I Don’t Even Know What To Title This One

July 2, 2009

I just found out some scary news about one of my favorite people on earth.  I can’t wrap my brain around it.  My friend Mel has a tumor in her brain.  WTF?  How is that fair?  How is that right?  How can this happen?  I have more questions than I have the ability to type. 

She’s my friend.  From the first moment we clicked.  We were riding the same slipstream.  She smart, and fun, and funny, and h0nest,  and brash, and vocal, and sweet,  and real.  She’s herself and I love her for it.  She’s smarter than the average bear.  She’s got dreams and goals and someone she loves.  She has plans.  She has a life!  

So what the hell is a tumor doing in her head?  There is nothing more frightening than being attacked by your own body.  It feels un-natural in the extreme.  It’s wrong on such a fundamental level that it’s hard to even accept, much less understand.

The surgery is soon.  Too soon.  Not soon enough.  My thoughts are scattered everywhere and I can’t seem to catch any of them. 

I read somewhere that there was a study done that proved that people who were in bad health, got well faster if they were prayed for.  They didn’t even need to know that it was happening.  It still worked.

So, do my friend Mel a solid, if you will.  Pray for her.  Start now.  Please?


Random Thoughts October 3, 2007

October 4, 2007

Life is perception.  How we perceive an event is our reality of it.  One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.  What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life.  Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives.  It counts.

Inaction is an action all by itself.  It indicates indifference on a massive scale. 

Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president?  This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion.  This can only mean one thing:  He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big!  So, let’s put her in the White House?????  Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address?  (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?)  Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge.  If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances.  It might save his life.  And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over.  You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one*  And you will not get away unscathed either.  Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU!  She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited.  That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes.  But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl.  Think about it guys.  Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be.  And we never forget a slight.  We certainly never forgive one.  Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House.  Sounds good, don’t it?

I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone?  I haven’t heard anyone ask them.  I haven’t heard any of them say.  I would love to hear the answer to those questions.  I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa.  I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest.  So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them. 

Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*

What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things.  example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”

Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?”  That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it?  We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all.  That’s because what they hear is not what we said.

Me-how was your day       translation:  What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?

No wonder the response is so vehement!  I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling! 

When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work.  He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it.  He was right.  I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition.  Either that, or take up drinking.  I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet.  I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying.  But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that.  On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me.  *sigh*  decisions, decisions


Random Thoughts 9/28/07

September 28, 2007

Don’t say yes if you mean no, then get all pissed off later.

If you have something to say, say it.

If you have nothing to say, say nothing.

If your significant other asks you a question, answer them as honestly as you can.  Do NOT expect them to read your mind.  That’s just stupid and unfair.  If they could read your mind, they would have already got the Pick 6 number and you’d be filthy rich and boppin the pool boy/girl.  Give them some information they can use.  Play fair.

Keep in mind that it is not being mean if you hang up on someone who has called YOU.  Especially if you don’t know them. 

When someone calls you and starts asking questions, your automatic response should NOT be to answer, but to start asking questions of your own. 

example:  Riiiiiiing.  Hello.  

Is Mr. Whoozit in? 

 No, may I take a message? 

Who am I speaking to?   

That’s not really your business.  Who am I speaking to? 

This is Mr. Soanso from Suchandsuch.  Do you have a number where Mr. Whoozit can be reached in an emergency? 

IS this an emergency?  If you’ll give me your number I’ll get in touch with Mr. Whoozit and give it to him and I’m sure if it’s an emergency he’ll be sure to get back in touch with you as soon as humanly possible. 

*SIGH* Nevermind, I’ll just try back later.  CLICK!!!! 

Seriously, it is NOT someone else’s place to be asking you questions on your phone and it is not rude, mean, or socially unacceptable to refuse to answer them. 

Listen to your instincts.  Human beings are still alive today because of them. 

Pay attention.  To Everything. 

Be careful what you say.  You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t unsay an unkind word or undo the hurt it causes.

Care.


