but evidently, my reputation has not preceeded me to the department of child welfare, so I firmly told them to let me finish. I think this surprised them. Anyway, I proceeded to tell them that I didn't want them in my house because:

1) CPS is the least-policed government agency there is, and I think most of the people who work there are apathetic morons;
2) CPS has a nasty habit of removing children from loving homes due to some stupid glitch (read human moment) on the part of either the parent or the child;
3) CPS has another nasty habit of returning children to homes where the parents never should've been given license to breed in the first place; and finally,
4) I had already done everything in my power to make sure that my child was in a safe place and that psych consults were scheduled.

The first lady kind of blinked several times at me, and then regained her composure, asking to speak to my daughter. Now you kind folks know that I removed my daughter from harm's way and sent her to my cousin's so we could all have a cooling off period. I told the "ladies" the same information. She then asked for my cousin's phone number, which I refused to provide. I sighed VERY heavily and called my cousin on her cell, telling her to bring my daughter home so she could converse with these lovely women representing her "best interest." HA! Aime made admirable time, and had Kate home in about 10 minutes. In the meantime, I told the women they could come in, but the house was a wreck since I hadn't gotten my shit back together since we returned from NC. We went over the story of "the incident" after much quoting of social security numbers, etc., and then they wanted to talk to my daughter. I went and took a shower at this point--since we were going to be running late for the ortho--so I don't know what was said. They didn't remove her from the house immediately, so I'm taking that as a dubious good sign. THEN they wanted to talk to my son and asked him (almost 15, I remind you) if he knew the difference between a good touch and a bad touch, if he used drugs or alcohol, and if he got along with people in the household. Frankly, I expected him to say that at least he knew what a good touch was...he does, after all, have a girlfriend. However, he remained professional. Then the first woman asked him, "We ask kind of stupid questions, don't we?" Ian replied, "Most of the time, I'm guessing." I giggled. Gotta love that kid's sense of humor.

So then the evil CPS workers left, and Ian & I went to the ortho. Not much else happened except we stopped by Best Buy only to find out that Animal House is out of print on DVD. What the fuck is up with that? What ARE those people thinking??? Maybe I'll call Springer after all.

2003-01-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that the things I write in my blog are not all that positive. In my defense, I'd like to say that this should explain why I don't watch soap operas...being that I live in one. As I told a respondent to my earlier post, at least no one has called me to appear on Springer. Yet. If this happens, I'll be sure to drag out my hotpants & tube top. Do they allow smoking on Springer? If not I guess I could just leave the Marlboro hanging out of my mouth. I don't think I'll do the haircurler thing though...I just won't bathe for like a week prior to the show. And call Tami Faye Bakker to get a makeup lesson. I'll put all that on my possibly to-do list.

While we're on the subject of springer, can you actually imagine getting a call from them? "Hello, Mr/Mrs. John Q. Public...we have someone who wants you to appear on our show on their behalf, but we're not telling you why." Well, sure Jerry. I'd love to. NOT. Listen, if they won't tell you who, and the sureasfuck won't tell you WHY---JUST SAY NO. That's important. Write that down. I don't actually even watch Springer. Sometimes it'll be on the TV and I walk by to "hear" it, but since they bleep out so much of the dialog it sounds so much like one of those emergency broadcast warnings, I tend not to stay for very long. Not to mention that I think actually watching the show & paying attention makes you lose IQ points. This would explain the large viewing area amongst those who are usually ON the show eventually. It pains me greatly that my daughter finds all of this so amusing and watches it with some regularity, if not religiously.

Hey...maybe her outburst the other day was a Springer effect. That must be it! I haven't failed as a parent, and she couldn't help it. It was TV influence. I'm suing Jerry. I knew there was a way I could get rich off that son of a bitch. In the meantime, I'm off to the shower to prepare for the venture into public for the ortho appt. I suppose I should wake my son since the orthodontist wants to see him and not me. More as it unfolds. Maybe I should change my name to Jerry Seeker?

2003-01-02T00:21:00.000-08:00

Ok, peace at last. The offending daughter (or you may insert Exorcist language her, if you so desire) is staying at my cousin's til school starts again, mostly so my son didn't go homicidal on her ass, leaving her in the morgue and him in jail. That would've been bad. Are we clear on the good/bad issue? I knew you'd dig me, baby. Anyhow, I'd like to thank all of you who actually give a flying fuck what I write in this thing, and for your comments and support in my time of mental melt-down. However, I would like to caution you against visiting me at my home as this phenomenon appears to be contagious. Let's hope my son & husband--either with or without provocation--can withstand the virus. Especially since they're both bigger than I am. And me with no firearm.

I got zero done today, which I think bodes well for the new year. I did NO laundry, I washed NO dishes, and I sat around on my ever-widening ass eating chocolate-covered cherries & boysenberry fiestas and watching movies. If I could only get paid for this, I'd be in heaven. Now, you can get paid for this...in two ways: one is called welfare, and the other is called disability. I hate welfare, so it's a good thing I'm on disability. Now if only we can get these insurance issues resolved. I am pleased to report that I finally got a check, so at least there's money coming in. Not rolling in, you understand, but it's income anyway. I am also pleased to report that the new meds (and increase in the old ones) ordered by Mr. Smart Shrink appear to be doing good things in this clusterfuck I call my mind. Maybe I'll get better after all....that is if my kid doesn't drive me over the edge again.

Life may be returning to some semblance of normalcy tomorrow...there's the laundry & dishes to do, and the ortho appt for the boy...no shopping though, even though I need to return this hideous sweater my mother bought for me at Old Navy. First of all, it's a turtleneck. I don't wear those. Second, it's wool, so it's itchy. And third, it's horizontally striped, which makes me look like the michelin man's wife. Not a good look for me. It's gotta go. However, as I've been having a good day today, and I'm hoping that tomorrow will be good as well, I'm thinking shopping is not a good idea. In the meantime, I'm going to play snood for a while. I think they feel neglected.

And again, to those of you who love me--or at least put on a good pretense of it--thanks for the support, etc. I'll remember you all in my will. It'll say: To the chatters of Rel 1 and/or Pagan Lake: I remember you! :)

2002-12-31T09:29:00.000-08:00

And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Drama Series goes to.....my 12 year old daughter, who decided to have a wig-out of such epic proportions, the entire neighborhood, the police, and emergency medical services were overwhelmed by the performance. Several of them were moved to tears. I think she shows promise for more of the same quality of performance for years to come. Truly an outstanding show of IDIOCY. So here's what happened....basically, she got ratted out by my son's gf that she was at a motel party with two 16 year old guys. May I remind you that she's 12? Additionally, she was drinking (screwdrivers) and smoking (at least she wasn't stealing my cigs this time). And she wonders why we don't trust her. Anyway, when we went to pick her up from her friend's (partner in crime) house, I not only confronted her in front of her friend and her friend's grandmother, I ratted out her friend as well. I'm sorry folks, I believe in letting kids make their own mistakes, but not when those mistakes can have serious and permanent consequences. Kids will be kids, and kids will be STOOPID. We all know that. We've all been there. And we also know that no matter what we say, they won't listen.

Well, to make a long story short (I know, too late), in the car, Kate threatened to shoot and/or stab me and my son's gf, turn a gun on herself, slit her throat, run away, and a bunch of other stuff that by that time I was too mad to listen to. She also got into a physical fight with my son's gf who now has a broken finger. My daughter, however, has one hell of a shiner, so I guess maybe they might be even. I'm not sure how that works when you're a teenager. Once we got home, my daughter ran to her room, and when I went up to talk to her, she decided to climb out onto the roof and threaten to jump. Of course, I called 911 immediately, and one of my lovely neighbors took it upon themselves to call Children's Services--you know, just in case I forgot. I dispatched my husband outside immediately to make sure my stupid moron of a kid didn't jump off the roof--or at least to catch her or break her fall if she DID, and I stood at her open window trying to coax her back into the house. She wasn't out of our sight until the cops arrived, and one of them crawled out the window as well to have a lovely conversation with my daughter in the middle of the night on a wet and somewhat icy roof. Makes you wanna be a cop, don't it? I was just about to go downstairs and talk to the other officer when I heard my daughter plaintively ask, "May I please go inside and get some dry clothes on?" I'm such a mean mother, making my kid stay out on the roof like that without a coat when it was raining. Honestly. Anyway, he got her inside, she got changed, she went to the cruiser & they chatted for a while.

In the meantime, I had to explain to the other officer what had transpired, and THEN we all got to go to the hospital. My daughter was transported via ambulance (I'm gonna hate to see that bill), and I followed shortly thereafter. Guess what? The hospital's mental ward here doesn't admit children under the age of 14. So, I got to take this charming child home with me after she threatened to kill me in several ways, stated vehemently that not only did she not want to live with me but that I was a whore and she hated me, and decided she wanted to live with her father (who hasn't been there for her since about 1996, so of course, that makes perfect sense). She continued while at the hospital to be mouthy and just chock full of attitude, and the doctor told her several times that she needed to respect all adults, especially her mother. I debated telling him she'd need a dictionary to understand what the word respect means, but I thought better of it. Sometimes, sarcasm can't be our friend. Anyway, we eventually were released, and we had a cheerful ride home, complete with slamming of doors and kicking of seats.

My daughter called her father upon arriving home, demanding that he come and pick her up. He was patient (I think) and explained to her that was not an option at present, and even if it were, a great deal of negotiation and paperwork has to be completed. So poor Kate...she's stuck living with a mother, step-father, and brother who "don't love her," "have never loved her," and "don't trust her." WELL, CHRIST ON A POPSICLE STICK...I WONDER THE FUCK WHY???? I'll have you know that I was a responsible parent and made her an appointment with my shrink's office for evaluation. Unfortunately, they can't get her in for a couple weeks, so I'm sure she'll continue to be her regular ray of fucking sunshine self until such time as we can get her straightened out.

