I had quite a harrowing experience this last weekend y'all! I was driving home after some dancing and drinking with a friend up in Maryland. She invited me to crash at her place just outside of D.C., but I always prefer to wake up in my own bed. As I was cruising down the highway through Northern Virginia at about 1:30 in the morning I started to get hungry! So I pulled off a random highway exit, and of course nothing was open. As I tried to find my way back to the highway, and while checking my replies on Twitter , I suddenly noticed that I was being pulled over by a damn cop!
Normally in this situation I'd look for an out, like not stopping the car until I passed over into the next county, but there was no such opportunity here. The best I could do was spray a bunch of fake Drakkar Noir air freshener to cover up the smell of weed and all the beer I'd spilled on my crotch at the bar. I finally came to a stop at a particularly unsafe spot in the road.
I quickly applied some horny-looking lip gloss. The cop appeared next to the car and started talking before I could even get my window rolled down. I couldn't peg this guy at first glance, because he wasn't young enough to be a prick, but also not old or ugly enough to accept a traditional booty bribe. He asked me to please turn down the volume of my Ke$ha album, and stop trying to light the wrong end of my cigarette. That's when I knew I was dealing with a total jerkface.
At his request I slowly and deliberately retrieved my license and registration from my purse (and I mean SLOWLY, cause I wasn't trying to get my taze on!). But I did let my emotions get the better of me, because as I was collecting these items I was calling him names and asking if he didn't have anything better to do, and also informing him that I didn't do nothing.
The officer took my stuff back to his car for what seemed like a really long time. Thankfully I have a clean record because I never get caught for anything. To keep it that way I had to take inventory of my situation. I had a handful of crushed Adderall in an envelope in the middle console, and I certainly didn't want to get caught with that, so I snorted it all up lickedy-split. Then I remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels under my seat.
Before he got a chance to finish what he was doing in his car I jumped out of my car's driver side door and stood there glaring. The loudspeaker came on, "Miss, get back in your vehicle!". I quickly unscrewed the cap from the booze and chugged about half of it. Now he'd never be able to prove that I'd been drunk before he pulled me over! Then I set the bottle on the ground, leaned up against a my car, and cross my arms like I was hot shit.
The officer slowly stepped out of his car and stalked over with a scary look in his eye and the smile of a man possessed. That's when his walkie-talkie went off with some emergency "Attention all units!" bullshit. He listened for a second more, then cut the volume down. "Looks like it's your lucky night, you fucking low-life. Try not to kill anybody, and don't you ever let me catch you around here again!". He threw my license and registration at my feet and walked briskly back to his car. Then he cut his sirens on and took off.
I drove home feeling pretty good about myself. My clean record stands, and I discovered that I had a nice fat joint in my cigarette pack to smoke on the ride home. You know how it is with weed and booze sometimes! I was so damn tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. The next thing I was started awake while driving 40mph down the wrong side of a road with both left tires in a drainage ditch! I was able to pull back onto the road, but when I got home all the grass and shit from the edge of the ditch was stuck up under my muffler and catalytic converter, and some of it was on fire! I threw a bunch of rocks and sand from our driveway at it until the fire went out. You know, that cop wasn't kidding. It really was my lucky night!
.
Tuesday, April 27
Monday, April 12
Backstage bound!
I was brought up to appreciate a good rock concert. I had a wild older cousin named Lazarus who used to take me to all kinds of shows before he died. He said it was important for my education. We'd go to see the heaviest bands, and scam drugs in the shadiest parking lots. I was young and timid at my first few shows. Then I got the hang of it! Now I thrash out with my fuckin' rash out, and it's just about the best release I've ever known!
I decided it was time to teach my daughter the ways, so I treated us to a recent concert at one of Richmond's hottest venues. It was some sort of indie rock band, which sounds really lame, but at least it's rock. Y'all remember rock? It was that shit we used to get pregnant to before rap showed up and took over as the official soundtrack of teenage sex and not pulling out like a gentleman. But I digress.
Darla wasn't sure how to dress because she didn't know the band either, but I knew what to do. When it comes to concerts you can never go wrong with sleazy high heels and slutty ripped jeans, fishnet accents, and no bra. We got to the show about the time the openers were done, so there was a 20 minute window to meet the band early. I tried to convince Darla to help me blow these two bouncers at the side entrance to get us backstage, but she helpfully pointed out that they were actually just a couple of overweight dudes waiting for a bus.
After getting our tickets at will call, having our purses checked, and swallowing a sleeve of crushed amphetamines in the bathroom, we were just in time to see the headliners. The view from the back was boring, so it was time to enlighten my daughter on another fine point of rock concert theory: Reaching the front row at all costs.
Once you weave through the first few layers of people who seem to need their own personal space, you start to find yourself in a rather impermeable concentration of people. Dudes will widen their stance or stiffen up to block you out if you're all "'scuse me...'scuse me", so forget that noise. Don't say a word until you're ready to make your move. Then punch whichever elbow is attached to their drink hand, and when they turn to look you just slide around the other side of 'em.
At around the fourth row we came upon a group of real hard asses. These kids didn't have drinks or anything, but they weren't about to move for anyone. The show started so we had to lay low for a bit. I held up my cell phone and filmed the performance of the first two songs for my blog, but I won't post it because the video came out like shit. Then I really needed a cigarette, so I smoked it secretly by cupping it inside of my hand, and blowing all the smoke into the full, curly hair of the girl in front of me.
The crowd got really excited when they heard the intro to the next song, so I used the distraction to slip the air horn out from the large make-up bag in my purse. Then I started blaring it into my armpit where no body could see each time the singer sang the chorus. As the bouncers moved in from the front I slipped the horn into the tote-style purse that the girl in front of me was carrying, and I began pointing at her from behind. She and her friend were carried off, and me and Darla were in the third row! And with the use of proper timing and clumsy dancing we quickly made it up to the front!
What's so important about being in the front row, you ask? Well you never know, you might end up like Courtney Cox or something! In fact, Darla got invited back stage herself, and she brought me along because I was her ride! Unfortunately I had to sit outside the lounge on a folding chair while listening to three roadies gangbang my daughter in the next room. It was silly if you ask me! Don't they know about the pleasures that only a freaky groupie cougar-milf can bring?!
.
I decided it was time to teach my daughter the ways, so I treated us to a recent concert at one of Richmond's hottest venues. It was some sort of indie rock band, which sounds really lame, but at least it's rock. Y'all remember rock? It was that shit we used to get pregnant to before rap showed up and took over as the official soundtrack of teenage sex and not pulling out like a gentleman. But I digress.
Darla wasn't sure how to dress because she didn't know the band either, but I knew what to do. When it comes to concerts you can never go wrong with sleazy high heels and slutty ripped jeans, fishnet accents, and no bra. We got to the show about the time the openers were done, so there was a 20 minute window to meet the band early. I tried to convince Darla to help me blow these two bouncers at the side entrance to get us backstage, but she helpfully pointed out that they were actually just a couple of overweight dudes waiting for a bus.
After getting our tickets at will call, having our purses checked, and swallowing a sleeve of crushed amphetamines in the bathroom, we were just in time to see the headliners. The view from the back was boring, so it was time to enlighten my daughter on another fine point of rock concert theory: Reaching the front row at all costs.
Once you weave through the first few layers of people who seem to need their own personal space, you start to find yourself in a rather impermeable concentration of people. Dudes will widen their stance or stiffen up to block you out if you're all "'scuse me...'scuse me", so forget that noise. Don't say a word until you're ready to make your move. Then punch whichever elbow is attached to their drink hand, and when they turn to look you just slide around the other side of 'em.
At around the fourth row we came upon a group of real hard asses. These kids didn't have drinks or anything, but they weren't about to move for anyone. The show started so we had to lay low for a bit. I held up my cell phone and filmed the performance of the first two songs for my blog, but I won't post it because the video came out like shit. Then I really needed a cigarette, so I smoked it secretly by cupping it inside of my hand, and blowing all the smoke into the full, curly hair of the girl in front of me.
The crowd got really excited when they heard the intro to the next song, so I used the distraction to slip the air horn out from the large make-up bag in my purse. Then I started blaring it into my armpit where no body could see each time the singer sang the chorus. As the bouncers moved in from the front I slipped the horn into the tote-style purse that the girl in front of me was carrying, and I began pointing at her from behind. She and her friend were carried off, and me and Darla were in the third row! And with the use of proper timing and clumsy dancing we quickly made it up to the front!
What's so important about being in the front row, you ask? Well you never know, you might end up like Courtney Cox or something! In fact, Darla got invited back stage herself, and she brought me along because I was her ride! Unfortunately I had to sit outside the lounge on a folding chair while listening to three roadies gangbang my daughter in the next room. It was silly if you ask me! Don't they know about the pleasures that only a freaky groupie cougar-milf can bring?!
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Thursday, April 1
Funny bunny!
When I need a break from the distractions of life, I simply take some time to get in touch with my spirituality. I usually do this by dropping acid and walking around in public places. This activity allows me to see things as they are, without the oppression of my conscious mind. So last year, on Easter Sunday, I woke up early and dropped five hits of LSD. Then I drove out to Maymont Park, which I thought would be quiet for the holiday.
Well as it turns out, everybody goes to Maymont on Easter, and they bring their kids. There's Easter egg hunts and everything. It seemed like a bit too much of a crowd for the state I was in, but at least they were all in a good mood. I began to feel pretty weird, so I wandered to the safety of the "bamboo forest" area and snuck around through the tall bamboo.
I lost my bearings a bit in there, but felt pretty safe. It was quiet. I took out my one-hitter and took a had a nice fat hit of some weed to smooth things over. As I finished my exhale a fast moving Vietnamese family of four came hiking through a side trail and right through my smoke. Why does weird stuff like that always happen when you're tripping? We may never know.
Although my stomach felt dull and numb I sensed that I had to pee. This was bad, because the bathrooms at Maymont can be weird. They're these small, echoey out-buildings. Most of the light is coming from the opened rectangle windows along the top of the walls. This creates an refraction of light and outside sounds that can be dangerous to the psychologically sensitive. I decided to focus and just get it over with.
I kept my head down, hurried into a stall, and did my business. Knowing the danger, I glanced quickly at the mirror on my way back out. I couldn't help but notice that I had a long diagonal pen mark across my neck. I decided to try to get it off with some wet paper towel. Ten minutes later I'm walking back out of the restroom with part of my neck rubbed red raw and water all over my messed up shirt collar. Stupid mirrors! They always get me!
I wandered around the back of one of the maintenance buildings and sat down to get some peace. That's when, out of nowhere, the cutest little calico bunny appeared around the other side by some bushes. I stayed still as he casually hopped over. I held out some tender grass for him to eat, and before I knew it I was holding him, eyes shut, fully in tune. I have no idea how long this went on.
My trance was broken by a screaming girl, followed by a boy, both of whom had discovered me and my bunny. I looked down and the stupid thing was lifeless in my arms, eyes all bugged out. Apparently it was extremely diseased or something because it's neck was all bloated and wormy looking. I guess that would explain it's unexpected friendliness. I jumped up, tossed it's body into one of the kid's little baskets, and calmly walked away toward the exit of the park.
At first I put the whole experience down to just being a bad trip. But now that I've examined that day further, I realize that I learned something. I learned that the conscious mind is there for a reason, and it's best not to leave it unguarded. That's why I get shitfaced each night before bed. It keeps me from having any more realistic dreams about that fucking rabbit.
.
Well as it turns out, everybody goes to Maymont on Easter, and they bring their kids. There's Easter egg hunts and everything. It seemed like a bit too much of a crowd for the state I was in, but at least they were all in a good mood. I began to feel pretty weird, so I wandered to the safety of the "bamboo forest" area and snuck around through the tall bamboo.
I lost my bearings a bit in there, but felt pretty safe. It was quiet. I took out my one-hitter and took a had a nice fat hit of some weed to smooth things over. As I finished my exhale a fast moving Vietnamese family of four came hiking through a side trail and right through my smoke. Why does weird stuff like that always happen when you're tripping? We may never know.