Reunions

September 28, 2007

Our oldest daughter came home yesterday.  It’s been three years since I’ve laid eyes on her.  My heart has seen her twenty-four/seven but my eyes have hungered for her non-stop.  Going long periods of time between physically seeing her is normal.  She is a natural born gypsy.  She comes by that honestly. 

I never seem to be prepared for just how overwhelmingly happy I am to see her.  I kept poking her on the arm.  She kept looking at me.  Finally, the last time I did it she said, “Believe I’m really here yet?”  There seems to be a Birdie shaped hole in my being when she isn’t with me that immediately fills up when she comes home. 

It’s like that with all my family and to a lesser degree with my friends.  I’m like a puzzle.  I’m this huge picture.  I know what it is, I know what it looks like.  But I’m only really complete and the whole big picture when everyone is together.  I almost had it this Labor Day. 

Labor Day marked the one year anniversary since the house burned down.  All in all things have progressed fairly splendidly since then.  We moved into what seems to us to be the perfect house in which to finish raising the kids, finish growing old, hobble around awhile, become a burden to said kids, make them change our diapers just like we did theirs, and eventually be remanded to an old folks home, there to linger and molder away, forgotten and neglected while the aforementioned kids are happily enjoying the life of Riley back at the old homestead.  So we decided it was time to conduct a good ol fashioned throw-down. 

The icing on the cake was that my mom (you remember her, I am now the proud owner of her hands) and my brothers and my sister(in law) and my niece(my GOD I love that kid) all came up from good ol FLA to attend! AND My Dearest Husband’s Grandma came from 250 miles away along with his mom.  Most of our closest friends were able to attend.  The few that weren’t were in our thoughts.  Our new neighbors were here.  We had just the best time ever!  The best count we could get was approximately 47 people.  Not bad. 

The kids all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  The grownups all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  Even I was nice! (I think) It lasted from around noon until way, way late.  Actually it lasted until way early the next day.  We had two chefs that cooked on the grill for us.  OMG  They ruled!  My Dearest Husband’s Aunt and Cousin brought some kick ass goodies.  We cooked.  I say “we” as if I actually helped any!  LOL  I didn’t!  Don’t let me fool you.  I was absolutely NO help of any kind at all.  My help consisted of staying out of the way and trying not to talk too much.  Because by the day of the party I had been off my meds for a fair amount of days ( another story for another time) and I was having major difficulties even saying words.  Mostly I just wandered around aimlessly.  But at least I wasn’t destructive.  That in itself was helpful.

The bros and the hubbie knocked out a couple horse shoe pits and everyone threw some shoes.  Down here in Carolina you ain’t had a party if you haven’t threw the shoes.  After everyone left, my little brother, Pony, got out my guitar and he and my older brother, Pork Chop, and I sat out on the front porch and sang all the old songs while the dogs lay around under our feet.  Pork Chop said it was like being in Mayberry. 

The puzzle was mostly put together that day.  Only a few missing pieces.  It was good to have everyone here.  It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do that. 

Big party, lots of people, food, beer, family, friends, no bloodshed = success. 

*sigh* (insert big sappy grin) I love reunions.


Teenagers

June 8, 2007

Teenagers …………..  *sigh*  ……………..  nuf said.


Buddha’s Missing Body Part

June 6, 2007

Buddha came wandering in the room Sunday evening about 7:00 pm with the news that he had been throwing up all day and his legs were cramping and his stomach hurt.  You may think that the fact that I was so far behind on this information means that I don’t pay attention.  Let me disabuse you of this notion.

First of all, Buddha is secretive in his personal habits in the extreme.  He got this way when he was living at home.  I’m not sure exactly what survival instinct led him to that particular behavior, but you will almost never catch him doing anything in the way of personal habits at all.  He does do all those things like brush his teeth, take a bath, use the toilet, etc.  He just does it all on the sly.

Second, his sister is the twin of the Tasmanian Devil.  Being in her proximity is like being inside of a tornado that consists of blond hair and tiny bits of paper and chap stick and fingernail polish and puppies and shards of glass and blue eyes and bug juice and questions and clothes and makeup and arguments and chewing gum and an incessant stream of words and movement.  It’s hard to see past her sometimes.