So....we don't trust her. That's why I allowed her to go to her friend's house for weekends at a time....why I allowed her to go to the movies with said friend (when I didn't know that a 16 year old kid was driving them and then taking them to a motel)...why I allowed her to hang out at the skating rink and/or the mall without my direct supervision, etc. etc. etc. Oh, and I never do anything for her either...those clothes she has, all the Christmas presents, the roof over her head and the food in her belly just miraculously appeared, and of course, I stood idly by and ignored her and didn't trust her. I kept her down, man. DOWN. She's "my little dog." I think EVERYONE should have at least 10 kids so they can have just this much fun. I wouldn't want to hog it all for myself.

Happy fucking new year.

2002-12-30T20:33:00.000-08:00

Ok, back from Dr. Shrink--who thinks that hospitalization is NOT necessary (yay!)--and back from the ER after my daughter's wig-out. However, that's another blog. Now I have a headache, and I'm going to go watch a movie. I'll blog more later. Cyabye.

2002-12-30T11:57:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm back from NC, and I'm also back from da burgh again. That's a long story, but hell...you've got time, so I'm gonna share. The saga begins (or continues) from NC, so we'll start there. You've already heard the story about my stupid cunt of a sister, so I won't repeat that. However, I will say that I am most proud of myself for not punching the bitch or talking to her for the remainder of the time we were there. Anyhow all that shit happened on the 25th....let's continue to the 26th. I woke up that morning in a fairly decent mood--an unfamiliar concept to me, at best, but I handled it well. Anyhow, I was in the kitchen with my husband and my dad when I noticed this weird looking thing on the ceiling of the room. You know those old-timey doorbells that look like breasts? You know, like half a ball with a button thingy in the middle? Well, there was one of those on the ceiling. Now I, being an outside-of-the-box thinker, thought that was a strange place for a doorbell, so I asked my dad about it. Then I started to go off on a tangent about buttons on the floor for calling servants, etc., and my dad (who had a stroke in 99) decided that he needed to explain to me what that thing was. He got up suddenly, and the chair, the rug, and his feet went out from under him. Consequently, he fell, cracking his head on the cabinet on the way down. After he assured us he was ok--which he wasn't: his hand was VERY swollen, he explained to me that it was part of the fire suppression system. Now. I'm not usually a martyr, but for some reason, I have claimed all responsibility for my father's fall and his subsequent injury. You may tell me until you are blue in the face that it was not my fault, but if I hadn't been intent on knowing what the ceiling thingy was, he wouldn't have fallen. So shut up and let me be a martyr. It's my right. Anyway, I felt very bad...shed more than a few tears, and I still feel bad. Reportedly, my dad is ok, but I still feel bad. I'm going to continue to feel bad. Accept it, let's move on.

Next, my cunt of a sister decided to make some sort of mumbled comment to me, and I glared at her with a look that would've killed anyone else. My mother then says to me, "Are we going to have a stressful week?" I said, "No, mother. I'll just leave." I was NOT (for once) being a smartass, I was being what I thought was reasonable. If I'm the one causing the stress, or if I'm the one having the problem, I should leave. Makes sense, right? Anyhow, as soon as I said something about leaving--and for the record, I was planning on leaving the following morning--mom jumps right on that idea and starts pushing us out the door. In the meantime, amongst my packing, etc., Mom decides to take Kate to the drug store to have all the photos developed that everyone took with their instant cameras Satan--er Santa--left us in our stockings. So I decide to be helpful. I washed the sheets on which my children were sleeping as well as the ones on which my husband and I were sleeping. I picked up the room we were staying in, made sure we hadn't forgotten anything, and gave the bathroom a quick once-over. Mom comes back and says, "Are you ready to go yet?" to which I replied that I still had stuff in the dryer in order to get that room ready for the others who were going to sleep there. Every 5 minutes or so, mom would ask if we were ready to go yet, and/or aren't you supposed to be going? Thanks. I just LOVE it when I'm welcomed with such warmth. Anyhow, I was planning on driving since I'd slept practically all day (avoidance behavior) and my husband was tired. Then I went outside to the car, and guess who was in the driver's seat??? You guessed it. The husband. So I screamed at him to let me fucking drive, and he said no. I gave up, and we left; embarking on a 9 hour drive back to Ohio. Although I must interject here that my mother said to my husband (like I wasn't standing RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER) "Make her stop." Now, she meant make me stop as in don't drive straight thru to Ohio, but I, of course, took it wrong. Whatever. She probably said it to bug me anyway.

Part III: The drive home. Here's where it gets good. We drove for a long time, and then we drove some more. After that, we drove a little. Anyway, my husband decides that he's hungry, so we stop at Wendy's to take advantage of their late-nite drive-thru. Thank you, Dave Thomas. Anyway, my husband does the ordering: 2 triple combos with coke (which he said were for my daughter), 2 jr. bacon cheeseburgers for my son, a double combo with only mayo & lettuce on the burger for me (and dr. pepper to drink), and a spicy chicken sandwich for himself. I would like to point out here that I specifically asked him if both those triples were for Kate, and he said YES. I would also like to point out that the above is a prime example why I can't finish college--my mind is full of useless information, so I can't fit anything good in there. Anyway, when it was food-divvying time, my double wasn't in there. So I got pissed, but marked it up to the ceiling on the IQ for working at ANY fast food place. If any of you work in a place like that and understood that, you're overqualified. Get out, now. But I digress....my husband next THROWS a triple cheeseburger at me and says then eat that. I said I thought those were both for Kate, and he says no, he ordered one for himself. (which he didn't) Anyway, I gave it back to Kate, and he pulls over to the side of the road. I tell him to get the fuck out of the car. He does so. I walk around to the driver's side, get it, and lock the passenger door. Yes, I was going to leave him on the highway in VA. At night. When it was cold. Of course, Kate gets upset and starts whining the that's-my-daddy bullshit at which point she unlocks the passenger door, he opens it, and I scream he is NOT your dad. He stands there, looking stupid, and I said, well get in the fucking car if you're going to, otherwise shut the goddamn door. He stands there for a second, so I assume he's not getting in and throw his chicken sandwich at him. He gets in. I look at him after about 20 feet of driving, and tell him, " You know what? I hate you. I've hated you for a LONG time. When I get better and go back to work, you move the fuck out of my house. And furthermore, don't ever touch me again, you're NEVER sleeping with me again, and don't talk to me either. Ever." So he's quiet for a little while, then decides to say something. I pull over to the side of the road again, and tell him to get the fuck out of the car again. We proceed to have a white-trash screaming fight on the side of hwy 77N in VA in the middle of the goddamn cold night and somewhere in the conversation, I yelled at him that he lied to me. He said he didn't lie, he made a "misfuckingstake." I said well maybe you should think before you open your mouth. He said you should too. I said yeah, like six years ago when I opened my mouth and said "I do."

Anyhow, later on in the car, being female and not thinking it was proper to beat the fuck out of my husband in front of my children, I did the only thing I could do. I started to cry. In the meantime, the husband says, "I'm sorry." I said, "I could swear I told you never to fucking talk to me again." The he said the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ever. He asks me....are you ready for this? "Do you really want to ruin our marriage over a hamburger?" I was dumbfounded for about 10 seconds and then asked him, "Are you really so stupid that you think that's what it's about??? And STOP FUCKING TALKING TO ME." I drove on for a while, in blissful silence, and then we passed the east river. All of a sudden, I was calm. And it occurred to me at that point that the east river was a wonderful place for my husband. Ergo, I reached for the door handle, knowing that he doesn't wear his seat belt, preparing to kick his ass out of my car into the river (after going over the concrete bunker thingy) at 70 mph. If my daughter hadn't sat up at that moment, her "dad" would be a bloody pulpy mess at the bottom of the east river, and I would be in a lovely home for the criminally insane. Then I started to cry again...cuz I always do that when I can't get my way...and he insisted on driving since I couldn't see.

I relinquished control of the vehicle and got out to get in the passenger seat. When I walked around the back of the vehicle, I decided to puke, so I did that for a little while, and he got back out and tried to hug me. Bad move. It's hard to yell at someone to leave you the fuck alone while you're puking, so I had to settle for pushing him away from me. Anyhow, I got into the car after the pukefest, and sat crying for miles & miles. He kept trying to touch me, and I'd push his hand off. He kept trying to hold my hand, and I slapped him. He's kind of a slow learner. Anyway, eventually, I gave up cuz my head was killing me by this time, and I figured if I let him hold my hand, he'd be satisfied & I'd be at least somewhat left alone. Turns out I was right until he started apologizing again. I ignored him. He didn't go away, but at least he shut the fuck up for the rest of the way home. Oh yeah, in the midst of this fight, my friend Aime called me on the cell phone and I told her to call my bf and tell him I'd be in pgh the following night. Nice one, huh?

The next morning, my husband came in to wake me to give me my meds, and makes me start crying again. So, I didn't even bother with a shower, grabbed my un-unpacked suitcase from my room, dropped off my daughter at her friend's, and went to da burgh. The bf was most accomodating (as usual), and so I spent a mostly peaceful two days there. While there, I talked to my friend Kristine who works in the mental health field, and she suggested that I call my shrink when I got home to see if maybe a little vacation to looney land would be in order. I called him, I have an appt. today at 4:45, but I only talked to the nurse at the time I called. I'm thinking maybe it's a good sign that she didn't say I should immediately go to the looney bin w/o passing go or collecting my $200, but I guess we'll see what Dr. Shrink has to say this afternoon. Maybe they'll finally find some meds for me that are good. Or maybe I'll be riding the thorazine express. I'll have to let you know, but on that order, if I don't blog for a while, you'll know why. It could be looneybin time for me, and I'm ok with that I guess. In the meantime, I'm gonna go take a shower and get ready for Dr. Shrink's office. And I was thinking about smoking some cigarettes too.