Although my stomach felt dull and numb I sensed that I had to pee. This was bad, because the bathrooms at Maymont can be weird. They're these small, echoey out-buildings. Most of the light is coming from the opened rectangle windows along the top of the walls. This creates an refraction of light and outside sounds that can be dangerous to the psychologically sensitive. I decided to focus and just get it over with.
I kept my head down, hurried into a stall, and did my business. Knowing the danger, I glanced quickly at the mirror on my way back out. I couldn't help but notice that I had a long diagonal pen mark across my neck. I decided to try to get it off with some wet paper towel. Ten minutes later I'm walking back out of the restroom with part of my neck rubbed red raw and water all over my messed up shirt collar. Stupid mirrors! They always get me!
I wandered around the back of one of the maintenance buildings and sat down to get some peace. That's when, out of nowhere, the cutest little calico bunny appeared around the other side by some bushes. I stayed still as he casually hopped over. I held out some tender grass for him to eat, and before I knew it I was holding him, eyes shut, fully in tune. I have no idea how long this went on.
My trance was broken by a screaming girl, followed by a boy, both of whom had discovered me and my bunny. I looked down and the stupid thing was lifeless in my arms, eyes all bugged out. Apparently it was extremely diseased or something because it's neck was all bloated and wormy looking. I guess that would explain it's unexpected friendliness. I jumped up, tossed it's body into one of the kid's little baskets, and calmly walked away toward the exit of the park.
At first I put the whole experience down to just being a bad trip. But now that I've examined that day further, I realize that I learned something. I learned that the conscious mind is there for a reason, and it's best not to leave it unguarded. That's why I get shitfaced each night before bed. It keeps me from having any more realistic dreams about that fucking rabbit.
.
Thursday, March 25
Home buyers remorse!
When my ex-husband Kevin and I bought our first house we were so excited. But then Kevin got called up for active duty, leaving me alone in a new home with our daughter Darla, who was only 5 at the time. I wasn't very comfortable with the idea, but we didn't have a choice. Unfortunately my instincts were right! That hundred-year-old dump was haunted as shit!
I'd originally set up the master bedroom in the back of the house, but there was something really wrong with that space. At night I'd have trouble sleeping because I was hearing deep whispering voices accompanied by a chill breeze, and a strange smell like a burnt up wig. Sometimes I'd be woken up from what felt like a cold hard slap across my tits.
My daughter Darla slept more deeply than I did, so I made her move in there. On the very first night she came into my room at around 3 a.m. crying about nightmares and asking to sleep in my bed. I said, "No ma'am!". I sent her right back in and locked the door from the outside. Sorry, but I didn't need her "bringing something back" while I was trying to get my rest!
After about a week I noticed that she was developing strange fears, like fear of the dark, and mirrors, and teeth, and her bedroom. I had to figure out something before things got any worse. I went out and bought a Ouija board. I kept asking questions and hurling insults, but as soon as the little oracle started to move around in response I would toss it off the board so the spirits wouldn't get a chance to speak. Then I just burned the board.
Darla kept a complaining about hearing voices and getting shoved around, so I went online to look for answers. I discovered a method that sounded just crazy enough to work. I called in a favor from a friend at the morgue who scored me a jug full of blood that he'd drained from a dead whore. I baptized my daughter in that room with the blood, surrounded by decorative black candles. I couldn't believe it, but it worked! Things were calm for several nights in a row! I immediately put the house on the market, and it was sold within a week to another unsuspecting young couple.
What's really weird is how I forgot all about this experience until just the other day. I was browsing through Target when a frail, elderly woman came around the corner of an aisle and gazed with worry into my eyes. The she leaned forward a bit, grabbed my wrist, and dry-heaved. She looked up, pointed at me with her other hand and said, "I know what you did in that house! You've cursed your daughter for all her life!".
After the initial shock I yelled, "Fuck that!!".
"Your horrible deed that night led to her miscarriage!", she scolded. I didn't know what else to say, so I just yanked my arm loose and hurried back up the aisle. She hollered after me, "She'll never be free! And that family you sold the house to? They're all dead!". I could not believe she had the nerve to say that. What a crazy old bitch!
_
I'd originally set up the master bedroom in the back of the house, but there was something really wrong with that space. At night I'd have trouble sleeping because I was hearing deep whispering voices accompanied by a chill breeze, and a strange smell like a burnt up wig. Sometimes I'd be woken up from what felt like a cold hard slap across my tits.
My daughter Darla slept more deeply than I did, so I made her move in there. On the very first night she came into my room at around 3 a.m. crying about nightmares and asking to sleep in my bed. I said, "No ma'am!". I sent her right back in and locked the door from the outside. Sorry, but I didn't need her "bringing something back" while I was trying to get my rest!
After about a week I noticed that she was developing strange fears, like fear of the dark, and mirrors, and teeth, and her bedroom. I had to figure out something before things got any worse. I went out and bought a Ouija board. I kept asking questions and hurling insults, but as soon as the little oracle started to move around in response I would toss it off the board so the spirits wouldn't get a chance to speak. Then I just burned the board.
Darla kept a complaining about hearing voices and getting shoved around, so I went online to look for answers. I discovered a method that sounded just crazy enough to work. I called in a favor from a friend at the morgue who scored me a jug full of blood that he'd drained from a dead whore. I baptized my daughter in that room with the blood, surrounded by decorative black candles. I couldn't believe it, but it worked! Things were calm for several nights in a row! I immediately put the house on the market, and it was sold within a week to another unsuspecting young couple.
What's really weird is how I forgot all about this experience until just the other day. I was browsing through Target when a frail, elderly woman came around the corner of an aisle and gazed with worry into my eyes. The she leaned forward a bit, grabbed my wrist, and dry-heaved. She looked up, pointed at me with her other hand and said, "I know what you did in that house! You've cursed your daughter for all her life!".
After the initial shock I yelled, "Fuck that!!".
"Your horrible deed that night led to her miscarriage!", she scolded. I didn't know what else to say, so I just yanked my arm loose and hurried back up the aisle. She hollered after me, "She'll never be free! And that family you sold the house to? They're all dead!". I could not believe she had the nerve to say that. What a crazy old bitch!
_
Wednesday, March 17
The curse of St. Pat!
I was lucky enough to inherit my beautiful head of red hair from my grandfather, a hardworking Irish immigrant. He always used to say that I had, "a merry bit of Ireland" in my eyes. He passed away when I was very young, but I never forgot about him. And I was delighted when I discovered that my first child, Darla, was born with his same smile!
As y'all know, it was my mom who took care of Darla for the first few months of her life. Mother was terribly upset when I swooped in later and took Darla away with me to live. She told me that it wasn't fair to either of them, after letting her get attached. I told her, "Too bad, bitch! It's MY baby!". It was pretty hardcore.
Like all young mothers, I loved my baby as much as I loved to party! So naturally I was pissed when St. Patrick's Day rolled around and I couldn't find a babysitter (I wouldn't give Mother the satisfaction!). Rather than be stuck at home I just decided to take Darla out on the town with me. She wasn't looking very festive as a brunette, so I dyed her hair orange and bought her a green-lettered "Party Till You Puke!" onesie.
It actually worked out great because drunk people love babies! Folks were buying me drinks and we were dancing and having a great time. As the night wore on I had bar hopped until there weren't any more bars to hop to. Little Darla was passed out on my shoulder like an angel. As I strolled back to my apartment I heard some janky ho calling me from a nearby stoop. She coughed and asked me if I wanted to huff some green paint! I'd never tried that before, so I did.
Of course being a lightweight at the time, I couldn't handle my fumes! I got dizzy as shit and could barely stop myself from getting sick. I stumbled for a block or two, but couldn't go any further. I laid Darla down on the trunk of a parked car and sat down on the curb so I could put my head between my knees. As the nausea subsided a bit I heard a car door slam shut.
As I opened my eyes I noticed that the parked car was driving off with Darla on it! Thank god there was a red light at the next intersection. I managed to grab her just before she rolled off! The driver noticed something was up and got out of the car. I panicked. All I could think to do was to grab a hunk of loose asphalt from the gutter and throw it at his head! I heard him scream out as I hurried back up the one-way street.
As if that weren't enough, I ended up getting stuck in the apartment with my baby for several days because the police told the newspaper and local TV stations that they were looking for a crazed woman with green paint on her mouth carrying an orange baby. Take it from me kids and don't mess around with spray paint. That crap does not want to wash off!
.
As y'all know, it was my mom who took care of Darla for the first few months of her life. Mother was terribly upset when I swooped in later and took Darla away with me to live. She told me that it wasn't fair to either of them, after letting her get attached. I told her, "Too bad, bitch! It's MY baby!". It was pretty hardcore.
Like all young mothers, I loved my baby as much as I loved to party! So naturally I was pissed when St. Patrick's Day rolled around and I couldn't find a babysitter (I wouldn't give Mother the satisfaction!). Rather than be stuck at home I just decided to take Darla out on the town with me. She wasn't looking very festive as a brunette, so I dyed her hair orange and bought her a green-lettered "Party Till You Puke!" onesie.
It actually worked out great because drunk people love babies! Folks were buying me drinks and we were dancing and having a great time. As the night wore on I had bar hopped until there weren't any more bars to hop to. Little Darla was passed out on my shoulder like an angel. As I strolled back to my apartment I heard some janky ho calling me from a nearby stoop. She coughed and asked me if I wanted to huff some green paint! I'd never tried that before, so I did.
Of course being a lightweight at the time, I couldn't handle my fumes! I got dizzy as shit and could barely stop myself from getting sick. I stumbled for a block or two, but couldn't go any further. I laid Darla down on the trunk of a parked car and sat down on the curb so I could put my head between my knees. As the nausea subsided a bit I heard a car door slam shut.
As I opened my eyes I noticed that the parked car was driving off with Darla on it! Thank god there was a red light at the next intersection. I managed to grab her just before she rolled off! The driver noticed something was up and got out of the car. I panicked. All I could think to do was to grab a hunk of loose asphalt from the gutter and throw it at his head! I heard him scream out as I hurried back up the one-way street.
As if that weren't enough, I ended up getting stuck in the apartment with my baby for several days because the police told the newspaper and local TV stations that they were looking for a crazed woman with green paint on her mouth carrying an orange baby. Take it from me kids and don't mess around with spray paint. That crap does not want to wash off!
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Thursday, March 11
Little punks!
My son Brandon has always been a bit of a loner. He's not really into stuff that the other boys are into, like sports and breaking things. I've tried my best with him, but no matter what I do he keeps quietly reading books and listening to all kind of pussy music on the local "indie" radio station. Well now I've got some new concerns, mostly with this new group of friends he's been hanging out with.
Now I realize these boys are just fourth graders, but I get the feeling that they're up to no good! One of them is named Matt, and they all love to hang out at his house because it's close to the school and his mom doesn't care that they like to play outside all the time (even though I called her and told her that they're safer inside). She also lets them play Guitar Hero even though that music is full of bad messages and satanic stuff that their minds aren't ready for.
Another thing that bothers me is how they all dress like little preppies in clothes that look like they came from The Gap. To me there's just something wrong with a kid that doesn't want to dress like a schizophrenic homeless person. Brandon insists that their parents make them wear that stuff but I'm not so sure. They look a little too comfortable in those khakis.
I've also been noticing that a couple of them spike their hair up like little jerks, and sometimes wear bracelets or necklaces that are supposedly made for boys. Thankfully Brandon already knows better than to wear that kind of stuff. Hopefully before he's tempted to try anything like that he'll remember how I grounded him for a month during Summer vacation when I caught him drinking out of one of the pink tumblers from the cupboard.