Also, on the weekend, His Highness The Buddha, does not like to be disturbed when he is resting.  So I leave him to his own resources to decompress and do as he pleases unless I hear screaming or see blood pooling underneath his bedroom door.  Flames, smoke, the sound of breaking glass……these will also capture my attention. 

So, he tells me that he had been throwing up since morning.  *sigh*  I figure he’s dehydrated.  I give him water with a few grains of salt.  It all comes up immediately.  I smell a trip to the ER coming up.  I pack up the Tasmanian Devil, a few waiting room supplies, and Buddha.  Off we go to the ER for a quick IV of fluids to re-hydrate him and then we’ll be home and that will be that. 

Not so much. 

After about a gallon of drawn blood, about three gallons of IV fluids drained into him, a multitude of tests, and a CAT scan, we find out that he has appendicitis.  Wow.  Into the hospital he is admitted.  The surgeon will be there in the morning to talk about what we will do.

(insert ominous music here)  The surgeon comes in and tells Buddha that he must have the appendix out.  The instant Buddha realizes what the means he says, “Cut me?!!  OH NO!  I’m outta here!”   It’s everything we can do to keep him in the bed.  We talk and cajole and do everything but chase him down the hall and tie him to the bed.  By this time his belly is hurting him considerably.  We convince him that having the surgery will make his belly feel better and he finally agrees.  Whew!

It all happens quite quickly.  He’s in surgery in a matter of minutes.  They tell us he’ll be back in an hour and a half, be in the room.  When they bring him back up, he’s awake.  I ask how he’s feeling.  He rares up on the bed and yells, “THEY CUT ME AND IT HURTS!!”  We kinda forgot in all the excitement to tell him that the surgery was going to hurt pretty bad right at first.  Our bad.  *grimace* 

Once he was in bed and settled and the morphine set in, he informed me that people who were in the hospital get presents.  He would accept a video game, thank you.  Then whenever anyone called or came by, he would dutifully inform them of the same thing complete with his order.  I figure that he’s already calculated what his appendix was worth.

By the time he’s fully recovered, I’m going to have to watch out on eBay because he’ll be trying to sell his kidney for a Volkswagen.  A cornea for the downpayment on his college tuition.  😦  *sigh*

He’s home and feeling fine.  He disappeared from the couch about two hours after we got him home.  My Dearest Husband went looking for him, he wasn’t in the house.  Bella said he was up the drive.  Um…….up the drive???  Yeah, she says, riding his bike.  We walk out on the porch and sure enough, he comes slowly riding back down the driveway.  Just over twenty-four hours after his surgery.  We’re standing there with our bottom jaws resting on the tops of our shoes, staring at him.  He says, “What?”

Kids, ya gotta love em.


Tacky Behavior On The Part Of People Who Should Know Better.

May 15, 2007

I have recently been subjected to , and by extension subjected a dear friend to, Tacky Behavior On The Part Of People Who Should Know Better.  Now, I have been around this kind of trashy behavior all my life and I’m tired of putting up with it. 

In my younger more feisty days I would have put the gloves on and gone hunting down the offending trashites, looking for some much deserved justice out of their persons in some shape or manor, preferably involving bruising.  However, as I am older and slightly calmer now, I will wait for a bit, let things settle down , and find the right time for the information to come out.

You see, I myself take part of the blame for this trailer-park tinged behavior.  I accepted an invitation from a secondhand person to an event.  And since my radar isn’t in proper working order anymore, I completely missed the significance of that little faux pas.  However,  knowing the inviter like I do, I had to believe that it was ok to accept, as he has always been one of the most considerate and honorable men I know.  Therefore, when I was asked to invite a friend, I had no qualms about inviting a very, very good friend who is tenderhearted and a LOT of fun to be around.  We would go together, meet the rest of the group, and have a rip roarin good time at a few slightly raunchy places, thereby having stories to tell the grand-kids later that would make them blush and look at us in new and exciting ways!  It would all be good.