So god, I hope this satisfies your curiosity as to why I haven't blogged....and why I may not do it again for a while. Maybe I should go to the looney bin....it's kind of an attractive concept to me to be a danger to others...it makes me feel powerful & stuff. Too bad there's no clock towers around here.....but you know, at least I'm not thinking of hurting myself. After all, the only part of this that's my fault is I made my dad fall. Besides, homicide sounds WAY more fun than suicide.

2002-12-26T10:04:00.000-08:00

all right. someone needs to remind me to call roadrunner so I can access my e-mail from home. I keep forgetting to do it, and when I get away from home, I can't get into my e-mail. Ergo, when I return home, I have like 157 e-mails (mostly junk), and it irritates me. Like I don't have enough irritating me at present. Take my sister for instance--my older one--last night she pissed me off enough to almost bitchslap her. I told her bratty boys to turn off the TV if they weren't going to be playing the gamecube, knowing that if you leave the picture on for too long, the image will burn into the screen. So she says to me (after great rolling of eyes) they can't save the game. I tried to explain to her why I wanted the TV off, and (with more great rolling of eyes), she tells the boys just shut it off and make aunt Lori happy. No. You know what would make Aunt Lori happy? If I could hold your head underwater for about 10 minutes or so. Cold water. Slimy water. Gross, cold, slimy snake-filled, alligator-infested water. I can't stand that bitch. And you know what, her kids are a great fucking pain in the ass as well. Her husband is ok--I think--but the rest of them can take a flying leap out of an airplane wearing backpacks instead of parachutes. ugh. sarcastic, put-upon, poor-little-me-but-I'm-better-than-you patronizing sons of motherless whores. Are you getting the picture that I don't like these people? Christ, they're supposed to be leaving here & going to Myrtle Beach, but I see no signs of packing yet. I'm thinking of packing things up myself. For us. We'll see.

Anyway, I got pissed off and instead of punching her in the cocksucker in front of the whole family, I chose to go downstairs and be where they were not. It worked out pretty well. I tried to read my new Stephen King book, but I fell asleep. This is a strange phenomenon: I'm not tired when I begin reading the book, and the book is certainly not boring, but I fall asleep every time I start to read the cottonpickin thing. Weird. One good thing has come of this though...my husband, who never reads due to severe dyslexia, has decided he's going to read THIS book. He's gotten pretty far in it, and oddly, it doesn't put HIM to sleep. Maybe it's must me, or maybe it's my meds, but I'm gonna have to look into the sleep-inducing aspect of this book. Perhaps I'll ask Stephen about it the next time we have lunch.

In the meantime, I'd like to say ZOMBIE, GET YOUR ASS ONLINE WHEN I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!!! Sheesh. I tried to talk to her last night, but she wasn't answering. I thought it was past dinnertime, but I could be wrong. Anyway, although I have absolutely nothing to say, I'd like to say it to you. So get online when I need you, ok? :)

To the other people who are special in my life--and whome I know read this regularly now--love your body (ies) babe. We'll yack atcha later, and possibly from home although I hear thru the grapevine that my pc is not working out very well since I updated windows on the automatic updater. I'll have to trouble-shoot when I get home. Oh yeah, my sable weezoo has decided to go on a biting spree as well, so I guess I'll have to trouble-shoot her as well. More news as it occurs...possible film at 11. Cyabye! :)

2002-12-24T23:41:00.000-08:00

ok, this could be incredibly difficult. I'm at my mom's house for xmas...and not only does she have a straight keyboard, but she has DIAL UP and it's incredibly slow. Gods, cable modems have spoiled me. This is gonna be a quick one, cuz I have to play Satan Claus & help fill up stockings. I just wanted to tsk all my lovely readers who haven't been leaving comments. I feel incredibly unimportant to you. I might cry, but not until after I fill stockings. So anyway, tsk tsk tsk, and you should all be hanging your heads in shame RIGHT NOW. For those of you who decide to comment....well good, but don't make me twist your fucking arm next time. In the meantime, I'm getting off this infernal machine. It's like going from a calculator to an abacus. I'm unthrilled and this straight keyboard hurts my wrists as well as my boobs. But that's a different story. Love you guys...again, have a cule yule.

And Jeffrey...I wasn't sure which of your e-mail addressses was working, so I sent mail to both of them. No cell service in this area. I miss you incredibly. I'll talk to you later in the week. Smoochies! :)

2002-12-23T21:46:00.000-08:00

I was lightly tsked by the bf for not blogging about this weekend. So I will. I went to various meals with old high school friends who were in from out of town. I bought a t-shirt at a mexican restaurant, and I went to Sam's Club & Wal-Mart. Then I went back to my hotel and watched TV & smoked cigarettes. Oh yeah...and Jeffrey? You're the truest god of my idolatry. I don't think I need to specify why. You rock, dude. Oh yeah...and when I almost killed you? Sorry 'bout that.

PS....important safety tip: you know how you can give blowjobs with altoids & they're kinda cool? Listerine strips are NOT an adquate substitute. At all. Write that down. Not that I'd know PERSONALLY or anything....

2002-12-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

Hello, my lovlies...just wanted to drop a quick note to say that we're headed for NC in the morning to spend Giftmas with the family. (joy) We'll be back on the 30th. I don't expect to blog in between then, so don't miss me too much. (right) Everyone have a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season. Don't forget to be nice. CYA! :)

2002-12-21T12:23:00.000-08:00

I was giftmas shopping at Wally World today. Yeah, I thought I was done, too, but I was wrong. Ain't the the first time that's happened....surely it won't be the last. Anyway, I asked some lady if I could pet her coat. She let me. It was soft like a great big teddy bear surrounding her. Good thing she didn't sue me for sexual harassment.

And now I have to go out again. Sam's Club beckons......:)

2002-12-20T23:47:00.000-08:00

I did something tonight that I never thought I'd do....I handed in my resignation to Pagan Lake. I should've figured something like this would happen as the day didn't start out too well, but you know, I'm insanely hopeful sometimes. Nevertheless, without getting into why I did it, I will say this: I refuse to sacrifice my integrity to soothe the feelings of someone who is delusional. It's not my problem, it's hers. Further, I don't appreciate anyone--much less an adult--attacking my CHILD in order to get to me. That's not only cowardice, it's just flat out despicable. We are all responsible for our own actions, and I'm taking responsibility for forgetting the fact that she exists on my planet. People like that are not worth knowing. People like that are certainly not worth wasting one's energy on. Ergo, I shall say no more about the offender in question. She is no longer real to me, if in fact she ever was. And if she's going around spouting bullshit about me, I have this to say: My mother told me there's no such thing as goblins, so you're not really there. Poof. All settled.

I had to drive out earlier to get my semi-drunk husband from his giftmas party. Snow is really pretty, but I wish by all that's holy that it wouldn't stick to concrete or asphalt. Or anything else a road on which I'm driving happens to be made of. We made it home safely, and that's the important part, I guess. And by being semi-drunk, my husband proved something to me that I never knew. You don't have to be a hot chick for people to buy you drinks. Can you imagine? He probably could've driven home, but thought better of it, and I'm glad he did. It occurred to me after I got home though, that he might have been in better shape to drive than I was. I'd taken my new psych meds that state they cause drowsiness, and I do believe a minivan is considered heavy machinery. At least by prescription standards.

Speaking of drowsiness, I'm going to bed.

2002-12-20T12:32:00.000-08:00

I have just one thing to say about my day: Oh.....MY.....GOD! There was a poster on the wall of my HS psych class that read "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't really out to get you." I knew you were, and you people suck. You KNOW who you are. Bastards. Let's recap....

1) I woke up late & missed my appointment with the auto insurance co.
2) Even though I did a wire transfer from one of my banks to the other, I STILL can't get any cash
3) Sam's Club Pharmacy only had part of my prescription, and they couldn't get thru to bill insurance cuz some moron cut a phone line "out back" while fence-building (don't they have to CHECK that shit before they dig?)
4) Rite Aid Pharmacy SUCKS CANAL WATER UP ITS ASS, and I had to take my other scrips there.
5) The wait at Rite Aid to get your prescriptions filled was over an hour, so I have to go back
6) I forgot my list of stuff I needed before I went to Sam's, so now I have to go somewhere else...and take the kids cuz you can't crate/kennel them like dogs
7) I almost ran out of gas cuz Sam's Club's pumps were non-operational when I got there. I had to coast back home, freaking out the whole way, cuz I'm not one of those people who believe that the E on your gas gauge means "Eh....I can drive a few more miles."
8) I had to pay $1.39 a gallon for gas instead of Sam's Club's price of $1.21 per gallon (see above)
9) I lost my water bill, and it's due today. I already had the check written out & everything. :(
10) My husband called & bitched that he couldn't have any cash to go get a beer with the guys after work

I think that about does it. And after all that, I have just one question: Don't you people know that I'm crazy and volatile and could blow at any moment????? Sheesh.

2002-12-19T10:43:00.000-08:00

I was just folding towels and have come to the following conclusion: I have to be allergic to laundry. It makes me sneeze. Ergo, I need to add a laundress to my ever-lengthening list of staff I'm going to hire when I become filthy rich. Up til now, I had maid, housekeeper, and masseur....possibly chiropractor. I might need a part-time chauffeur or a pilot, but I'm still thinking on those two.

At this point, I'd like to point out that this blog is partially to entertain you, and partially to let me vent, thereby entertaining myself. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, you probably don't know how stupid the things are that you're doing. I got a complimentary comment yesterday from another Rel 1 chatter, and I have to say thanks. Cyn, you're in the top five on my "whattaguy" list. She said that I write like Erma Bombeck, but funnier. I've given a lot of thought to writing these past however many years, and in fact, a good friend of mine--who has disappeared off the face of the planet, btw--read my tarot cards in 1985 and told me I was supposed to write a book. I never thought any of my life would be interesting enough for anyone to read about, but what the hell...maybe I'll give it a shot. It's not like I have anything else to do. Except laundry, but we've covered that already. Maybe I'll just print out and publish my blog. Or maybe not. I like to be mysterious. If I DID write a book, I'd have to make sure that my mother never read it. She's already disappointed in me. I don't see any reason to make it worse. That's sort of ironic though, because I used to write short stories, and she said I should write also. Eh....still not a good enough reason to make things worse.