But what's really weird about his little pals is how they really mind their parents, and they all get pretty good grades. That's just not normal for 9-year-olds! It's been rubbing off on Brandon too. He been even more serious lately about things like his homework and his manners. It's driving me nuts! I'm starting to suspect that one of his little asshole friends is slipping him some A.D.D. medication or something. If this crap keeps up I'm going to forbid him from playing with those boys (at least until he graduates elementary school).
_
Now I realize these boys are just fourth graders, but I get the feeling that they're up to no good! One of them is named Matt, and they all love to hang out at his house because it's close to the school and his mom doesn't care that they like to play outside all the time (even though I called her and told her that they're safer inside). She also lets them play Guitar Hero even though that music is full of bad messages and satanic stuff that their minds aren't ready for.
Another thing that bothers me is how they all dress like little preppies in clothes that look like they came from The Gap. To me there's just something wrong with a kid that doesn't want to dress like a schizophrenic homeless person. Brandon insists that their parents make them wear that stuff but I'm not so sure. They look a little too comfortable in those khakis.
I've also been noticing that a couple of them spike their hair up like little jerks, and sometimes wear bracelets or necklaces that are supposedly made for boys. Thankfully Brandon already knows better than to wear that kind of stuff. Hopefully before he's tempted to try anything like that he'll remember how I grounded him for a month during Summer vacation when I caught him drinking out of one of the pink tumblers from the cupboard.
But what's really weird about his little pals is how they really mind their parents, and they all get pretty good grades. That's just not normal for 9-year-olds! It's been rubbing off on Brandon too. He been even more serious lately about things like his homework and his manners. It's driving me nuts! I'm starting to suspect that one of his little asshole friends is slipping him some A.D.D. medication or something. If this crap keeps up I'm going to forbid him from playing with those boys (at least until he graduates elementary school).
_
Tuesday, February 23
Phil is busy!
My new hubby Phil is at it again. I keep telling him that his damn friends need to stop calling here, asking him to go do stuff with them. Phil's a married man, which means his ass is busy! He doesn't have time to go whorin' around with his blotchy-faced buddies at the off-tracking betting parlor or whatever! So tonight and every night, he's here at my goddamn beck and call because the bitch knows what's good for him!
He doesn't know it, but I overheard him the other day, talking about how much he misses hunting season with the boys, or the occasional week in Vegas. He even had the nerve to refer to all his vacation time as wasted on what he referred to as "Jocelyncations". Apparently he doesn't like being forced to go with me when I visit my peoples in Jacksonville every year. Tough tit, hubby. That's your job!
He's also been trying to sneak out with his friends on weekends, especially during football season. But then I catch on and remind him that I need him to drive me and my friends down to the Wicker Barn (wicker outlet!) in Augusta, Georgia. He should be happy! This is his chance to drive his precious Caliber , while me and my girls get drunk in the passenger seats and laugh and carry on like a bunch of cackling hens!
In an effort to keep the peace, I've made a deal with Phil. For one night each month I'll stay home and babysit my kids so he can go out and do something he wants to do. The only condition is that he needs to bring my preteen son Brandon along so the boy can learn from being around the guys. What he doesn't know is that Brandon is mommy's little snitch, so if there's any funny business it's Phil's ass!
_
He doesn't know it, but I overheard him the other day, talking about how much he misses hunting season with the boys, or the occasional week in Vegas. He even had the nerve to refer to all his vacation time as wasted on what he referred to as "Jocelyncations". Apparently he doesn't like being forced to go with me when I visit my peoples in Jacksonville every year. Tough tit, hubby. That's your job!
He's also been trying to sneak out with his friends on weekends, especially during football season. But then I catch on and remind him that I need him to drive me and my friends down to the Wicker Barn (wicker outlet!) in Augusta, Georgia. He should be happy! This is his chance to drive his precious Caliber , while me and my girls get drunk in the passenger seats and laugh and carry on like a bunch of cackling hens!
In an effort to keep the peace, I've made a deal with Phil. For one night each month I'll stay home and babysit my kids so he can go out and do something he wants to do. The only condition is that he needs to bring my preteen son Brandon along so the boy can learn from being around the guys. What he doesn't know is that Brandon is mommy's little snitch, so if there's any funny business it's Phil's ass!
_
Thursday, February 18
Unhappy hour!
The folks at work have been treating me differently ever since I took over the office. I understand if they're apprehensive about being friends with me. I'm their boss now. I've also fired all their stupid friends, so naturally they're worried about their own jobs. Still, it's only business. There's no need for them to be a bitches about it!
What really sucks is how I never get to hear any good gossip or anything because nobody ever wants to chat with me, or take smoke breaks together. The only time I hear about anything juicy is when I'm eavesdropping. So on Tuesday afternoon, while monitoring a few people's personal calls through our phone system, I heard one of the girls talking about how they were all going to happy hour that night. Nobody invited me, so I had to invite myself!
Buffalo Wild Wings is a favorite spot for the gang at my office. Everybody was happily sipping their first drink when I showed up. It looked like some of them even brought friends. They didn't even see me coming as I bumped up into the group with a "Hey, y'all! What're y'all doing here?!". They weakly greeted me. I could tell that they needed my help to get the fun started!
I headed over to the bar and ordered everyone a shooter that an old bartender friend of mine said he named after me: The HPV. I'm not sure what the name means, but it's made of hot sauce and cranberry vodka, and it gets you fuuuucked up! I brought 'em over to the table on a tray. I couldn't believe that a few people didn't want one! I turned on the pressure and convinced everyone to try it. This was supposed to be a party, after all!
I took a moment to teach everybody how to take this special shot. You place it on the table, wrap your lips around the shot glass, sit up, and tip your head back. Once you've swallowed the shot you've got hold the glass there with your lips and use your tongue to lick the inside of it clean. You should have seen them! They were all chocking and gagging like a bunch of punks, and I was laughing my ass off!
After that I slipped off to the bathroom where I ran into the new wife of Andrew, our youngest associate. She said that he had invited her along to meet everyone. I told her not to be nervous, and asked her if she wanted a bump of coke to help her socialize. She said okay because she was feeling a little anxious. Then the bitch proceeded to snort up a big fat line I had just cut for myself right off the bathroom counter. I was impressed!
We got back to the group and she starts acting really weird. She was all bug-eyed and asking everyone if they wanted to go party somewhere. I didn't want anyone to think that I had given her anything so I just left. On my way to my car I stopped to let all the air out of the tire of the girl whose call I'd monitored earlier. Serves her right for not inviting me!
So imagine my surprise when Andrew comes storming into my office this morning in a pissed off mood. Apparently his wife had kicked a drug habit before they'd met and now she's back on coke. They got in a fight and she's already left him to stay with her old drug dealer ex-boyfriend. How was I supposed to know that bitch was a junky? I told Andrew that he could have the afternoon off to go get his wife back. He didn't seem very happy with that suggestion, so I told him to get out of my face before I fired his ass.
_
What really sucks is how I never get to hear any good gossip or anything because nobody ever wants to chat with me, or take smoke breaks together. The only time I hear about anything juicy is when I'm eavesdropping. So on Tuesday afternoon, while monitoring a few people's personal calls through our phone system, I heard one of the girls talking about how they were all going to happy hour that night. Nobody invited me, so I had to invite myself!
Buffalo Wild Wings is a favorite spot for the gang at my office. Everybody was happily sipping their first drink when I showed up. It looked like some of them even brought friends. They didn't even see me coming as I bumped up into the group with a "Hey, y'all! What're y'all doing here?!". They weakly greeted me. I could tell that they needed my help to get the fun started!
I headed over to the bar and ordered everyone a shooter that an old bartender friend of mine said he named after me: The HPV. I'm not sure what the name means, but it's made of hot sauce and cranberry vodka, and it gets you fuuuucked up! I brought 'em over to the table on a tray. I couldn't believe that a few people didn't want one! I turned on the pressure and convinced everyone to try it. This was supposed to be a party, after all!
I took a moment to teach everybody how to take this special shot. You place it on the table, wrap your lips around the shot glass, sit up, and tip your head back. Once you've swallowed the shot you've got hold the glass there with your lips and use your tongue to lick the inside of it clean. You should have seen them! They were all chocking and gagging like a bunch of punks, and I was laughing my ass off!
After that I slipped off to the bathroom where I ran into the new wife of Andrew, our youngest associate. She said that he had invited her along to meet everyone. I told her not to be nervous, and asked her if she wanted a bump of coke to help her socialize. She said okay because she was feeling a little anxious. Then the bitch proceeded to snort up a big fat line I had just cut for myself right off the bathroom counter. I was impressed!
We got back to the group and she starts acting really weird. She was all bug-eyed and asking everyone if they wanted to go party somewhere. I didn't want anyone to think that I had given her anything so I just left. On my way to my car I stopped to let all the air out of the tire of the girl whose call I'd monitored earlier. Serves her right for not inviting me!
So imagine my surprise when Andrew comes storming into my office this morning in a pissed off mood. Apparently his wife had kicked a drug habit before they'd met and now she's back on coke. They got in a fight and she's already left him to stay with her old drug dealer ex-boyfriend. How was I supposed to know that bitch was a junky? I told Andrew that he could have the afternoon off to go get his wife back. He didn't seem very happy with that suggestion, so I told him to get out of my face before I fired his ass.
_
Wednesday, February 10
My horny Valentine!
Y'all give me a hard time, like I'm some kind of bitch. Well I'll have you know that I'm a very romantic, giving kind of woman! And even though I enjoy a "open relationship" (don't tell my husband!), I always show him an amazing time come Valentine's Day. It's a good wife's duty!
The first gift I'll offer my hubby is a jumbo 7-11 Valentine's card. Inside he'll find a fresh copy of his favorite porno mag. Who needs the chafing associated with cheap lingerie when you can get the same effect by laying a copy of Juggs magazine across your back?
Of course we'll send the kids to babysitter for the night so we don't keep them up with all our loud freaky sex! We'll end up doing it on the sink, in the baby's crib, and maybe on a loose bed of my grandfather's ashes. And when that's done, we'll fondle each other with cold cuts in front of the fridge à la 9½ Weeks.
There are several other sexy tricks I use to get Phil off. But his favorite is when I crush beer cans by slapping them against the counter with my floppy left tit. He also likes when I grind on top of him in reverse cowgirl wearing a Michael Vick jersey and matching jelly shoes.
But enough about us! Valentine's Day isn't just about committed relationships like mine. It's about old fashioned romance! Young love! You guys can go cheap when a girl is still smitten! Just bring a homemade card and a little McDonald's surf n' turf. The gift doesn't have to be pricey either. Might I suggest a lovely crack stem rose from the gas station? Don't forget the Chore Boy!
The first gift I'll offer my hubby is a jumbo 7-11 Valentine's card. Inside he'll find a fresh copy of his favorite porno mag. Who needs the chafing associated with cheap lingerie when you can get the same effect by laying a copy of Juggs magazine across your back?
Of course we'll send the kids to babysitter for the night so we don't keep them up with all our loud freaky sex! We'll end up doing it on the sink, in the baby's crib, and maybe on a loose bed of my grandfather's ashes. And when that's done, we'll fondle each other with cold cuts in front of the fridge à la 9½ Weeks.
There are several other sexy tricks I use to get Phil off. But his favorite is when I crush beer cans by slapping them against the counter with my floppy left tit. He also likes when I grind on top of him in reverse cowgirl wearing a Michael Vick jersey and matching jelly shoes.
But enough about us! Valentine's Day isn't just about committed relationships like mine. It's about old fashioned romance! Young love! You guys can go cheap when a girl is still smitten! Just bring a homemade card and a little McDonald's surf n' turf. The gift doesn't have to be pricey either. Might I suggest a lovely crack stem rose from the gas station? Don't forget the Chore Boy!
Thursday, February 4
Losin' the weight!
Bikini season is right around the corner, folks, and it's time to lose those Winter pounds! A few of the girls at the office have had success with Alli, so I've been giving that a whirl. Unfortunately you can't eat badly on this stuff because it turns your food's fat content into a heavy orange grease. This nasty stuff ends up leaking right out of you like liquid gold!