NOT!  We were excluded from the beginning.  It was rude to the point of ruthlessness.  It would have been kinder to have just told us after dinner that we wouldn’t be included in the rest of the festivities planned for the evening and so thank you for coming to the dinner and we’ll see you at the wedding.   Instead we were to follow the other two cars to a hotel and join them in a room that had been reserved.  We were out of the car and following them across the parking lot when they hit the door.  As we got to the door maybe ten feet behind them, we found it remarkable that the fifty feet across the lobby was entirely empty of the approximately 10 women who had just entered in front of us.  They were very swift of feet!  We also found that the door required a key card to open and we didn’t have one.  So we proceeded around to the front and inquired at the front desk as to whether they had a room in either of the names we knew.  She informed us that she couldn’t help us.  Not that there were no rooms in that name, but that she couldn’t help us. 

We spent a good fifteen minutes walking through the ground floor hall trying to see if we could hear a bunch of white trash bitches honking off behind any of the doors, but no such luck.  So, now having to admit that we had been deliberately ditched by this marvelous bunch of common hos, we have a few hours to kill.  We are both nearly speechless.  I mean seriously, how many times after you get out of the sixth grade do you honestly have to consider things like this happening to you? 

So we found a couple of ways to spend our time and then went home.  It was kinda sad.  It was even more sad the next day when again I saw two of the girls in the group and watched as they caught sight of me, turned to each other and began to giggle and laugh uproariously with each other. 

It makes me wonder about the kind of people who think that hurting people for sport is a good thing.  I wonder what kind of things they tell themselves to make it ok to hurt someone’s feelings just for fun.  I wonder what they say inside of themselves when they are choosing the next person to cause pain to, is there some certain trait that they are looking for?  Or is it just the next unfortunate person who comes into their sight?  I don’t understand how one goes about telling themselves that they have soooo many people just waiting in line to be their lifelong friend, that they can afford to callously toss good people aside like garbage and laugh about it. 

Like I said at the beginning of this whole thing, I’ve been around this kind of common, trashy, unraised, behavior all my life.  I’ve seen it a million times.  It comes from not being raised right in the beginning, then being too lazy to make sure that you choose to act right when it’s your turn to call the shots.  It’s just easier to roll on back to those less than humane beginnings . 

I have accepted my part in the hurt caused to my friend.  I have apologized to her several times.  If my brain was in proper working order my red flags would have been dancing the macarena at me over that invitation and I would have known better than to accept.  I was trying to help celebrate a new beginning for friends.   My friend was only there because I asked her to come with me.  It was my disability that caused her pain and for my part in that I am deeply sorry and ashamed.

Now let’s add to the entertainment by adding that the main person at the previous event managed to top off the event the following evening by hurting the feelings of an eight year old girl by popping off at the mouth to her at the end of a very long evening when said eight year old girl went to tell her that she was leaving. 

I am no longer surprised by the stupidity of people or the incredibly stupid things they do to hurt people for no good reason.  I see it and I feel it all the time.  It just makes me terribly, terribly sad.  I hope that they accomplished whatever it was they were planning to do by excluding us, and I hope it was worth the cost. 

Because (to quote myself) I’ve managed to live my entire life without them in it, and I’ll manage quite well to live the rest of it without them in it as well, and never really notice the difference at all. 

My friend is owed a huge apology.  A heartfelt apology.  I hope she gets one.

As for me, I am neither owed an apology, nor will I accept one.  I am done.


Where’s My Rubber Chicken?

May 8, 2007

It’s Buddha’s birthday today.  He is twelve.  Criminy, how did he get this age so fast?  Have we changed kids to dog years now?  He put us on a “money diet” about a month ago so we could prepare for this momentous day.  Told us we had to “slim down our budget” so that he could get more presents.  He’s a lil corker, that one.  This has nothing to do with the title of this blog, I just had to toss that one in.