Ok, question for the day: Why is it that people cannot put things back where they got them? My children are guilty of this on an all-too-regular basis. In fact, you can usually locate my daughter by following the trail of things she leaves on the floor after she walks in the door. She also refuses to put trash in the trash can, especially in the kitchen--like burrito wrappers, cheese wrappers, empty ravioli cans--and for some reason, she never puts away the sour cream. My son, on the other hand, gets ANYTHING out in the kitchen, and it stays where he puts it. Both kids seem to think that the kitchen sink is a lovely place to put empty cans & cheese wrappers. Go figure. A funny thing, and I don't mean funny-haha I mean funny peculiar, is that when you tell either of them to go put things away, these things they've left out have mysteriously become invisible. It's teenage-vision. If something is in the way on the table or couch, they just shove it aside. If something is out of place on the floor, they just kick it so it's not. Perhaps I'll figure out how this works and market it for those who wish to hide things from other people. It must be kind of like Douglas Addam's SEP field (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series). SEP stands for Someone Else's Problem. If if's someone else's problem, why should they deal with it, right? Evidently, things that need to be done, i.e., chores or picking up after themselves, would fall under that category. Food on the table? SEP Clothes & bookbag on the floor? SEP Jacket(s) lying on the couch? SEP Laundry basket full of their own clean clothes? SEP (and that one doesn't make any sense to me, cuz if they're their clothes, it should be their problem.) Neither of them understands the concept of putting dishes in the sink or at least near the sink when they need to be washed, either. SEP

Oh well. I'd like to say that someday they'll have children, and those children will be/turn out just like them. But I'd hate to say that, cuz my mother said that to me, and it turned out to be true. It hasn't been pretty. Thanks a lot, mom. I appreciate that, really. (insert grumbles under breath here) I was going somewhere with this, but I can't remember where. I do know that if they continue their current habits of housekeeping, I'm not visiting either of them when they move out. Bleah.

My children are not the only ones affected by the SEP. I'm still not getting my disability checks, so I haven't been paid since October. One agency says it's another agency's fault....that agency says it's someone else's fault...and the third one says they're working on it but can't give me even a ballpark figure as to when things will be resolved. (SEP) I'm not amused by this in the least. Neither are the people to whom I owe money. Perhaps one day they'll get their shit together and fix it. I'm hoping with fingers & toes crossed that it'll be January at the lastest. They say that money is like sex and air....it's not important unless you're not getting any. Well, I'M NOT GETTING ANY. I'd like to have that remedied.

Speaking of money, I was chatting with another wonderful Rel 1 chatter last night, and he asked me what I thought life was all about. I said that I felt life was basically about this: parents are supposed to warp their children in any possible (positive) way; children are here to completely annoy the parents; and money makes the world go 'round. He must've thought this was sad or cynical and asked if I thought that was it. After thinking for a little while longer, I said no. I believe we must love as deeply as we possibly can, and make sure that we take time to see the beauty around us every day. He pointed out to me that my mental illness--and subsequent disability retirement from the workforce--has given me this opportunity. I hadn't looked at it that way, so I tried it on for size. He's right. Without all the day-to-day hassles of the workplace, and just the minor inconveniences around the house, I have nothing to do BUT recognize the beauty around me. I also have time to pay attention to my children, even if they are annoying and lazy. That's their job, so I shouldn't fault them for it. Nonetheless, I have decided to figuratively stop and smell the flowers every day. And as for all that other horseshit hassle that "normal" people have to deal with every day? SEP =O)

2002-12-18T18:27:00.000-08:00

I'm so sorry to say that nothing more interesting than the vet visit happened today. I did, indeed, take my nap which turned into almost a 4 hour log-stacking fest, so I'm probably going to be awake all night. Joy. Oh, btw...I thought I would mention here that I'm going to auction my daughter on e-bay. I'm not sure how to word the description though. Maybe this: 12+ caucasian female, slightly used. Loves Eminem, bell-bottom jeans, and anything that will piss off the authority figure nearest her or her brother. Also is lazy, doesn't put clean clothes away that her pitiful, crazy, OCD mother so steadfastly washed and folded just right, complains about everything, is given to fits of histrionics, and leaves clothes, dishes, bookbags, pencils, glitter pens, and anything else you can think of all over the house. How much do you think I could get for her? I'd try the Islamic community cuz she's still a virgin (I think) (I hope), but I don't think she'd do well there although she does love dressing in black. Any suggestions for the ad or any possible way to turn her into a stepford kid would be greatly appreciated.

I would also like to thank all of you who commented on yesterday's blog. You all were wonderful, considering that I bugged the shit out of you. I felt like a JW hawking the Watchtower, but you responded beautifully. I may have to redo my own list after reading some of yours. I don't like to be outdone, and I forgot about a few (hundred) people that I find virtually fuckable. I'd like to extend my condolences to Antonio Banderas though as his name appeared only once in the myriad of lovelies that were listed. Evidently, his 15 minutes are up.

I think mine are too. I'm going to chat now.

2002-12-18T10:05:00.000-08:00

Gods, what a morning. I took the doggies to the vet to get their kennel cough vacs, and they were so BAD! Barkley wouldn't quit barking--at the top of his lungs no less-- then tried to help himself from the smorgasbord of rawhide chewies they have for sale at the vet's office. I'm yelling at him "This is not a buffet, dammit," and the office staff was LAUGHING at me. How wude. For some reason, my little dog, Scooter is terrified of the vet. He cries, and I mean CRIES--he sounds like a baby--whenever we go there. When the tech tried to take him in the back to get his vaccination, he jumped up in my lap & put his paws around my neck. That dog is either a) human in a dog's clothes; b) the biggest pussy I've ever seen; or c) all of the above. I swear, my teenagers behave better than that, and I've told you how they are. Anyway, we got done with no one being seriously injured or scarred for life psychologically, and came home.

I got a $10 gift certificate from Kohl's in the mail today (yay!), and after that excitement and the vet, I need a nap. Maybe I'll have something more interesting to report after my kids get home. For now, cyabye! zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2002-12-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

ok, the site for blogroller isn't up yet for new accounts, I'm gonna have to do this manually....for those of you who don't read zombie's blog, you HAVE to read it today....http://zombie@ifeeldead.com. She is so funny.

What are you waiting for? GO READ IT!

2002-12-17T11:47:00.000-08:00

Take two: A search engine decided to freeze my computer in the middle of blogging, so now I have to retype all of what I'd typed before. I'm unthrilled. I may have to have a serious talk with the CPU later on. Anyway, as I sit here typing with my sunglasses on cuz 1) it's incredibly bright in here and 2) I have incredibly cool sunglasses--they're Gargoyles, love 'em, love 'em--I'm inspired AGAIN to finish this blog because I finally discovered that people read it, and I truly would like to see your comments on the following.

My bf commented to me that he was thinking of posting his list of celebrities he would fuck if he were only given the opportunity in the comments section of my blog. Now, something THAT important shouldn't be hidden away in a little comments section (no offense to Haloscan), so I'm gonna post it here for all to see. Mostly cuz I'd like to know who's on YOUR list. Humor me, I'm writing a book about this shit. Come on.....spill. We here at Fun & Games with the Mentally ILL won't pass any judgement, and we're firm believers in different strokes for different folks, so list away. (Disclaimer: ANYONE who has the Olsen twins on their list--you're a pervert. Really. Go get help. NOW.)

So anyway, I'm gonna post his list from memory, and truthfully, I'm gonna have to add a couple to his list because frankly, his memory is a bit murky, and I know I've heard him say "I'd fuck HER" from time to time. I'll askterisk the ones I'm adding. These aren't in any particular order, I don't think....but I do believe that #1 should be #1 from all the goo-goo eyes he makes every time he sees her. I may have forgotten some, dude....you may add them in comments if you wish.

1) Sandra Bullock
2) Alyson Hannigan (I shoulda put her on my list)
3) Angelina Jolie (I shoulda put HER on my list too)
4) Elle MacPherson
5) Maria Conchita Alonso
6) Dawn Welles (Maryanne from Gilligan's Island in case you didn't know)_
7) Jeri Ryan*
8) Marina Sirtis*

I'd like to state now for the record that although I do not wish to fuck Jeri Ryan, I do most grieviously envy her awesome set of tits. I'd like some of those for giftmas if anyone is just beating their heads against the wall trying to think what I would want. Yeah. Those would be nice.

Ok, well that about does it for this portion of the blog. Make sure & comment, guys, I"m seriously interested in your lists of would-bes. This could be very fun. For me. And that's the important part, right?

2002-12-16T06:05:00.000-08:00

One more thing....thinking about my husband calling me thinking I was asleep reminded me. My mother used to call me, and when I answered, she'd say, "Oh, I thought you weren't home." Then why the fuck did you call? Should I have hung up immediately and let the machine get it when she called back? Some mysteries will never be solved.

2002-12-16T06:01:00.000-08:00

As I sit here with my delicious breakfast of Diet Rite and string cheese, I'm thinking of the comments that Sam & Zomb made to my last post with the following thoughts in mind: 1) Thank you for reading my blog, and 2) DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! And btw, I love you both. Now, that being said, we can move on to the things I didn't write about yesterday and the things I'm going to do today. Well, let me rephrase that...the things I'm intending to do today. Wait a minute. I've misplaced my cigarettes. BRB. Got 'em...are we all ready? Fasten your seatbelts then.