I've had to resort to wearing adult diapers everywhere. It's not easy because they fill up quick, so instead of sexy love handles I've got a soggy diaper muffin-topping over the waist of my low-rise jeans. And try flushing one of those babies down! It turns even the most powerful toilet into a Bangkok stew pot. But at least I get to eat what I like!
Of course I'm still trying to cut back and be sensible. Instead of ordering a Triple Whopper from Burger King I've decided to settle on the Double. That's a savings of over 250 calories! Or instead of a tasty Big Mac, I just ask for two Big Mac Wraps. Low carbs means more yummy meat for me!
I've also been forced to stop buying snacks for the kids. Those tasty single-serving packs just tempt me too much! I always catch myself eating up their Lunchables, or polishing off a whole box of Fruit Roll-ups. The cupboard is so empty that I've had to give them my Dexatrims to bring for their snack at school.
I'm also encouraging my hubby Phil to shed a few pounds. But I'm not nagging the poor man; I'm using modern behavioural training techniques. When I catch him eating fattening foods I'll sneak up and perform a "Cup and Serve". Simply put, I fart quietly into my own hand, "cupping" the gas, then open my palm to "serve" it in Phil's face. It always succeeds in putting him off his food!
And yes, I've cheated a little! I've gorged on the occasional bucket of chicken here or there. But I always make up for it by getting my next lunch at Subway. I'd eat there more, but it's not very appetizing. Their employees tend to forget that the food safety gloves exist to protect our food, not just to protect their hands from money, trash, and cold cut juice.
_
I've had to resort to wearing adult diapers everywhere. It's not easy because they fill up quick, so instead of sexy love handles I've got a soggy diaper muffin-topping over the waist of my low-rise jeans. And try flushing one of those babies down! It turns even the most powerful toilet into a Bangkok stew pot. But at least I get to eat what I like!
Of course I'm still trying to cut back and be sensible. Instead of ordering a Triple Whopper from Burger King I've decided to settle on the Double. That's a savings of over 250 calories! Or instead of a tasty Big Mac, I just ask for two Big Mac Wraps. Low carbs means more yummy meat for me!
I've also been forced to stop buying snacks for the kids. Those tasty single-serving packs just tempt me too much! I always catch myself eating up their Lunchables, or polishing off a whole box of Fruit Roll-ups. The cupboard is so empty that I've had to give them my Dexatrims to bring for their snack at school.
I'm also encouraging my hubby Phil to shed a few pounds. But I'm not nagging the poor man; I'm using modern behavioural training techniques. When I catch him eating fattening foods I'll sneak up and perform a "Cup and Serve". Simply put, I fart quietly into my own hand, "cupping" the gas, then open my palm to "serve" it in Phil's face. It always succeeds in putting him off his food!
And yes, I've cheated a little! I've gorged on the occasional bucket of chicken here or there. But I always make up for it by getting my next lunch at Subway. I'd eat there more, but it's not very appetizing. Their employees tend to forget that the food safety gloves exist to protect our food, not just to protect their hands from money, trash, and cold cut juice.
_
Friday, January 29
Blessed day!
My sweet doggie Muffin has been found! One of my peoples down in Southside called me up and said she saw Muffin with some dudes I used to mess around with. The bad news is that these guys are into dog fighting. I didn't know if I should be more afraid for Muffin or those other dogs!
The majority of Richmond's stray or stolen dogs end up in the hands of dog fighting kennels. Most of them are used as simple bait in fight training. But there are exceptions, such as my incorrigible Muffin. Take one look at him and you know he was born to fight, because he bites people who look at him. It does seem like fun, but that sport is too dirty for my baby!
I rolled down there last night in the Caliber to bring him back home. Kinda sketchy, I know, but these guys know better than to fuck with me. I sent one of their cousins to the hospital a while back. About a month after it happened he told people that he still has nightmares of me coming up behind him in the dark with that broken bottle. What a punk!
So I get to the spot, which is out on a dirt road, and there's already cars all over the place. Getting to the pit was no problem because they had that same cousin in charge of "security". I got back there just in time to collect Muffin before his next fight. A few people tried to say something until I turned my head and shot them a look. Then shit got real quiet, except for one nervous sounding fart.
I led Muffin back out front and put him in the car. I scolded him for running away and getting into this mess. He just huffed and laid down in the back seat. I felt so lucky to have him back, and I figured since I was already there I might as well ride the streak and place a bet on the next fight. This was a wise notion, because I won $50! Muffin's getting some new booties!
The majority of Richmond's stray or stolen dogs end up in the hands of dog fighting kennels. Most of them are used as simple bait in fight training. But there are exceptions, such as my incorrigible Muffin. Take one look at him and you know he was born to fight, because he bites people who look at him. It does seem like fun, but that sport is too dirty for my baby!
I rolled down there last night in the Caliber to bring him back home. Kinda sketchy, I know, but these guys know better than to fuck with me. I sent one of their cousins to the hospital a while back. About a month after it happened he told people that he still has nightmares of me coming up behind him in the dark with that broken bottle. What a punk!
So I get to the spot, which is out on a dirt road, and there's already cars all over the place. Getting to the pit was no problem because they had that same cousin in charge of "security". I got back there just in time to collect Muffin before his next fight. A few people tried to say something until I turned my head and shot them a look. Then shit got real quiet, except for one nervous sounding fart.
I led Muffin back out front and put him in the car. I scolded him for running away and getting into this mess. He just huffed and laid down in the back seat. I felt so lucky to have him back, and I figured since I was already there I might as well ride the streak and place a bet on the next fight. This was a wise notion, because I won $50! Muffin's getting some new booties!
Wednesday, January 27
My babies hongry!
I came home last night around 11:30pm, drunk as a skunk, to discover that my damn kids were still up and running around the house. They said they hadn't had any dinner, and they'd gotten into my case of Red Bulls from Costco and made a big mess of it. The babysitter wasn't even there. He'd left a note about needing to bail his girlfriend out of jail.
My comfy bed was calling to me, but I knew my kids needed some food in their stomachs or they'd never get to sleep and they'd be impossible to wake up in the morning. I also had a pretty good case of the beer munchies. The only thing open was the Wendy's drive-thru, so I drove us over real quick and pulled up to the speaker. The lady came on and I ordered myself a combo.
Of course my kids were so hopped up on caffeine that they couldn't think straight and didn't know what they wanted. I heard one of them say, "Happy Meal!" and I said, "No baby, this is Wendy's, they got a kids meal...". A truck pulled up behind us in the line. I don't think he had his high-beams on, but his headlights were still shooting right through the back window of our car, which I can't stand.
I continued to try to get an order out of my kids. "Jailen, you want some apple slices? How 'bout some chicken nuggets baby? Do y'all think Orenthal would like a Jr Bacon?" (I'd left the baby at home 'cause his car seat is a pain in the ass). I looked back and three more cars were lined up. I decided to just order whatever, and of course the kids started to bitch and cry but by that point I didn't care.
I drove up to the window to pay, and unfortunately I'd forgotten to bring the purse that I keep Phil's credit cards in. All I had was my back-up card which has a bad strip, so the lady had to run it several times before manually typing it in. Then she handed me our dranks and a bag.
She said, "I'm still working on getting your Double with pickles and three Frosties, so please pull ahead to the door up on your left and we'll get those right out to you." I said "Naw.". For a minute she just stared at me while I sat there. "Ma'am, please pull ahead so we can keep the line moving". I replied, "No, that's okay, just do your best".
The cashier sighed and slammed the window shut. She came back three minutes later and handed us our stuff. Then she shut the door again and stared at me while I inventoried our bags to make sure we got everything. Well I'm sorry, but I've been burned before by these late-night losers.
Just then the guy from the truck behind us got out and came up to the window between my car and the drive-thru window. He banged on the window and yelled something at the cashier. I wasn't sure how to let this guy know how rude that was so I decided to just drive off while he had his ass pressed up against my car. I heard him swear as I took off, and me and the kids had a good laugh.
I pulled around and parked behind a large van near the entrance where I could watch the guy leave without him seeing me. The kids were whining for their food but I told them to wait because nobody's allowed to eat in my car but me! The guy pulled around and we followed him all the way down to the highway ramp. That's when I speed-dialed the police and reported him as a drunk driver. It took us another ten minutes to drive home from there, and by then the kids were fast asleep in the back seat. Screw it, more nuggets for me!
_
My comfy bed was calling to me, but I knew my kids needed some food in their stomachs or they'd never get to sleep and they'd be impossible to wake up in the morning. I also had a pretty good case of the beer munchies. The only thing open was the Wendy's drive-thru, so I drove us over real quick and pulled up to the speaker. The lady came on and I ordered myself a combo.
Of course my kids were so hopped up on caffeine that they couldn't think straight and didn't know what they wanted. I heard one of them say, "Happy Meal!" and I said, "No baby, this is Wendy's, they got a kids meal...". A truck pulled up behind us in the line. I don't think he had his high-beams on, but his headlights were still shooting right through the back window of our car, which I can't stand.
I continued to try to get an order out of my kids. "Jailen, you want some apple slices? How 'bout some chicken nuggets baby? Do y'all think Orenthal would like a Jr Bacon?" (I'd left the baby at home 'cause his car seat is a pain in the ass). I looked back and three more cars were lined up. I decided to just order whatever, and of course the kids started to bitch and cry but by that point I didn't care.
I drove up to the window to pay, and unfortunately I'd forgotten to bring the purse that I keep Phil's credit cards in. All I had was my back-up card which has a bad strip, so the lady had to run it several times before manually typing it in. Then she handed me our dranks and a bag.
She said, "I'm still working on getting your Double with pickles and three Frosties, so please pull ahead to the door up on your left and we'll get those right out to you." I said "Naw.". For a minute she just stared at me while I sat there. "Ma'am, please pull ahead so we can keep the line moving". I replied, "No, that's okay, just do your best".
The cashier sighed and slammed the window shut. She came back three minutes later and handed us our stuff. Then she shut the door again and stared at me while I inventoried our bags to make sure we got everything. Well I'm sorry, but I've been burned before by these late-night losers.
Just then the guy from the truck behind us got out and came up to the window between my car and the drive-thru window. He banged on the window and yelled something at the cashier. I wasn't sure how to let this guy know how rude that was so I decided to just drive off while he had his ass pressed up against my car. I heard him swear as I took off, and me and the kids had a good laugh.
I pulled around and parked behind a large van near the entrance where I could watch the guy leave without him seeing me. The kids were whining for their food but I told them to wait because nobody's allowed to eat in my car but me! The guy pulled around and we followed him all the way down to the highway ramp. That's when I speed-dialed the police and reported him as a drunk driver. It took us another ten minutes to drive home from there, and by then the kids were fast asleep in the back seat. Screw it, more nuggets for me!
_
Thursday, January 21
Muffin gone wild!
Poor Muffin! He doesn't get out much, and doesn't get much exercise. I also think that spending all his time alone in our tiny backyard (behind a 7-foot privacy fence) has driven him a little bit crazy! Honestly, he hasn't been looking right lately:
So a few days ago, on an unseasonably warm morning, I loaded him into the car and drove down to Richmond's beautiful "Fan District", because it's such a lovely place to take a stroll. It felt really good, with Muffin trotting along merrily while I power walked in my cute shorty shorts and Winnie the Pooh hoodie.
There are only a few businesses peppered throughout this neighborhood, including a small real estate office. As we strolled by it Muffin came to a dead stop and began motioning towards the office door. That stubborn dog wouldn't let me pull him another inch! I walked back to try to drag him out of his stance, but he growled real low and wouldn't budge.
He started scratching at the base of the door and groaning, so I decided to just let him in to find out what he wanted so bad. As soon as the door was breached Muffin shoved his way through, dragging me behind. He was sniffing all over the floor like a maniac! A few agents were sitting inside at their dark wood desk, probably wondering what the hell we were doing.