Yesterday was giftmas/family reunion for my husband's side of the family. We met at the local roller rink, and everyone brought cookies or other various snacks, and a good time was had by most. It floors me that my mother-in-law, as well as her aged sisters, still roller skate. It pisses me off that they do it better than I do. Let's face it folks. Carrying around what amounts to enough extra
weight to equal a small person does not give one's center of gravity an easy time. Putting wheels on one's feet complicates the matter. Although I did not fall down, I did enough moving & shaking as to appear that I was in the center of one of those gyroscope thingies, and I erred on the side of caution and took off said wheels. I did have a lot of fun watching the younger generations in their various stages of rollerskating mastery, from the little ones whose skates move only forward (good idea, that) to the teeny-bopper group who was in their element (including my daughter who can outdance me, even on wheels) since they do it practically every weekend. I used to skate every friday and saturday night when I was a teen, and dammit, I was good. When I get this extra weight off, I'm gonna pick up roller skating again. It's another way to embarrass my daughter in front of her friends thereby giving her an extra topic to discuss with her therapist when my methods of child-rearing eventually drive her to one. It'll happen. Trust me.

Today, I tried very hard to go back to sleep after the kids left for school, but instead found myself staring at my curtains and thinking that they need to be hemmed. Yes, Jeffrey...I'm going to hem the curtains so you can shut up about it. Like your decorating skills mean ANYTHING to me. Anyhow, I figured I'd add that to my list of things to do today; however, I discovered that my children had left the kitchen decorated in a post-apocalypse motif. Ergo, I have to clean the kitchen first. After I clean the kitchen, I'm going to notice the other stuff that needs to be cleaned, so I'm thinking my primary motivation for getting out of bed (i.e., the curtains) is not going to be dealt with today. Miracles happen though, so you can all be hopeful for me.

As I sat down to write here, my husband called from work. The first thing he said to me was, "Oh, I thought you'd be asleep." Well then why the fuck did you call? How wude. Anyway, he wants lunch delivered to him, so I guess I'll do that too. Every once in a while, I have to be nice to him just so he doesn't murderlize me in my sleep. Just one more thing to get in the way of those curtains. I also remembered yesterday that I forgot to take the dogs to the vet for their kennel cough meds and I forgot to go to the insurance company to pay for the comprehensive coverage on Ed's old, beaten up eyesore of a truck that he's supposed to be selling. I guess I'll do that too. (poor curtains)

As we're talking about the husband, I suppose I'd better mention that the first proverbial shoe has dropped. He asked me, "Don't you have one of those dead journal thingies?" I told him I had a blog, and of course, he wanted to read it. I'm thinking this is a bad idea. I told him no, you can't read it. It's private. He asks why? I said cuz I was pissed off at you a couple times, and I wrote some stuff you don't want to read. He said well, why write in there instead of talking to me? I assured him that writing in my blog was WAY better than fighting with him over the things about which I was (am) pissed. It also saves on sweeping time since I won't be throwing any dishes. After the smug look on his face, I'm pretty certain that he knows where the blog is and reads it anyway. Now this could be part of my paranoia--especially in light of the references he made to having hidden cameras around the house--but either way, this man is out to get me. Whatever. He's either gonna read it or not, and he's either gonna get pissed or not, and he's either gonna leave or not. I'll keep you posted, especially if there'll be film at 11.

Ok, the 14th....yes, I was thinking about quitting this and just writing in my journal, but part of that was cuz hardly anyone comments on this, and I can't get the site meter to work, so I have no idea how many people I'm entertaining...and the other part was cuz the bf had come up to visit, and we had a wonderful time as usual. Then he had to go home to his stupid wife and leave me here with my stupid life, so I was a bit on the depressed side. I should be used to this by now. Jesus, it's no surprise. The man is married, I am married....we both have kids...so I should know that real life interferes with any sort of good time you intend on having. That doesn't change the fact that I miss him when he's gone. Hell, I miss him even when he's with me cuz I know he's going to have to leave. I can't believe I'm that fucked up, so I'll ignore it and maybe it'll go away. On the bright side, I'm going to see him in da burgh on Thursday, so I have something to look forward to. yay!

There was something else I was going to put in here, but I can't remember what it was. I was inspired by zomb's last post, and....oh yeah. I remember now. The ranting part of this blog. I'd like to know what it is about me that people think I work in every store into which I enter. I don't walk around in any sort of uniform-like clothing....perhaps I just look like I know what's going on? I doubt that, but who knows. Well, I should've said almost every store into which I enter. No one asks me where stuff is in Sam's Club, and dammit, I know that store backward and forward as it is my Mecca. Anyway, I was out the other day, shopping for other stuff other than giftmas items, dressed in sweats and a grubby t-shirt with NO BRA on, and about 40 people asked me "Do you work here?" All I can say is man, if I look like an employee, dress code standards have slipped to a new low. I have a better approach when I need help. I stand in the middle of whatever aisle I'm in and yell "DOES ANYONE WORK HERE? ANYONE AT ALL???" They come running then. I don't suggest this method of obtaining aid to everyone--remember, folks. I'm crazy, I have papers to prove it, and I can get away with it. You may be asked to leave. If, however, you are asked to leave, you should always be very indignant and yell as you're going out the door, "I've been thrown out of better places than this!" Or you could just be like my 12-going-on-25 year old daughter who just screams, "Your store SUCKS!"

I know I've talked your ear off, but I have to tell you this story I just remembered about my daughter when we were in Kohl's in da burgh. We were wasting time waiting for the bf to arrive before we went to a movie, and Kohl's is right by the hotel, so we were pseudo-shopping. She walked past the men's section in the store and for some reason got it in her head that absolutely none of the fashions in that section were worthy of buying. So she hollered (very loudly), "Is this the FAG section? SHIT!" I, being the conscientious parent that I am, cracked up. Very shortly after that, she saw a young-ish man walking past us and felt that she had to comment on his ensemble and asked him point blank if he shopped in the fag section of Kohl's. He, shocked, looked at me, and I just mimed smoking a joint and pointed at my daughter to indicate that she was just high. He looked a bit relieved for a second and then stared at me in horror. I just shrugged and walked away, chuckling. Kate was on to bigger and better things by that time, having found the ugliest PJs in history. She was asking complete strangers if they'd ever seen anything so ugly, and who the fuck would even put those on a dog. It was a fun time. Someday, I'm going to regret raising her with no manners, but for now, it's entertaining. Ok, so I learned my mothering from Roseanne Barr. Sue me. I'm still gonna laugh at her.

That's it for now. The kitchen beckons, lunch duty beckons, the insurance company and the vet beckon, and it's curtains for the curtains. Oh well....a nutzoid's work is never done. Good thing I'm headed for another manic phase.

2002-12-14T21:22:00.000-08:00

I think I'm gonna quit doing this and just write in my journal instead.

2002-12-13T23:09:00.000-08:00

Ok, it's giftmas season full swing, complete with idiot drivers, pushy & ignorant shoppers, and "sorry, we're all out of that's." This also brings to mind the lovely accompaniment that some places feel you need, just to get you in that set-it-for-kill buy anything mode. If I EVER, and I mean EVER hear the fucking song Feliz Navidad again, I believe my ears will hemmorhage and my head will probably explode in about 50 directions. In case that wasn't clear, I HATE that song. Second in line to that would be Jingle Bell Rock. What exactly is a jingle horse? I've never seen one. I don't believe anyone else has ever seen one either. So...to the writer of that song, fuck you and the jingle horse you rode in on. The only thing decent about you is that you don't sing Feliz Navidad.

I really like music....most types, too. I'm a sucker for sappy 70s songs, and I love 80s music (cuz those were my glory days). There's also a lot of stuff from this decade and the last that are wonderful as well....MB20 for example. Anyway, I don't usually like rap (but that's cuz I'm too white to undertsand it), and I'm sorry people--especially my daughter--I HATE Eminem. I wish the real Slim Shady would not only shut up but shut the FUCK up. I'm going to do something now that I'm sure I'll regret, but since I'm high on tranquilizers and having had no sleep for the last 2 days, I'm going to do it anyway. Self-destructive behavior is my forte anyway. I'm going to list the top however many are on the list of songs I fucking hate. This does not include giftmas music, and please realize that after #1, they're in no particular order. #1 stands though. Ready?

1) Black Betty - I have no idea who sings it, and I don't care. I hate this song more than words can say.
2) Safety Dance by Men with Hats. With hats, without hats...whatever. STUPID SONG.
3) The Barbie Song - Nuff said
4) Anything and Everything by Creed - Creed makes me want to commit hari-kari.
5) Most songs by Jewel. Hippie freak
6) Cherish - both versions I've heard. Madonna is too cutesy in hers, and whoever sings the other one should be like....dead.
7) Love Me Tender (Elvis) - don't ask why. The reasons are unknown even to me.
8) Rock the Casbah (Clash) cuz it reminds me of someone. There were two things I didn't like about her....her FACE.

Sorry, I had to go get a bowl of cereal. Where was I? Oh yeah.

9) Anything old by metallica that has head-throbbing drums and where he's screeching about how horrible it was to be a war veteran when he's never even been in the battle of the sexes.
10) I Never Felt More Like Singin the Blues (Hank Wms.) cuz I had to repeatedly listen to this old chick with a horrible dye job sing it at karaoke for months on end. She even did the whistling part. We re-named it the Wal-Mart song. (Sorry shroom)
11) Billie Jean (Michael Jackson)
12) Love is a Battlefield (Pat Benetar)
13) Hit Me with your Best Shot (Pat Benetar)
14) We are the world - crackas, please

Ok, that's all I can think of right now. I'll update as anything comes to mind. I'd like to leave you with one other rant...something that really chaps my ass. Why the FUCK do they have to have feminine hygiene and related articles advertised on TV during primetime? Shouldn't they be doing that during soap time and let those chicks spread the word? I was completely grossed out the other night when a commercial came on for yeast infection meds...Thank you. And you've made the grated parmesan cheese I just put on my spaghetti look SO appetizing now. That's just gross. Bleah.

2002-12-13T00:37:00.000-08:00

Today passed rather uneventfully. I slept most of it. This is the second time in a week I've slept almost all day. I wasn't depressed, but I guess all that mania has caught up with me finally. I did manage to finish almost all the laundry, and of course, watch ER. ER was a difficult challenge tonight. They presented it in reverse which made it hard to follow. But it was still ER, and I love ER. ER is god. Plus Goran Vijnic is quickly moving up the ranks to #1 on my list of celebrities I would love to fuck if I could. In fact, I think he is #1. The list pretty much goes:

1) Goran Vijnic
2) George Clooney
3) Bruce Willis
4) Sean Connery
5) Nicholas Cage
6) Ewan MacGreggor
7) Patrick Stewart

I can't think of any others right at the moment, but if you see any of these men who are looking for a fat, crazy housewife to have a mad, passionate, and meaningless affair with, please give them my number. Thanks. Some of you may wonder why certain people are on my list and why others aren't, but I remind you that it's my list, so kindly piss off. :)

I talked to both my baby sister and my father today and luckily had an epiphany. My father has been having some mental issues for quite some time now, and I don't know why I didn't connect it sooner. The man is bipolar (like me! :) ) and they've been treating him for the wrong thing. First they treated him for suicidal ideation-laden depression.....and then they treat him for anxiety. Duh doctors.....pay attention!!!! I told him to mention to his doctor that I was bipolar, and maybe they'll get him the right meds and he'll feel ok for the first time in like forever. I made sure my baby sister (she's almost 18) will keep on him about the meds, and she assures me she will. So maybe I saved the day! I'll wait a little while before donning my tights & cape, but hey. It's a start. Maybe by the end of January 2003, we'll all be feeling better. Let's hope so.

It's almost 4 AM and I have to get up & make tatertot casserole for my husband's work giftmas party tomorrow. I should probably go to bed. But I'm gonna go chat instead. Judy is being VERY interesting. And Zomb, if you're reading this.....where the fuck were you today??? I missed you, girl.

Later, gators!

2002-12-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

You'll never guess what I found today....and after looking for it for a year. My ex-husband. What a treat! I needed to ask him a pertinent question regarding our children, but he made sure and let me know the reason he's been ignoring his kids for the past year is MY fault. I was horrible, you see. So horrible that it affected his relationship with his children, so he had to move, not give us a forwarding address, and change his phone number. Of course, I got to be the one to pick up the pieces of our daughter's broken heart when he crushed her AGAIN. I'm such the lucky one. I really am. Since the kids have been born, I've been the one who got to clean up puke, shit, blood, and any other fluid leaking from them; comfort them after bad dreams or boo-boos; try to bite my tongue and not be mean when they ask why daddy doesn't come and see them; make excuses when daddy doesn't send birthday or christmas presents; etc. etc. This man is the type who you can tell is lying by the fact that his lips are moving.

Then again....I am the lucky one. I've been the one to clean up puke, shit, blood, and any other fluid leaking from them; comfort them after bad dreams or boo-boos; hug them whenever they were happy or sad, etc. etc. I've gotten every smile, every milestone, every heartache that taught a lesson, every hug, and most of all, all the I love you, Mommy's. God, I love my kids.

2002-12-11T12:00:00.000-08:00

superkey79: hi
wiccan_pot_pie: yes?
superkey79: ar you fin
wiccan_pot_pie: am I what?
superkey79: fine is good
wiccan_pot_pie: am I good at what?
wiccan_pot_pie: I'm good at lots of things
superkey79: ok asl blz
wiccan_pot_pie: I'm female, and how old I am is none of your business.
wiccan_pot_pie: Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to ask a woman her age?
wiccan_pot_pie: You should apologize immediately.
superkey79: sloly plz
superkey79: laughing smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: and you should learn to speak English
superkey79: ok wher you frpm
wiccan_pot_pie: the United States, obviously
wiccan_pot_pie: if you'd read my profile, you'd know that.
wiccan_pot_pie: is there a point to this conversation, or were you just planning on bothering me incessantly?
superkey79: yes
wiccan_pot_pie: well, what is it?
superkey79: you from kolorado
wiccan_pot_pie: no
superkey79: so
superkey79: do u have cam
superkey79: love smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: yes
superkey79: ikant see you
wiccan_pot_pie: that's because my cam isn't on, dork
superkey79: ok my name is muftah from libya
wiccan_pot_pie: congratulations
wiccan_pot_pie: why should I care about that? Are you someone important?
wiccan_pot_pie: Are you going to send me lots of money?
superkey79: yes
wiccan_pot_pie: good
wiccan_pot_pie: send it right away
superkey79: you ar funne
superkey79: laughing smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: gosh thanks. You are boring.
superkey79: you ar the best woman in the world
superkey79: love smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: and You are an idiot.
wiccan_pot_pie: how long have you been an idiot? Is this a long-time or a new thing?
wiccan_pot_pie: Because you're pretty good at it.
superkey79: do you like sex
superkey79: shhhhh smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: Of course I like sex. What a stupid question.
superkey79: no im not stupid but i like sex only
superkey79: do you have boy frind
wiccan_pot_pie: you only like sex? that's the only thing you like? you don't like....say eating dinner? or horseback riding? or maybe reading?
wiccan_pot_pie: yes I do have a boyfriend. I have a husband too.
wiccan_pot_pie: Sometimes I even have girlfriends, but I don't at the moment.
wiccan_pot_pie: Are you jerking off to this conversation? Am I making you horny?
superkey79: see u bay
superkey79: talk to the hand smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: what?
wiccan_pot_pie: see u bay? e bay? you want me to auction myself on ebay? that's SICK.
wiccan_pot_pie: I'm not a whore.
wiccan_pot_pie: Asshole
superkey79: angry smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: don't get mad at me, asshole. You started it.
wiccan_pot_pie: Asking all kinds of personal questions and then expecting me to whore myself on ebay. You should be ashamed.
wiccan_pot_pie: If I knew your mother's phone number, I'd call her and tell her what a pervert you are.
superkey79: laughing smiley
superkey79: 87990 99-988765 any time
superkey79: eyebrows raised smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: that's not a real number
wiccan_pot_pie: now you're a pervert AND a liar. I don't think I want to talk to you anymore.
superkey79: no my mother wont toking you
superkey79: talk to the hand smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: toking? your mother smokes marijuana?
wiccan_pot_pie: how much per day?
wiccan_pot_pie: isn't that ILLEGAL?
superkey79: vkvpnpbvgn
superkey79: kck;lv;n'[;\'m;\'\
superkey79: nnpb;m[b m]m
superkey79: nb;mlb' m,bm\b
superkey79: devil smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: well, if you're going to swear at me, I'm not going to talk to you anymore. When you can be a nice person, you let me know.
superkey79: love smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: Dickhead
superkey79: tongue out smiley
superkey79: haaaaaaa
superkey79: do you have sester
wiccan_pot_pie: yes, we have easter every year. It's in the springtime.
superkey79: clown smiley
wiccan_pot_pie: I'm leaving now. Quit talking to me.
wiccan_pot_pie: I have to go post this on my blog so everyone knows that you're a pervert, a liar, and a dickhead with a pothead mother.
wiccan_pot_pie: Bye now!
wiccan_pot_pie: cheesy grin smiley
superkey79: surprised face smiley

Sigh....some people. Really. Sam should love this one. LOL

2002-12-10T20:02:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah...I forgot to tell you that all the giftmas presents are now wrapped and under the appropriate tree, in case you were wondering. I asked my husband for the key to the trailer, and he just unlocked it for me. I never knew it could be that simple. Most things aren't.

While I'm still blathering, I'd like to extend a big ________________ (you fill it in) to god, and you know who you are. I'm not talking about big papa in the sky. You were great last night. Really really great. I'd like to add you to my usual nightly routine, if it's ok with you. (Don't you just LOVE innuendo? Can you imagine how loudly Sam is Tsking (c) right now?)

Like most bipolars, I decided that bipolar disorder is NOT what I have, and obviously, I know more than the doctors who say I do. However, I have faith in the internet, and looked up the disorder--as well as several others I thought I might have--and I'm reluctantly admitting that the doctors were right. I'm not pleased about this, you understand. Being of southern decent, I prefer to be just eccentric. Unfortunately, my eccentricity comes with a (warning) label. Maybe someday they'll get my meds right and I'll be able to function in so-called "normal" society, but until then, I'll keep looking for that lottery fairy. When you're rich, you're never crazy. You can be eccentric. Everyone cross your fingers for me, or just give me the money. That would be ok, too. Let me know, ok?

2002-12-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

Today was doctor appointment day. I skipped the shrink appt. at noon cuz I had a migraine, but I felt well enough to go see the gynecologist at 2:30. He asked me how things were, and I replied same shit different day. We had a fabulous time. The one thing that really cracked me up about this visit is that he had this plaque on his wall from the Antioch Baptist Church thanking him for some do-gooder thing or other. The line that got me was "Thank you for your labor." Ok folks, this is an OB/GYN, and the church is thanking HIM for HIS labor? LMAO. Well, I pointed this out to him and we both got a good laugh out of it. I think the laughter distracted him from the torture he was planning to inflict on me (i.e., a pelvic exam) although he did give me something else: pills. Oh, GOODY! More pills to take. These, however make the pounding in my head go away, so we may decide to like them after all. To quote my mother, "Drugs are our friends." I always knew I'd like my mother better if she were on drugs. Or I was. Now we both are. Party on, dudes.