They found out soon enough, as he crouched down on their beautiful hand-woven wool rug and took a massive liquid shit. He then took two dainty steps, kicked his hind legs a few times towards the mess, and walked back outside. All I could say was, "Sorry, he's been sick!" as we both high-tailed it out of there. Muffin and I ran down the side alley and up a few blocks to avoid further scrutiny.
Now that Muffin had taken care of business he became more difficult to walk. He was yanking me all over the place, but I held my arm tight and pretended like we were still just out for a leisurely walk. We passed a bench by a bus stop and there was a nice looking old black gentleman sitting there. He stared at Muffin like it was the devil or something! He didn't even notice my cute shorts!
As I passed I said, "Good Morning!" in a sing-song voice. He didn't say a word, he just kept staring. I didn't want him to think that there was anything to be afraid of so I walked Muffin closer to him and said, "What's the matter? Don't you know how to say good morning?!". After about ten seconds he finally looked up at me and mumbled, "OH, good morning, good morning..". I just shrugged and we went on our way.
As we headed down another cobblestone alley a small white cat darted out from under a fence around the end of the alley. Muffin couldn't resist! He yanked me so hard that the bathrobe belt I'd been using as a leash came loose from his neck! I followed him down the side street but it was too late. What sucks is that he wasn't even wearing his collar or tags! I hope he finds his way home soon because there's a big bag of dog food here that's gonna go to waste!
.
So a few days ago, on an unseasonably warm morning, I loaded him into the car and drove down to Richmond's beautiful "Fan District", because it's such a lovely place to take a stroll. It felt really good, with Muffin trotting along merrily while I power walked in my cute shorty shorts and Winnie the Pooh hoodie.
There are only a few businesses peppered throughout this neighborhood, including a small real estate office. As we strolled by it Muffin came to a dead stop and began motioning towards the office door. That stubborn dog wouldn't let me pull him another inch! I walked back to try to drag him out of his stance, but he growled real low and wouldn't budge.
He started scratching at the base of the door and groaning, so I decided to just let him in to find out what he wanted so bad. As soon as the door was breached Muffin shoved his way through, dragging me behind. He was sniffing all over the floor like a maniac! A few agents were sitting inside at their dark wood desk, probably wondering what the hell we were doing.
They found out soon enough, as he crouched down on their beautiful hand-woven wool rug and took a massive liquid shit. He then took two dainty steps, kicked his hind legs a few times towards the mess, and walked back outside. All I could say was, "Sorry, he's been sick!" as we both high-tailed it out of there. Muffin and I ran down the side alley and up a few blocks to avoid further scrutiny.
Now that Muffin had taken care of business he became more difficult to walk. He was yanking me all over the place, but I held my arm tight and pretended like we were still just out for a leisurely walk. We passed a bench by a bus stop and there was a nice looking old black gentleman sitting there. He stared at Muffin like it was the devil or something! He didn't even notice my cute shorts!
As I passed I said, "Good Morning!" in a sing-song voice. He didn't say a word, he just kept staring. I didn't want him to think that there was anything to be afraid of so I walked Muffin closer to him and said, "What's the matter? Don't you know how to say good morning?!". After about ten seconds he finally looked up at me and mumbled, "OH, good morning, good morning..". I just shrugged and we went on our way.
As we headed down another cobblestone alley a small white cat darted out from under a fence around the end of the alley. Muffin couldn't resist! He yanked me so hard that the bathrobe belt I'd been using as a leash came loose from his neck! I followed him down the side street but it was too late. What sucks is that he wasn't even wearing his collar or tags! I hope he finds his way home soon because there's a big bag of dog food here that's gonna go to waste!
.
Thursday, January 14
More money saving tips!
I've gotten so many emails thanking me for my original list of money saving tips for single moms. Of course no thanks is necessary. We girls have got to stick together! Some of those who've contacted me have received a few bonus tips in response, and I'd now like to share those tips with the rest of you. If we all stay on track then we might just make it out of this Obama recession!
I'm a frugal drinker, as y'all know. So when I finish an expensive bottle of wine I don't just throw the bottle in the recycling bin. That's wasteful! Instead I break the neck of the bottle. Then I return it to the store and tell the clerk that it broke when I tried to open it. In most cases they'll give me a replacement bottle free of charge. You just have to remember to rotate which shops you go to, and make sure that they carry your brand.
Flowers are another easily returnable item. Phil is always buying them to keep himself out of the doghouse. After about a week I bring them back to the shop and demand some new healthy ones. I'll argue if necessary, but not for long. If the clerks continue to refuse I'll simply dump the dead stems and dirty flower water on their feet and leave. Their manager will hook me up later when I explain how their employee slapped the vase out of my hands.
Another big waste of our good money is birth control, like that silly NuvoRing. It doesn't really matter what you use as long as it's sure to kill sperm. Usually a dusting of cocaine on the gentleman's penis will do. But lacking that, I go with a scrunchy soaked in bug spray. Talk about a warming sensation! Maybe your fool boyfriend will complain that his dick doesn't work for a week after. Tell him that you're just that good!
Of course the cost of these luxury items aren't your only concern. There are other necessary expenses, like the large sums you're forced to spend on your loved ones. Who needs it? I've recently discovered that simply denying to further support my mother has caused her to be transferred from that crappy nursing home to an even crappier state-run facility. Now my monthly "Mom" costs have dropped down to $0. Why doesn't everyone do this?
I took this little maneuver a step further. I pretended that my kids live with my mother instead of me. Once the school calculated her (lack of) income they decided to give my kids free lunch cards. Some of the teachers have even started buying my kids clothes and winter jackets. The savings are so significant, sometimes I'd swear I was made of money!
Speaking of schools, I've gotta mention school fundraisers. They're just a great way collect quick cash after normal business hours. The catalogs and other materials are easy to get your hands on, and your kids don't need to know any better. It's all about "charity", so don't sweat it. None of your neighbors are actually expecting your kid to come through with that $30 can of spicy peanuts, or that $12 roll of Christmas wrapping paper. If they come around asking just convince them that your kid messed up the order because he has mild autism or something.
I'm a frugal drinker, as y'all know. So when I finish an expensive bottle of wine I don't just throw the bottle in the recycling bin. That's wasteful! Instead I break the neck of the bottle. Then I return it to the store and tell the clerk that it broke when I tried to open it. In most cases they'll give me a replacement bottle free of charge. You just have to remember to rotate which shops you go to, and make sure that they carry your brand.
Flowers are another easily returnable item. Phil is always buying them to keep himself out of the doghouse. After about a week I bring them back to the shop and demand some new healthy ones. I'll argue if necessary, but not for long. If the clerks continue to refuse I'll simply dump the dead stems and dirty flower water on their feet and leave. Their manager will hook me up later when I explain how their employee slapped the vase out of my hands.
Another big waste of our good money is birth control, like that silly NuvoRing. It doesn't really matter what you use as long as it's sure to kill sperm. Usually a dusting of cocaine on the gentleman's penis will do. But lacking that, I go with a scrunchy soaked in bug spray. Talk about a warming sensation! Maybe your fool boyfriend will complain that his dick doesn't work for a week after. Tell him that you're just that good!
Of course the cost of these luxury items aren't your only concern. There are other necessary expenses, like the large sums you're forced to spend on your loved ones. Who needs it? I've recently discovered that simply denying to further support my mother has caused her to be transferred from that crappy nursing home to an even crappier state-run facility. Now my monthly "Mom" costs have dropped down to $0. Why doesn't everyone do this?
I took this little maneuver a step further. I pretended that my kids live with my mother instead of me. Once the school calculated her (lack of) income they decided to give my kids free lunch cards. Some of the teachers have even started buying my kids clothes and winter jackets. The savings are so significant, sometimes I'd swear I was made of money!
Speaking of schools, I've gotta mention school fundraisers. They're just a great way collect quick cash after normal business hours. The catalogs and other materials are easy to get your hands on, and your kids don't need to know any better. It's all about "charity", so don't sweat it. None of your neighbors are actually expecting your kid to come through with that $30 can of spicy peanuts, or that $12 roll of Christmas wrapping paper. If they come around asking just convince them that your kid messed up the order because he has mild autism or something.
Thursday, January 7
Mistress of the hunt!
I've always loved the wilderness! Of course the beach is still my favorite vacation spot, but I also try to set aside a week each year to spend in beautiful Western Colorado. The cool dry air, fresh clean waters, and uneven population ratio of women to men suit me just fine!
My last trip to Colorado started with the usual day of travel that I always dread. To make matters worse, I worked a half day before the flight. It happened to be the day of our office chili cook off contest! I had to sneak into the conference room before I left to steal a few large gulps of all six chili varieties. I don't think the last two had a chance to really cook all the meat! My stomach was churning!
As you can imagine, my fellow first class passengers didn't appreciate my sickening chili farty pants none too much. My body is a finely tuned instrument, but on that afternoon I was playing a symphony of sour notes! But don't get me wrong; I didn't waste good money on First Class tickets! I booked Phil and I in separate seats, then I asked the clerk at our terminal to find us two seats that were together, and he gave us last two seats up front. Thanks again, Terry!
After landing in Albuquerque (and driving three more hours by car) we made it to our rental cabin. But this was no cabin like I've ever seen! This was a big beautiful wood house in a neighborhood of nice homes, nestled in a nice woodsy area! What could be more perfect? I was so excited that I ran straight into the backyard to set up a nice deer blind!
A Deer Blind is basically a couple big pieces of plywood with a small hole cut out of the middle for your gun to go through. Then the whole thing is painted like branches and leaves. It's an ideal set-up for poaching deer in a neighborhood like this, where the animals have never been hunted. Talk about easy meat! With my butchering skills and Phil's taxidermy abilities, we actually made some money on that vacation!
Fishing is another favorite pastime of mine, and Colorado's rainbow trout is as plentiful as it's Fat Tire beer is overrated. Experts like me will tell you to catch your fish with care, and release them back for the benefit of future generations. Then we show up later to catch and keep those same big healthy fish using large nets and minimal effort! They don't call us "the experts" for nothing!
After a week of these activities I always feel relaxed, but also a little worn out. That's why Phil and I spent our last day at the nearby hot springs resort. After drinking some local beer (which seems stronger at those higher altitudes!) we relaxed and fingered each other in almost every hot tub on the premises. I don't know what the secret is, but those healing mineral hot spring waters do wonders for my syphilitic sores, and somehow shrink my hemorrhoids down a little!
_
My last trip to Colorado started with the usual day of travel that I always dread. To make matters worse, I worked a half day before the flight. It happened to be the day of our office chili cook off contest! I had to sneak into the conference room before I left to steal a few large gulps of all six chili varieties. I don't think the last two had a chance to really cook all the meat! My stomach was churning!
As you can imagine, my fellow first class passengers didn't appreciate my sickening chili farty pants none too much. My body is a finely tuned instrument, but on that afternoon I was playing a symphony of sour notes! But don't get me wrong; I didn't waste good money on First Class tickets! I booked Phil and I in separate seats, then I asked the clerk at our terminal to find us two seats that were together, and he gave us last two seats up front. Thanks again, Terry!
After landing in Albuquerque (and driving three more hours by car) we made it to our rental cabin. But this was no cabin like I've ever seen! This was a big beautiful wood house in a neighborhood of nice homes, nestled in a nice woodsy area! What could be more perfect? I was so excited that I ran straight into the backyard to set up a nice deer blind!
A Deer Blind is basically a couple big pieces of plywood with a small hole cut out of the middle for your gun to go through. Then the whole thing is painted like branches and leaves. It's an ideal set-up for poaching deer in a neighborhood like this, where the animals have never been hunted. Talk about easy meat! With my butchering skills and Phil's taxidermy abilities, we actually made some money on that vacation!
Fishing is another favorite pastime of mine, and Colorado's rainbow trout is as plentiful as it's Fat Tire beer is overrated. Experts like me will tell you to catch your fish with care, and release them back for the benefit of future generations. Then we show up later to catch and keep those same big healthy fish using large nets and minimal effort! They don't call us "the experts" for nothing!