In other news, there was a HS giftmas choir concert at the middle school cuz the HS has no auditorium. Neither do any of the other schools in this district. Hey, they didn't run the plans past me, that's all I can say. If they had, the elementary schoolers wouldn't be eating lunch in the gym, but hey...what do I know about construction? Anyway, my son got to go watch his gf amongst all the other singers, so he's all giddy now. I, on the other hand, was not pleased at getting a phone call 5 MINTUES before the movie I was watching was over to go and pick them up from the concert. Ok, so I have scene-back buttons on my DVD remote, but still...it ruins the nuances of the movie. So what if I've seen it a million and six times before. You'd think that someone at that school could've dropped my kids off at home, but NOOOOOOOOO. Whatever. One day they'll have kids and they'll have to go out at 10 at night when it's freakin cold wearing nothing but izod & spandex. It could happen....

2002-12-09T14:20:00.000-08:00

I'm back...didja miss me? I didn't blog yesterday, mostly because I slept all fucking day, but also because I was ashamed that I had actually bitched, moaned & complained for so much on Saturday. I'm over it for now, although I did have a brief crying jag today for absolutely no reason. Jesus, you'd think I was pregnant. Anyway, I got a lot accomplished today, albeit not all the things on my list, but at least all the giftmas presents are wrapped & under the giftmas tree with the exception of 3 or 4 that are still outside being hidden. I'll get to those when I find the key to the fucking trailer.

I'm sorry I was such a crybaby on saturday, but it beats the hell out of like...oh....I dunno. suicide for one. I'd like to let you know my thoughts on suicide since I brought it up and all. It's stupid. First of all, taking yourself out of the equation prevents you from wreaking havoc on anyone else--which I believe is my main reason for being on this planet. And secondly, if it's all the other bastards in the world causing the problems, why not take out your frustrations on the cause????? I told this to the intake worker for the EAP program I was in when I was looking for a shrink, and although she said I was a clearer-minded thinker than most, perhaps it might be a good idea to try a little psychoanalysis. And maybe some medication. I tried both...as we discussed before, neither are working. Anyway, I plan to tell my shrink that when I see him tomorrow and see what he has to say. I probably won't understand it since he's Indian and has a strong accent, but I'm willing to give it a try. Ok, so to recap....suicide, no....homicide, much better idea. And yes, I am heavily medicated for YOUR protection. I saw a bumper sticker that said that, and I need one. Anyone who knows where I can get one should certainly tell me right away. I'll remember you in my will if you do...

Ok, on to my next rant. Why is it that people feel they must have control over other people? That's kind of vague, so let me put it in perspective for you. I have this friend who has(d) this girlfriend. Now whenever he was with the girlfriend, she treated him like complete shit...always demanding things of him, and then never being satisfied with what he'd give. Eventually, he'd tire of the game, take his balls (back), and go home. When he did this, girlfriend would turn on the charm and win him back. Everyone knows people like this. Can someone explain the compulsion? When I have a toy and I don't want to play with it, hell, I'll let someone else play with it. I may even give it to them. Selfishness and insecurity gets you nowhere IF they're indulged in like a fucking addiction. Be fair. If you don't want it, chances are someone else does. Give it up already and quit your goddamn bitching about it. We're not toddlers. Let's not act like them. Thus ends my sage advice for the day. Write it down.

Um....I guess I'm through for now. I'm gonna go watch a DVD. But before I go, there are those of you out there in cyberland that I love dearly. I would like to tell you now that I DO love you dearly. I just thought you should know.

2002-12-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

Today, I am useless. Oh, I got stuff done that needed to be done, but I'm still useless. I'm sick and fucking tired of popping pills every time the stupid alarm goes off on my stupid phone that my stupid husband programmed so I wouldn't forget to take my stupid psych meds. Jesus, even my kids are forcing meds on me. Does any of it do any good? No. I feel just as shitty ON the meds as OFF them. Perhaps I'm not quite as violent, and maybe my moodswings aren't exactly as drastic, but...whatever. I'm tired of the lot of it. I still don't know how much money I'm going to get for this disability I was "awarded." No matter how many people I call in Columbus, no one has a straight answer. In fact, the more people you talk to, the more answers you get. Yet no two are ever the same. How do you suppose they manage that? I have no idea whether or not I should be looking for another job. Hell, I thought I was doing pretty well before they "awarded" me this disability retirement, and that was after I talked to the State's doctor who informed me that I should be able to go back to work after the first of the year. Instead, I got slapped in the face with a no-more-calls-we-have-a-psycho letter telling me that I'm not permitted to go back to work. Oh, and I have to seek psychiatric treatment. What the fuck do they think I've been doing for the past year? Then of course, the shrink I have been seeing refuses to accept the insurance provided by the disability people, so I get to tell my story to a whole new shrink. To top THAT off, they fucked up the certification date of my disability retirement, and I got to shell out $380 for the shrink appointments THEY insisted I needed and were supposed to pay for. We finally got that shit straightened out, but you know how it is when you're owed money by either the government or an insurance company. You get it when they get around to it. Gods forbid you should owe them money though. Then they want it yesterday. Can I charge them interest?

So, my days consist of cleaning my already clean house, looking for stray laundry to do, letting the dogs out to go pee (etc.), and waiting for my kids to come home so I have someone to talk to...or sleeping cuz there's nothing else to do. My bf calls as much as he can, but the conversations aren't the same when they're not face-to-face. Then the husband comes home and asks for dinner. He sits in his chair, eats dinner, watches a little TV, and falls asleep. I don't suppose that matters much though. It's not like we have anything to talk about anyway.

My mother tells me to pray. Can anyone tell me why the hell I should do that when there's no one listening? Then again, maybe someone is listening, but it sure as shit ain't god. I wished so hard when I snapped at work the last time that I'd never have to go back there again, and that we'd always have enough money to have what we wanted & needed....you know, like winning the lottery. Ok...we're halfway there, where's my fucking winning ticket?

The bottom line is I've had enough. I'm bored off my ass, I don't know if I can get a job, I'm not sure if I should go to school to try and get retrained for something else, my kids won't stop fighting, my husband has no clue what I'm feeling and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't care anyway. The bf is sympathetic and as comforting as he can be, but he's too far away. I can't talk to my parents, and I don't want to talk to the shrink. I'm full of rage at I don't know what that I can't express. I'm full of tears that won't fall. But basically, I think I'm full of shit, and I don't know how to fix any of this. I don't think there is a way to fix this. If I do win the lottery, I'm running away. There has to be something better than this shit.

In the meantime...will someone come and get me. I'm not having very much fun.

2002-12-06T14:23:00.000-08:00

Evidently I'm suffering from oral diarrhea--you know, one big vowel movement. I can't seem to shut up today. I was in the shower thinking about sex. So, let's talk about sex, baybeeeeee.....

My first husband was NOT a good lover. His idea of foreplay was "Brace Yourself" and half the time, I didn't have a chance to brace before it was all over. Why is it that most people don't take the time to find out what pleases their partner(s)? Why is it that the words penis and vagina cause giggles even in adults? Ok, the word penis is funny, I'll give you that, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I think Burt Bacharach sang "What the world needs now, is love, sweet love." He was wrong. What we need is sex communication education. Let's all work on that, shall we people? I think everyone would be in a better mood.

Now there are those of you who say that sex is not important. And you're right. Sex is a lot like money or air--it's not important unless you're not GETTING ANY! Admit it. You want it. I'm not saying that everyone should be having sex. Teenagers, inbred yay-hoos, and the truly deviant perverts shouldn't be getting any. But to those of you who should be getting some, get the right kind. Talk to your lover. Ask questions. Hell, ask for a diagram, a pie chart, anything to make it better. Even if your sex life is "perfect," there's always room for improvement.

Ok, and my last rant before this stupid post is over. Masturbation is NOT an evil thing. It never has been, and it never will be. I remember my mother telling me to keep my infant son's hands off his penis, and I said, "No way. It's his favorite toy, and the only one that I don't have to go digging under a filthy car seat looking for in the middle of the night if he mistakenly misplaces it." Guys....People....Humans....if you don't know what YOU like, how the hell are you going to tell someone else what you like? For those Christians who use the story of Onan in the Bible to say that masturbation is eeeeeeeeeeevil, you should rethink your position. First of all, Onan was NOT masturbating. Second, his mistake (ok, sin if you prefer) was that he did not impregnate the widow of his brother, as was custom in those days. He just didn't want to do it. He broke a law, but it wasn't by masturbating. The only way you can do that is if it's inappropriate. I think in a Starbucks would fit that description. Use your best judgement.

Anyway, the basic point to this rant is that everyone is all hung up on sex or sexual issues, and if we'd just get it right, there'd be a lot less talk and a lot more action. We love each other, right? Let's act like it. Oh....for those of you who are into the one-night stand, disregard everything I wrote above. Just get in, get off, and get out. If that works for you, more power to ya.

2002-12-06T14:11:00.000-08:00

Hi again. I would like to formally apologize to the great Zombie Christ for misdeeds I misdid at her expense. My objective was to make a joke, not cause offendedness or embarrassment; ergo, I have removed the offending information from my blog. All of you who have already read it, FUGGEDDABOUDDIT. All I can say in my defense is that I sneezed, no one blessed me, and I sureasshit got possessed. We've since called an old priest and a young priest, and everything is ok with the exception of my being schizoaffective. Zombs, you know I worship the quicksand you walk on....you rock. Love ya, babe...and I'm still sorry.

2002-12-06T13:08:00.000-08:00

Man, I have GOT to get these meds regulated. I slept until 3pm today, so I've accomplished nothing. Well, I did do the MSN crossword for the last 3 days that I've missed, but other than that...zip. I should count myself lucky that the doggies did not decide to pee in the house (or worse). Tonight, my son's gf is coming over, and we're gonna set up the giftmas tree. It should be vastly entertaining, considering my daughter trips over air currents. That much clumsiness should amount to the whole ordeal comparing very closely to a few monkeys trying to fuck a football. We'll see, and I'll keep you posted.