After a week of these activities I always feel relaxed, but also a little worn out. That's why Phil and I spent our last day at the nearby hot springs resort. After drinking some local beer (which seems stronger at those higher altitudes!) we relaxed and fingered each other in almost every hot tub on the premises. I don't know what the secret is, but those healing mineral hot spring waters do wonders for my syphilitic sores, and somehow shrink my hemorrhoids down a little!
_
Friday, December 18
Runnin' thangs!
My office's director and his district manager have both been fired from our company following a very slow year. While the bigwigs at corporate headquarters decide where to take things next, they've left everything in our branch office up to me. Some folks in my position might go with a "business as usual" approach. Fortunately I'm ambitious enough to realize that this is an opportunity to prove myself and get promoted!
Profits are down, sales are down, and the workload is slow. Our prices are competitive, so I'm not sure what's wrong. What I'd like to do is boost our sales. Unfortunately I know nothing about sales! So I've decided to cut operating costs, which will force me to squeeze maximum productivity out of the few employees who remain. But that's not as easy as it sounds! In fact, it's become a rather depressing game of "divide and conquer"!
I began by drawing out a big chart. I wrote down everyone's name and drew lines connecting who was friends with who, who takes lunches together, and who chats around the coffeemaker. I put a red mark by anyone who I think may have been part of last year's failed unionizing effort. I also made notes on the chart about popularity, niceness, and physical attractiveness.
Then I started managing people out of their jobs. I wrote folks up for every single 30-second tardy. I documented every website they visited that wasn't work-related. I monitored their calls, and rummaged through their desks. I even sent a few people in for "random" drug tests. After only three weeks I'd fired one person out of every identified friendship in the building.
The best part was how I avoided an ugly, newsworthy mass-layoff situation. Instead I spread all the firings out over a month of Fridays. This not only helped our company avoid embarrassment, (as well as expensive severence packages) but it also helped develop a sense of self-preservation and paranoia among my remaining staff. Of course everyone is depressed and worried, and I'm the only one who knows that the firing spree is over!
As of this week I've implemented an office-wide training program focused on the importance of showing company spirit! You should see their faces in these sessions, the way I bring them together by forcing them to smile. No, I'm not just making a special effort to deliberately insult their intelligence! And to prove it I'm giving away free company logo sweatshirts to those who truly embody our company values and attitude! Go team!
_
Profits are down, sales are down, and the workload is slow. Our prices are competitive, so I'm not sure what's wrong. What I'd like to do is boost our sales. Unfortunately I know nothing about sales! So I've decided to cut operating costs, which will force me to squeeze maximum productivity out of the few employees who remain. But that's not as easy as it sounds! In fact, it's become a rather depressing game of "divide and conquer"!
I began by drawing out a big chart. I wrote down everyone's name and drew lines connecting who was friends with who, who takes lunches together, and who chats around the coffeemaker. I put a red mark by anyone who I think may have been part of last year's failed unionizing effort. I also made notes on the chart about popularity, niceness, and physical attractiveness.
Then I started managing people out of their jobs. I wrote folks up for every single 30-second tardy. I documented every website they visited that wasn't work-related. I monitored their calls, and rummaged through their desks. I even sent a few people in for "random" drug tests. After only three weeks I'd fired one person out of every identified friendship in the building.
The best part was how I avoided an ugly, newsworthy mass-layoff situation. Instead I spread all the firings out over a month of Fridays. This not only helped our company avoid embarrassment, (as well as expensive severence packages) but it also helped develop a sense of self-preservation and paranoia among my remaining staff. Of course everyone is depressed and worried, and I'm the only one who knows that the firing spree is over!
As of this week I've implemented an office-wide training program focused on the importance of showing company spirit! You should see their faces in these sessions, the way I bring them together by forcing them to smile. No, I'm not just making a special effort to deliberately insult their intelligence! And to prove it I'm giving away free company logo sweatshirts to those who truly embody our company values and attitude! Go team!
_
Saturday, December 5
Taking back Christmas!
I'm tired of Christmas being one big hump and dump, so this year we're doing it differently. I'm gonna to teach my kids the true meaning of Christmas, even if it means a lot of tears and resentment. It's more important to me that they grow up to be decent people. That's the price of good parenting, and I really don't care how much they hate me for it!
For starters, I'm volunteering their asses to work after school at a local nursing home. I know an orderly there who'll pay me $5 per hour cash for the three of them to sing and read to old people. Their duties will also include emptying day-old bed pans and removing the occasional catheter. I'll receive an additional dollar for every hour they spend fishing recyclables out of the dumpster.
As for gifts this year, they might be surprised to receive something more practical than past years. Each of my kids will get either a shoe shining kit, a package of Dryel (home dry cleaning system), or a jar of jewelry cleaner. After they're done whining I'll explain how they can now earn their $2 per week allowance by carefully maintaining my wardrobe.
Now don't worry, because the kids aren't alone in this. My new husband Phil will be learning about the importance of family this year as he spends Christmas Day with my kids. I already told him that I'll be leaving after presents to "visit Mother", but I'm actually going to meet with my secret boyfriend Maurice, who's buying me an 8-ball of coke! That's what I call a "white" Christmas!
I truly feel bad for all you suckers who are spending yet another year in the stupid Christmas rat race. To make things a little easier for you, I have compiled my handy 4-part holiday guide which will help you get most out of the holiday season:
Spreading your holiday cheer!
Christmas shopping made easy!
Super secret Santa!
If these posts don't get you in the spirit then you really are hopeless.
For starters, I'm volunteering their asses to work after school at a local nursing home. I know an orderly there who'll pay me $5 per hour cash for the three of them to sing and read to old people. Their duties will also include emptying day-old bed pans and removing the occasional catheter. I'll receive an additional dollar for every hour they spend fishing recyclables out of the dumpster.
As for gifts this year, they might be surprised to receive something more practical than past years. Each of my kids will get either a shoe shining kit, a package of Dryel (home dry cleaning system), or a jar of jewelry cleaner. After they're done whining I'll explain how they can now earn their $2 per week allowance by carefully maintaining my wardrobe.
Now don't worry, because the kids aren't alone in this. My new husband Phil will be learning about the importance of family this year as he spends Christmas Day with my kids. I already told him that I'll be leaving after presents to "visit Mother", but I'm actually going to meet with my secret boyfriend Maurice, who's buying me an 8-ball of coke! That's what I call a "white" Christmas!
I truly feel bad for all you suckers who are spending yet another year in the stupid Christmas rat race. To make things a little easier for you, I have compiled my handy 4-part holiday guide which will help you get most out of the holiday season:
Spreading your holiday cheer!
Christmas shopping made easy!
Super secret Santa!
If these posts don't get you in the spirit then you really are hopeless.
Thursday, November 12
Ain't nobody happy!
We have a saying in my house: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!". You won't catch my kids acting the fool around me! I've got those bitches walking on eggshells in this house. Don't get me wrong though...I'm not one of those sadistic moms! I find it's best to take a more passive, creative approach to discipline!
Like when Brandon threw a tantrum a couple months ago because I forgot to send in the money for his class field trip. I told him, "Tough shit!", but he kept on whining. I told him to stop or he'd be sorry. He yelled, "I don't care! you're stupid!" and ran off to slam his bedroom door a few times before locking himself in. I let him stew in there all night.
The next day he was stuck sitting in the school library while the rest of his class when on their trip. Meanwhile I was at home, selling his bike to the overweight drop-out down the street who always bullies Brandon and his friends. Brandon will have to think about what he did every time that kid rides by on his old bike! That's re-enforcement!
Little Jailen is harder to get through to sometimes because she's only 3. Plus she's fairly well behaved, so it's hard to teach her lessons. That's why I use double-reverse psychology. I'll say something like, "Don't eat the candy I have in my underwear drawer!". She replies, "What candy?", and I'm like, "Don't worry about it!".
Later that day, when I catch her in the act, I yell for a minute, but then let her know that I forgive her for disobeying me and going in my room without permission. Of course the next morning she's asking me where all her Dora the Explorer shirts and other stuff have gone to. I know they're all stuffed in the trash, but I just say, "I dunno, maybe God is punishing you!".
My husband Phil isn't safe from my unhappy ass either! Last night I came home and found that he had forgotten to pick up some pre-mixed cocktails for me from the liquor store. I didn't say a word about it. I just took his Jagermeister bottle from the freezer and sipped off it all night while giving him the stink eye. He never even asked me what was wrong!
But I'm sure he remembered the next morning when he stepped his socks into that puddle of water I left around his work boots. And just to be sure we were clear I also dumped vinegar into his Bubba Jug of sweet tea. If he doesn't mention anything by tonight I'm going to wait until he falls asleep and wake him back up with a nice hard flick to the nuts.
.
Like when Brandon threw a tantrum a couple months ago because I forgot to send in the money for his class field trip. I told him, "Tough shit!", but he kept on whining. I told him to stop or he'd be sorry. He yelled, "I don't care! you're stupid!" and ran off to slam his bedroom door a few times before locking himself in. I let him stew in there all night.
The next day he was stuck sitting in the school library while the rest of his class when on their trip. Meanwhile I was at home, selling his bike to the overweight drop-out down the street who always bullies Brandon and his friends. Brandon will have to think about what he did every time that kid rides by on his old bike! That's re-enforcement!
Little Jailen is harder to get through to sometimes because she's only 3. Plus she's fairly well behaved, so it's hard to teach her lessons. That's why I use double-reverse psychology. I'll say something like, "Don't eat the candy I have in my underwear drawer!". She replies, "What candy?", and I'm like, "Don't worry about it!".
Later that day, when I catch her in the act, I yell for a minute, but then let her know that I forgive her for disobeying me and going in my room without permission. Of course the next morning she's asking me where all her Dora the Explorer shirts and other stuff have gone to. I know they're all stuffed in the trash, but I just say, "I dunno, maybe God is punishing you!".
My husband Phil isn't safe from my unhappy ass either! Last night I came home and found that he had forgotten to pick up some pre-mixed cocktails for me from the liquor store. I didn't say a word about it. I just took his Jagermeister bottle from the freezer and sipped off it all night while giving him the stink eye. He never even asked me what was wrong!
But I'm sure he remembered the next morning when he stepped his socks into that puddle of water I left around his work boots. And just to be sure we were clear I also dumped vinegar into his Bubba Jug of sweet tea. If he doesn't mention anything by tonight I'm going to wait until he falls asleep and wake him back up with a nice hard flick to the nuts.
.
Thursday, November 5
I'm a Vegetarian! (but I eat meat)
I've been trying to get back in my daughter's good graces lately. She's made it clear that I lost some of her trust during her brief adventure as a runaway. It's been a real uphill battle! Her new thing is that she's decided to become a vegetarian. After reading some of her magazines on the subject, I think this is a hobby I can definitely sink my teeth into!
Of course it's never as easy as just avoiding meat. All that leaves you with is crappy food! So Darla joined a new local vegetarian cooking club. Since I've shown so much enthusiasm for her new found passion, she invited me to be a part of their annual "Harvest Time" potluck. I was so excited that I promised Darla that I'd make a vegetarian version of my grandmother's old world lasagna recipe.
The potluck was a fun idea, and everyone seemed to enjoy my dish. But I wasn't too thrilled with theirs! I don't understand why vegetarians always insist on using so much tofu. And the lentils! And cabbage rolls! Needless to say, I became an instant gas bag. I politely went into the hallway and ripped a long, dirty fart. Suddenly a few young children of the group members ran out of the room and into the center of my fart cloud!
Nearly everyone had helped themselves to a slab of my delicious lasagna. I knew it'd be a hit, but I never expected people to ask for the recipe. Sorry, girls, but it's a family secret! Unfortunately I never did make it to the store before preparing my dish, so I had to substitute the mock ground beef I had planned to use with an old frostbitten package of ground veal.
Well how was I to know that vegetarian's bodies simply "forget" how to digest meat?! The next day they were all chatting on Facebook about how sick they all got. Luckily nobody figured out which dish caused it! Honestly, I haven't had such a laugh since that Summer I worked for that barbecue catering company, when I "accidentally" fed pork hot dogs at a Muslim family's reunion picnic!
.
Of course it's never as easy as just avoiding meat. All that leaves you with is crappy food! So Darla joined a new local vegetarian cooking club. Since I've shown so much enthusiasm for her new found passion, she invited me to be a part of their annual "Harvest Time" potluck. I was so excited that I promised Darla that I'd make a vegetarian version of my grandmother's old world lasagna recipe.
The potluck was a fun idea, and everyone seemed to enjoy my dish. But I wasn't too thrilled with theirs! I don't understand why vegetarians always insist on using so much tofu. And the lentils! And cabbage rolls! Needless to say, I became an instant gas bag. I politely went into the hallway and ripped a long, dirty fart. Suddenly a few young children of the group members ran out of the room and into the center of my fart cloud!
Nearly everyone had helped themselves to a slab of my delicious lasagna. I knew it'd be a hit, but I never expected people to ask for the recipe. Sorry, girls, but it's a family secret! Unfortunately I never did make it to the store before preparing my dish, so I had to substitute the mock ground beef I had planned to use with an old frostbitten package of ground veal.
Well how was I to know that vegetarian's bodies simply "forget" how to digest meat?! The next day they were all chatting on Facebook about how sick they all got. Luckily nobody figured out which dish caused it! Honestly, I haven't had such a laugh since that Summer I worked for that barbecue catering company, when I "accidentally" fed pork hot dogs at a Muslim family's reunion picnic!
.
Wednesday, October 21
I ain't got all day!
Earlier this week I went to the cupboard for some Beef-a-roni, but apparently the kids had already eaten the last can. I really had my heart set on it! I was so angry that I yelled "motherfucker!", stomped out of the kitchen, and kicked the living room phone jack right off the wall. It's one of those things we all do impulsively, and regret immediately. Now my foot was hurt, and I needed this damn phone jack fixed!
I grabbed my cell phone and called the phone company. After going through a shit ton of really annoying robotic menus I was finally put in the queue to wait for a representative. I was still kind of mad about the whole thing to be honest. I decided it would be best to lie and say that the phone just went dead. She told me that I had the "protection plan" on my account, so the work would probably be covered.
The technician's visit was scheduled for the next day with an 8am to 12pm window. That meant I had to take off work that morning, but still, a 4-hour window isn't too bad. Since I had the morning off I decided to hit up the Bob Evans for some biscuits and corned beef hash. I returned home around 9:15 and found a note on the door. It stated that I had missed their tech at 8:15 a.m., which means he probably got there right at 8. Ridiculous!
That's when Phil came home because he'd forgotten to take his lunch that morning. He was needed at the job site, but I told him that first he needed to call the phone company and tell them that their tech left and that I had been waiting since 7am. While talking to the representative, he didn't sound all that convincing. So I yelled, "Tell them that I saw the truck driving off!". This went on for a few more minutes until I got fed up and took the phone from him.
I bitched at the rep for a few minutes, and I claimed that the tech never knocked. The rep said, "Maybe you didn't hear him, or maybe he didn't see the doorbell.". I yelled, "I don't have a doorbell, smart ass!". Then the rep put me on hold. He came back a few minutes later to tell me that he had spoken with the supervisor and that my technician would add me on as his last job of the day.
Now I had an afternoon to kill, so I drove to O'Charley's and drank a bunch of beers. I got home by around 4:45pm, and the tech was just pulling up. I said, "It's about time!". He said, "For your information I was here at 8:15 this morning for your appointment. Now I'll be stuck here when I should be driving my son to his basketball game." I told him that I don't care about all that and brought him inside.
He inspected the damage and advised me that there would be a charge to fix it, because accidental damage wasn't covered under the plan. I got all up in his face, poking him in his chest and yelling about how I refused to pay and how ridiculous this whole thing was. He quietly walked out, got in his van, and began to drive off. I ran out after him, and threw the broken phone jack at the back of his van. It missed and landed in the street. This whole experience just goes to show that good customer service is dead!
I grabbed my cell phone and called the phone company. After going through a shit ton of really annoying robotic menus I was finally put in the queue to wait for a representative. I was still kind of mad about the whole thing to be honest. I decided it would be best to lie and say that the phone just went dead. She told me that I had the "protection plan" on my account, so the work would probably be covered.
The technician's visit was scheduled for the next day with an 8am to 12pm window. That meant I had to take off work that morning, but still, a 4-hour window isn't too bad. Since I had the morning off I decided to hit up the Bob Evans for some biscuits and corned beef hash. I returned home around 9:15 and found a note on the door. It stated that I had missed their tech at 8:15 a.m., which means he probably got there right at 8. Ridiculous!
That's when Phil came home because he'd forgotten to take his lunch that morning. He was needed at the job site, but I told him that first he needed to call the phone company and tell them that their tech left and that I had been waiting since 7am. While talking to the representative, he didn't sound all that convincing. So I yelled, "Tell them that I saw the truck driving off!". This went on for a few more minutes until I got fed up and took the phone from him.
I bitched at the rep for a few minutes, and I claimed that the tech never knocked. The rep said, "Maybe you didn't hear him, or maybe he didn't see the doorbell.". I yelled, "I don't have a doorbell, smart ass!". Then the rep put me on hold. He came back a few minutes later to tell me that he had spoken with the supervisor and that my technician would add me on as his last job of the day.
Now I had an afternoon to kill, so I drove to O'Charley's and drank a bunch of beers. I got home by around 4:45pm, and the tech was just pulling up. I said, "It's about time!". He said, "For your information I was here at 8:15 this morning for your appointment. Now I'll be stuck here when I should be driving my son to his basketball game." I told him that I don't care about all that and brought him inside.
He inspected the damage and advised me that there would be a charge to fix it, because accidental damage wasn't covered under the plan. I got all up in his face, poking him in his chest and yelling about how I refused to pay and how ridiculous this whole thing was. He quietly walked out, got in his van, and began to drive off. I ran out after him, and threw the broken phone jack at the back of his van. It missed and landed in the street. This whole experience just goes to show that good customer service is dead!
Friday, October 16
The prodigal daughter!
Darla has finally returned! She's been gone since April, when she ran away from home. Apparently she got her fill of the "real world", and has come crawling back for some sense of normalcy. Even though she's a woman of sixteen now, I was still a bit worried for her this whole time. After hearing about all that she's been through I can't say that I blame her!
Apparently she left town with some wolf enthusiast who drives a 12-year-old Geo Metro. He had promised to take her to Humbolt County, California, but the car broke down somewhere in the Mid-West. They went for help, but ended up getting stranded with a commune of paranoid, drug addicted young hippies. They let Darla's friend go, but made her stay because they thought her pregnancy was suspicious.
While living as their captive, Darla was still able to sneak to a phone every now and then. Unfortunately I was ignoring her voicemails. She was scared and feeling sick from all the stress and homemade soy milk they were giving her, but none of them would let her leave "the farm" to visit a doctor. She escaped five months later by hitch hiking from the edge of the woods.
She immediately checked into a Catholic hospital where they discovered that she had miscarried three months earlier. They were kind enough to remove the calcified remains of the fetus despite Darla's lack of medical insurance. She signed a release form, which is too bad, because the procedure has rendered her sterile. I told her she should still sue those bastards! She'd be set for life!
From there she had to take whatever charity should could find until she finally made it home. But now what's she going to do? She's a dropout with no marketable skills and no baby to claim for welfare, or to use to get checks from a man. I'm trying to convince her to be practical about this, but she's reluctant to take my advice. All I'm saying is that she'll make a decent regular income if she'd consider getting all her teeth pulled. Of course little miss "woman of the world" thinks I'm wrong about that too.
I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for all this. I mean, I didn't stop her from leaving, and I never tried to find her after she left. I also ignored ten letters and at least twenty voicemails over the course of the last several months. And on some of those messages she was downright begging me to help her get home. But I knew deep down that she wouldn't have learned her lesson until she found her way home alone, the hard way.
.
Apparently she left town with some wolf enthusiast who drives a 12-year-old Geo Metro. He had promised to take her to Humbolt County, California, but the car broke down somewhere in the Mid-West. They went for help, but ended up getting stranded with a commune of paranoid, drug addicted young hippies. They let Darla's friend go, but made her stay because they thought her pregnancy was suspicious.
While living as their captive, Darla was still able to sneak to a phone every now and then. Unfortunately I was ignoring her voicemails. She was scared and feeling sick from all the stress and homemade soy milk they were giving her, but none of them would let her leave "the farm" to visit a doctor. She escaped five months later by hitch hiking from the edge of the woods.
She immediately checked into a Catholic hospital where they discovered that she had miscarried three months earlier. They were kind enough to remove the calcified remains of the fetus despite Darla's lack of medical insurance. She signed a release form, which is too bad, because the procedure has rendered her sterile. I told her she should still sue those bastards! She'd be set for life!
From there she had to take whatever charity should could find until she finally made it home. But now what's she going to do? She's a dropout with no marketable skills and no baby to claim for welfare, or to use to get checks from a man. I'm trying to convince her to be practical about this, but she's reluctant to take my advice. All I'm saying is that she'll make a decent regular income if she'd consider getting all her teeth pulled. Of course little miss "woman of the world" thinks I'm wrong about that too.
I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for all this. I mean, I didn't stop her from leaving, and I never tried to find her after she left. I also ignored ten letters and at least twenty voicemails over the course of the last several months. And on some of those messages she was downright begging me to help her get home. But I knew deep down that she wouldn't have learned her lesson until she found her way home alone, the hard way.
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Friday, October 9
Embarrassing the kids!
My damn kids love to accuse me of embarrassing them. It's either my clothes, the way I discipline them in public, or the way I act in front of other parents at school events. I know I do it, but what can I do? Moms are never "cool". They weren't cool even when I was a kid! It's not that I don't try! But nothing I do ever good enough for them, so why do I bother? Pure optimism, I guess.
Back when Darla was just in second grade she started peeing the bed again. Morning after morning I had to begin my day by throwing her sheets in the wash. Enough was enough! I told her that if she wet the bed again I was going to hang her pee-soaked underwear outside for all the kids on the bus to see. The next day I did just that. Needless to say, she stopped wetting after that. I'm not sure if she ever forgave me, but it worked! So what's the harm?
My 9 year old, Brandon, is an even bigger bitch about the way I treat him in front of his friends. I tried to be cool at the JV football game by handing loose cigarettes out to all his little buddies, but apparently they all thought that was weird. Then I wore a slutty top to the "parents n' kids field day", but all the children laughed at my flopping breasts, which made Brandon cry. Then he got mad at the fair because I washed his face off by licking it clean. Well how else does he expect me to remove all that cotton candy residue?
Even little Jailen is getting in on this foolishness. She thinks her three-year-old ass is too big for that stroller. And yeah, she is. She's a little porker to be quite honest. But I don't strap her into the stroller for my benefit. It's so she doesn't run around and get lost! The last time I let her walk on her own she ended up following the wrong mother's ass for several minutes before looking up, realizing it wasn't me, and screaming at the poor women until security had to be called to locate me. Of course I was trying on clothes, so I couldn't even get up there for another fifteen minutes!
.
Back when Darla was just in second grade she started peeing the bed again. Morning after morning I had to begin my day by throwing her sheets in the wash. Enough was enough! I told her that if she wet the bed again I was going to hang her pee-soaked underwear outside for all the kids on the bus to see. The next day I did just that. Needless to say, she stopped wetting after that. I'm not sure if she ever forgave me, but it worked! So what's the harm?