2002-12-05T23:50:00.000-08:00

FINALLY! A stupid PM to post. Ever since I started this blog, all the PMers have been behaving themselves. Until tonight, that is. A chatter in open chat said:

all_love66: dick is 10 inch - 23 c.m- i want to see asmall pussy or see a big ass please . can i see a pussy or a big ass ? please inviteme soon i want to see ass now or a pussy who can let me see her ? please inviteme to see and ...who can let me see her pussy or her ass ? plz i

So I replied: I see a big ass....all_love66

The ensuing PM went as follows:

all_love66: oh realy you have ?
wiccan_pot_pie: I said I SEE a big ass, and I meant YOU.
all_love66: can i see it please
wiccan_pot_pie: YOU ARE THE ASS, DUMBFUCK. If you want to see it, look in the mirror.
all_love66: bye

Ok, so it's not as good as Zombie's, but whose ever is? It was still amusing.

2002-12-05T21:01:00.000-08:00

I just read Zombie's latest post about the Mormons, and she briefly mentions holy-rolling. I didn't feel I would be doing you people justice if I didn't tell you MY experiences with holy rolling. First of all, let me say that I was raised by stark-raving Baptists who were sending me to HAIL (they were southern baptists) at every turn. So, when we switched to Presbyterianism after my mom married my step-dad, it was such a relief. Hell, that place was like a country club. In fact, I gave my first blow-job in the chapel at age 14. You gotta love a church that won't send you to HAIL for blowing your bf in the chapel. BTW, folks...that bf is the current bf. We reconnected after 20 years, and that's a long and metaphysical story, so I'll spare you. Besides, it's none of your business.

Anyway, my mother decided that I should be separated from this lovely lovely bf (with the lovely lovely cock I adored), and so she sent me to a "Full-gospel Christian" school for 10th grade. Recall that I was raised Baptist for most of my life, so I was accustomed to the occasional "AMEN" from the men of the church when something particularly moving to them was mentioned in the sermon. However, when the holy roller minister started praying, people all around me were saying things like "Yes, Jesus" and "Thank you, Jesus." I was like..ok, they're praying, and you're supposed to STFU! As if this weren't confusing enough, they started speaking in tongues. I have no comment on that other that to say that it freaked me out, and evidently, I was not issued the same mind-altering substances that they were prior to prayer & praise time. NOW. One time I went to an actual church service. It was much the same as prayer & praise time (which we got every friday afternoon at school) until people all around me started dropping like flies. I'm screaming CALL 9-1-1! No, officer, I never actually SAW the lightning bolts, but I just KNOW I was next. Scared the shit out of me. Someone later explained that these folks were being "slain in the spirit," and it was that God was touching them and it was too much for their blighted human bodies to take. Um....ok. And you guys will let me know when Elvis gets here, won't you?

These folks ALL need to re-read the book of Acts from their very own holy book, the Bible. If they'd read it, and UNDERSTAND it, they'd realize that these "gifts of the spirit" are no longer being given out. Sorry, guys. They had a closeout sale, and the last ones are just gone. So either a) quit faking it or b) find some intelligence. It's out there, I swear it.

I should've known better about these people though....one time I had my period and considerable cramps. They "laid hands" on me. Oh for fuck's sake, will you quit fondling me and give me some midol? I'm NOT in the mood. Perverts.

2002-12-05T20:45:00.000-08:00

Thursday already, and ER is now over. For those of you who don't "know" me, I LIVE for ER. ER is wonderful. ER is great. I believe it is directly penned by God him/herself. If you do NOT agree, keep it to yourself. Everyone is entitled to their delusions. That being said....off to my comments on life as I know it.

I told my daughter I was going to do this, so I'm going to, even though she won't read it. She has this friend on whom she's had a crush since elementary school. Now this kid is very cute, but I swear by all that's holy and some things that aren't, if the two of them ever have children together, I'm disowning them AND the grandkids. That much ADD should not be forced on one family. Anyway, this kid, who has sprouted into your average apathetic pre-teen, is totally and tubularly obsessed with skateboarding. I have no problem with that. What I have a problem with is that he has let his lovely blonde hair grow down almost to his shoulders and dyed it black. I saw him on the street the other day and asked him what the fuck he did to his hair. I'm serious here, people. This former cutie-pie now looks like the offspring between George Harrison in his Beatle days and Sonny Bono. Why do they do that to themselves? Why? Anyone? Beuller? Now, the bf's oldest son has expressed himself hair-tastically with shades of blue, green, and I believe it's now reddish-orange. However, HE doesn't look stupid. He looks uniquely cool. Then again, he IS uniquely cool. I love that kid...almost as much as my own son, who although he doesn't express himself in any manner that would be considered "socially unacceptable," is still cool. Besides, he loves his mommy, and you gotta appreciate him for that.

Ok. I did absolutely nothing today, since I mistook my tranquilizer for another pill I should've taken. Anyhow, I slept in for a LONG time. This was actually a good thing since the hubster decided to take the day off from work. I believe this may have been my fault, but I'm admitting nothing. See, I had this awful nightmare this morning, and when the alarm went off at 5 am for him to get up, I was already awake and jittery. I explained the nightmare to him, and he sat with me until I at least stopped shaking. THEN he took that opportunity to start talking about divorce. Please. Divorce is not a topic for pre-6 am discussion. Anyway, he wanted to make sure that I knew HE didn't want one and was making sure that I didn't want one. No. Not at 6 am. It requires my getting up and at least taking a shower, and that's entirely too early. Besides, I'm still not sure how much $ I'm getting from the state. Ok, ok...I know that sounds really really cruel and cold of me, but...goddammit. Shut up. Who asked you?

Anyway, he was having one of his boo-hoo insecure scorpio moments, and so I think I freudian-slippedly (ha!) took a tranq since he told me to call him off work. So I did, and then I went to sleep. He did do some nice things for me today, for which I was grateful. He took my sick child to the doctor and picked up her prescription as well. He also snow-plowed the driveway and picked up Burger King for dinner, but those things weren't for me. Trust me. The man is a BK/Tractor-aholic. Don't get me started on that. Yes, I was raised in the south, but NO I did not inherit the redneck gene. BTW, in case you're wondering, I did thank him in a most "wifely-duty" way. You don't need the details.

Let's see...what else is there? Oh yes, the daughter is STILL complaining about the new holes in her ears hurting her. All I can say is SHUT UP! YOU WANTED IT, YOU GOT IT! I've referred her to the small sign that hangs in my office that reads "You have the right to remain silent. So please SHUT UP!" I think it should say shut the FUCK up, but that's cuz I think everything is funnier with the word fuck in it.

Ok, my son is sitting here complaining about my little artwork disc representing the god Bacchus. It's lovely. The bf got it for me for giftmas last year. Anyway, the son is yelling that it's creeping him out cuz it looks like the god is staring at him. I've reassured him that Bacchus/Dionysus (sp?) was the god of wine, women, and debauchery, and if he is indeed staring at him, it's just to acknowledge a fellow pervert. I believe he feels better about it now. Speaking of the son, he has a new gf. She's a sweetie, and I love her to death. However, when she corrupts my baby, I'm going to have to hate her, and I'm having issues with that. Let's hope it's not for a long time. If it isn't, I've been drilling into this boy's head since age 11 "NO GLOVE, NO LOVE, BABY!" He's a good boy and listens to his mother. If either of my children make me a grandmother before age 40, I'm setting my phaser to KILL ANYTHING THAT MOVES.

More as it occurs...be sure and tune in. You know you love me.

2002-12-04T18:45:00.000-08:00

Ok, folks, what did we do today???? Well, first off, the boyfriend came to visit, much to the husband's dismay. Eh, fuck him. The husband's been walking around with a goddamn reindeer up his ass ever since thanksgiving. Some people have no sense of adventure. At any rate, we had a pretty good day, all things considered. We dropped the doggies off at the groomers cuz they smelled like....well....dogs. They smell all pretty & cinnamonny now, and will until they decide to go outside & roll in shit, which is one of their favorite pasttimes. They got pretty blue holiday bandanas too....and toothbrushes. How the FUCK am I supposed to get the dog to sit still to brush his teeth? Gods, I have enough trouble getting my kids to brush theirs. Whatever. Anyway, in between dropping off the dogs, we had wonderful chinese food, and then took my 12 year old daughter to get her ears pierced. She now has 3 holes in each ear and is complaining that her earlobes hurt. WELL GEE WILLIKERS, I FUCKING WONDER WHY??? I didn't complain when I got MY ears pierced. Not even when they did the cartilege. Psh. Wait til she gets a tattoo. Pussy.

But I digress...I actually did have a pretty good day with the few exceptions of Kate bitching and having to drive home with 2 over-anxious (albeit clean) dogs through the holiday traffic. I don't have to tell ANY of you how much that sucks.

Time with the bf was spabulous, as usual. It's just too bad that the kid had to come along. You know what it's like to be close to someone and absolutely CRAVE their touch and you can't do a fucking thing about it? Man, I was about to just throw him across a trunk display at the Flower Factory & ride the baloney pony to fuck-me-60-ways-from-sunday heaven. I should've done it. I don't go to the Flower Factory all that often, so being banned would've been worth it. Isn't there an old 70s song that asks what happens when you're with someone and the right one comes along? England Dan & John Ford Coley sang it, I think. However, as I was only 3 when the 70s started, I could be unreliable. The bottom line is I was ready for takeoff and got grounded. Life sucks sometimes. I need to move the fuck away from this place, and move closer to the bf. At least HIS wife doesn't care what he does. I had to come home to the husband--complete with ass reindeer--and listen to him bitch. Although it wasn't OVERT bitching. It was the little snide comments and the heavy sighs, etc. etc. Cry-baby. STFU!

I'm sure some of you will be making moral judgements on this post--regarding my having both husband and lover who are not the same person, but you know what? You don't have my life, and you don't know what I need and/or want, and you don't know what my values are. Ergo make your assumptions, but know this: sometimes, I'm getting WAY better sex than you are. Neener-neener.

Um...just not today. :(

2002-12-04T18:33:00.000-08:00

I can't get no....satisfaction