My 9 year old, Brandon, is an even bigger bitch about the way I treat him in front of his friends. I tried to be cool at the JV football game by handing loose cigarettes out to all his little buddies, but apparently they all thought that was weird. Then I wore a slutty top to the "parents n' kids field day", but all the children laughed at my flopping breasts, which made Brandon cry. Then he got mad at the fair because I washed his face off by licking it clean. Well how else does he expect me to remove all that cotton candy residue?
Even little Jailen is getting in on this foolishness. She thinks her three-year-old ass is too big for that stroller. And yeah, she is. She's a little porker to be quite honest. But I don't strap her into the stroller for my benefit. It's so she doesn't run around and get lost! The last time I let her walk on her own she ended up following the wrong mother's ass for several minutes before looking up, realizing it wasn't me, and screaming at the poor women until security had to be called to locate me. Of course I was trying on clothes, so I couldn't even get up there for another fifteen minutes!
.
Tuesday, September 29
I want the gold, sucka!
All the girls at my work are into running and fitness. They've spent the entire Summer talking about all the marathons and triathlons they've participate in this year. I'm sick of hearing about it! That's why I decided to do a little talking of my own, by bringing in a shiny gold medal! I got online and found a little-known 5k race where I could be assured of an easy win.
The kids and I showed up a little late. The crowd was very small, maybe 250 people. We were told that the race was being held to raise funds for some really rare form of cancer. They only had one lady there who actually had the disease! She introduced herself and tried to sell us a raffle ticket for a chance to win a cute beaded anklet her daughter had made.
I started looking around at the competition. The only two I really had to worry about were this old guy who was really fit for his age, and some dude from Kenya. I pointed him out to Brandon, who nodded back at me nervously. Meanwhile, little Jailen was hiding under the raffle table trying to swipe that bracelet. I tell ya, the kid has taste!
The lady with cancer gave a small speech, and people started to get teary eyed. Then a preacher came up and lead everyone in a prayer. I took the opportunity to sneak off towards the park bathrooms. Then I quickly ducked down into the woods. Everybody said, "amen", and they lined up to start the race. I could see the first 200 yards of the race from my vantage point. They fired the starter pistol and the runners took off.
At about 120 yards I could see my little Brandon leading the crowd at full sprint! That's when he took his dive, causing our Kenyan friend to trip over him and slam into the ground. The fit old guy stopped to help them up, while the crowd ran past. The beauty of this maneuver was that these two would no longer have any idea who was in front of them in the race!
After about 18 minutes I could see the old man and the Kenyan making their way back through the entrance to the neighborhood. They were out in front again! I reached into my bag and opened up the water bottle full of liquid feces that I'd prepared. I knew I would need to appear as though I'd truly pushed myself to the limit! It was now or never!
I poured the whole thing down the back of my running shorts and took off like a maniac, straight out of the woods and towards the finish. My timing was perfect. As soon as I hit my stride I looked back and saw the guys making it around the turn, just as I was heading into the last curve. I could see the whole crowd going nuts as I hauled my out-of-shape ass all the way to the finish!
The feeling of winning was just incredible! Everyone was amazed at my time of 20 minutes 45 seconds. The lady with cancer was so moved by my win that she ran up and hugged me, despite my crap covered legs! The Kenyan and the old man looked confused and a little bit pissed. The walkers finally made it back, and the organizers called everyone in to announce the winners.
They awarded me a gold medal and a handy $200 Visa check card. I thanked them and stepped back into the crowd. Jailen and I grabbed our stuff and headed to the car. We found Brandon lying down in the back seat. He had 2 fully bruised legs and a size 12 footprint on the side of his head. That little man earned himself a nice big bowl of ice cream for being such a team player!
.
The kids and I showed up a little late. The crowd was very small, maybe 250 people. We were told that the race was being held to raise funds for some really rare form of cancer. They only had one lady there who actually had the disease! She introduced herself and tried to sell us a raffle ticket for a chance to win a cute beaded anklet her daughter had made.
I started looking around at the competition. The only two I really had to worry about were this old guy who was really fit for his age, and some dude from Kenya. I pointed him out to Brandon, who nodded back at me nervously. Meanwhile, little Jailen was hiding under the raffle table trying to swipe that bracelet. I tell ya, the kid has taste!
The lady with cancer gave a small speech, and people started to get teary eyed. Then a preacher came up and lead everyone in a prayer. I took the opportunity to sneak off towards the park bathrooms. Then I quickly ducked down into the woods. Everybody said, "amen", and they lined up to start the race. I could see the first 200 yards of the race from my vantage point. They fired the starter pistol and the runners took off.
At about 120 yards I could see my little Brandon leading the crowd at full sprint! That's when he took his dive, causing our Kenyan friend to trip over him and slam into the ground. The fit old guy stopped to help them up, while the crowd ran past. The beauty of this maneuver was that these two would no longer have any idea who was in front of them in the race!
After about 18 minutes I could see the old man and the Kenyan making their way back through the entrance to the neighborhood. They were out in front again! I reached into my bag and opened up the water bottle full of liquid feces that I'd prepared. I knew I would need to appear as though I'd truly pushed myself to the limit! It was now or never!
I poured the whole thing down the back of my running shorts and took off like a maniac, straight out of the woods and towards the finish. My timing was perfect. As soon as I hit my stride I looked back and saw the guys making it around the turn, just as I was heading into the last curve. I could see the whole crowd going nuts as I hauled my out-of-shape ass all the way to the finish!
The feeling of winning was just incredible! Everyone was amazed at my time of 20 minutes 45 seconds. The lady with cancer was so moved by my win that she ran up and hugged me, despite my crap covered legs! The Kenyan and the old man looked confused and a little bit pissed. The walkers finally made it back, and the organizers called everyone in to announce the winners.
They awarded me a gold medal and a handy $200 Visa check card. I thanked them and stepped back into the crowd. Jailen and I grabbed our stuff and headed to the car. We found Brandon lying down in the back seat. He had 2 fully bruised legs and a size 12 footprint on the side of his head. That little man earned himself a nice big bowl of ice cream for being such a team player!
.
Monday, September 21
Let me ride!
Phil has been making good money by contracting work out on some large-scale plumbing jobs. I guess that's why he thought it would be okay to trade in his 1986 Monte Carlo towards the purchase of a gently used Dodge Caliber (without even telling me!). The Caliber only has 12,000 miles on it, which made it way cheaper than a new one. This car is hot!
The problem is that maybe this car is a little too hot! For one thing, it makes my car look like shit. It's totally unfair that he should have a better car than mine. It also makes Phil a little too proud. And you know how those home wrecking bitches will try to get with him just because they like his car. It's not that I don't trust Phil. I just don't trust them bitches!
So last Tuesday I asked Phil if I could drive his Caliber to work. I could tell he didn't want me to, but he let me do it anyway. I guess he didn't get the hint that he was never going to drive this car again unless I'm riding in the passenger seat. If he's going to be driving to job sites all day then he can do it in my ex-husband's old piece of shit Mercury Cougar. It's already beat up, and it gets better gas mileage!
Phil realized by Thursday that I've taken his car as my own. He's been pouting like a child all weekend. I tried to tell him that he should go buy himself another car if he hates the Cougar so much, but I know he can't afford another car payment. Not on top of the payments for this house he bought me, and I'm sure he's still making payments on that ring.
Yes, I could probably afford to buy a new car for myself, but I told Phil before we got married that what's mine is MINE! One of the things I learned from my first marriage is that divorces can happen to anyone. No matter what happens, I will always be in a position to take proper care of me and my kids. Having this trustworthy new vehicle is just one more way that I can prepare for the worst.
_
The problem is that maybe this car is a little too hot! For one thing, it makes my car look like shit. It's totally unfair that he should have a better car than mine. It also makes Phil a little too proud. And you know how those home wrecking bitches will try to get with him just because they like his car. It's not that I don't trust Phil. I just don't trust them bitches!
So last Tuesday I asked Phil if I could drive his Caliber to work. I could tell he didn't want me to, but he let me do it anyway. I guess he didn't get the hint that he was never going to drive this car again unless I'm riding in the passenger seat. If he's going to be driving to job sites all day then he can do it in my ex-husband's old piece of shit Mercury Cougar. It's already beat up, and it gets better gas mileage!
Phil realized by Thursday that I've taken his car as my own. He's been pouting like a child all weekend. I tried to tell him that he should go buy himself another car if he hates the Cougar so much, but I know he can't afford another car payment. Not on top of the payments for this house he bought me, and I'm sure he's still making payments on that ring.
Yes, I could probably afford to buy a new car for myself, but I told Phil before we got married that what's mine is MINE! One of the things I learned from my first marriage is that divorces can happen to anyone. No matter what happens, I will always be in a position to take proper care of me and my kids. Having this trustworthy new vehicle is just one more way that I can prepare for the worst.
_
Tuesday, September 15
My big fat rummage sale!
I've been out posting signs all over the neighborhood for our yard sale this Saturday. There's stuff for all ages, including many one-of-a-kind items! Plus the kids will be selling refreshments. I don't want them messing up the kitchen making lemonade, so instead we're gonna open the cap on some 3-liters tonight and just sell flat soda as "orangeade". Yum!
Hopefully that fun activity will take their minds off the fact that I'm selling most of their toys. I decided last weekend that anything they didn't play with between Saturday and Sunday was going in the sale next week. They won't know it until they see it all set up on the tables. I'm also selling the stupid papasan chair they love so much, because I'm sick of cleaning our cat's shit out of the middle of the cushion.
Speaking of kids, there are other items in the sale that they probably won't miss. Like Jailen's old crib that lost a couple of the original screws and clips. For some reason that thing snaps shut like rat trap and collapses on top of itself as soon as you put more than 10 pounds of weight inside of it. There was a still a baby blanket trapped inside that I had to remove before I could reassemble the thing.
I've also got some stuff for the guys. Like my ex-husbands record albums, and his military stuff. I had told him that I threw all his things out, but no way! That shit's collectible! I'm also getting rid of my new husband's collection of novelty cologne bottles. He's got a motorcycle one, one shaped like a gun, and even one like a sexy lady! He loves those bottles...but I guess if he loves them so much then he shouldn't be going away to see a football game this weekend!
Last but not least, I'm selling all the crap that the nursing home sent over when my aunt died. I'm asking a very fair price on the grocery bag full of used catheters, and the raised toilet seat cushion (due to a few inches of exposed foam through a break in the seam). I've also got her high-end shower chair up for grabs. It only has a few dark stains on the seat, and one of the wheels keeps popping off. It's a nice chair, especially at this price. Nobody has to know that she died on it!
_
Hopefully that fun activity will take their minds off the fact that I'm selling most of their toys. I decided last weekend that anything they didn't play with between Saturday and Sunday was going in the sale next week. They won't know it until they see it all set up on the tables. I'm also selling the stupid papasan chair they love so much, because I'm sick of cleaning our cat's shit out of the middle of the cushion.
Speaking of kids, there are other items in the sale that they probably won't miss. Like Jailen's old crib that lost a couple of the original screws and clips. For some reason that thing snaps shut like rat trap and collapses on top of itself as soon as you put more than 10 pounds of weight inside of it. There was a still a baby blanket trapped inside that I had to remove before I could reassemble the thing.
I've also got some stuff for the guys. Like my ex-husbands record albums, and his military stuff. I had told him that I threw all his things out, but no way! That shit's collectible! I'm also getting rid of my new husband's collection of novelty cologne bottles. He's got a motorcycle one, one shaped like a gun, and even one like a sexy lady! He loves those bottles...but I guess if he loves them so much then he shouldn't be going away to see a football game this weekend!
Last but not least, I'm selling all the crap that the nursing home sent over when my aunt died. I'm asking a very fair price on the grocery bag full of used catheters, and the raised toilet seat cushion (due to a few inches of exposed foam through a break in the seam). I've also got her high-end shower chair up for grabs. It only has a few dark stains on the seat, and one of the wheels keeps popping off. It's a nice chair, especially at this price. Nobody has to know that she died on it!
_
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