One of my kids will invariably come to me at least once a week (there are three of them, I think they draw straws and take turns at this) and say, “Ma, it hurts when I do this:” and then proceed to make some kind of unholy, improbable gyration.  My response is always, “Where is my rubber chicken?  Then don’t DO that!”  And I make like I’m hitting them on the head with the invisible rubber chicken.  Well…….(insert maniacal laugh here) I bought a ……wait for it…….RUBBER CHICKEN at Eckerd’s Drug Store on Sunday!  That’s right, folks.  I am now the proud owner of a brand new rubber chicken!  Oh the joy I felt in my heart at the sight of that little ol box just chock full of rubber chickens!  The heavens opened up, a beam of pure heavenly light fell upon it, and the choir of angels began to sing!  A real live rubber chicken!  In all my days I never thought to really own one of my own!  I snatched that bad boy up before anyone could stop me and nearly ran to the checkout counter to pay for it.  Then, I took it to My Dearest Husband’s cousin, Turtle Neck’s, birthday party.  Heh. 

Oh My God!  If I had not been there myself, I would never have believed that it was possible to come up with three solid hours of cock jokes.  But we did.  Luckily we all have very low humor thresholds.  Doesn’t matter what it is, we can find a way to laugh at it.  (If you have a sensitive bone in your body it won’t be good for you to attend a family funeral with us.)

Every person there, adults and children alike, played with my cock.  Technically it’s not a cock, but like I said, we have a low humor threshold.  We choked the chicken.  The kids tossed my cock around the yard.  My Dearest Husband hit Possum’s friend Bubbles in the face with my cock. 

Birdie, my only natural child and the mother of Buddha and Bella, was half mad at me and half jealous when I told her I had it.  She said that her boyfriend is really afraid of looking forward to meeting me, because he wants to know where she gets her crazy unique way of looking at things.  First thing she said when I told her I had it was this:  Where’s my rubber chicken?  Then don’t DO that!!!   HAHAHA 

It was almost as good as the time the Pillsbury Dough-boy died.  Well, the voice of him did.  We did jokes all damn day.  We speculated all day about whether he committed suicide by sticking his head in the oven, or if he died of a yeast infection.  We thought we should send flour to his family.  We thought maybe we could bring about a miracle by putting him in a warm draft free place, placing a dishtowel over him, and seeing if maybe he would rise. 

*sigh*  Good times, Good times.


Youth Deficiency

April 17, 2007

I suffer from a terrible, terrible disorder.  It affects millions of people the world over.  Sadly there is no cure.  *sob*

This horrible malady causes a melting effect of the face that is frightening to little children and disheartening to the sufferers.  It leaches all color out of the hair, and causes an extreme overgrowth of the skin that creates a sagging effect on the body of the afflicted.

Strange lines and grooves appear in the faces, hands, arms, even……yes, even the legs of these poor, poor individuals.  Tiny dark spots show up out of nowhere.  They bend over as if weighted down.  Yet no weight shows up on any photograph or scientific test.

But the most debilitating of all of the symptoms of this terrible disease are the mental ones.  Imagine putting on your glasses to hunt for your glasses because you can’t see to look for your glasses without your glasses on!  Oh!  How horrible! 

Try, if you only can, to imagine burning the hair in your nose because you tried to light a cigarette that you forgot to put in your mouth!  *gasp*

Sad……so sad.  😦

Imagine going to a fast food drive thru, taking your false teeth out and wrapping them in a napkin while you eat, then tossing them out with the trash.  *sigh*

This malady is the scourge of millions worldwide.  It has no cure.  Send no money.  There is nothing we can do but cry.

Youth Deficiency!  Damn You!  Damn You!  Da  Hey Look!  I found my hair brush!  I’ve been looking for that!………Uh…… What was I saying? 


Gay Marriage

April 17, 2007

It amazes me that in the the most advanced time that we know of on this earth, in one of the most socially, economically, and scientifically advanced countries on this earth, we still can’t manage to keep our asses out of each other’s bedrooms!

Who cares if gay couples get married?  How in the hell does that possibly have any contrary effect on heterosexual couples?  And don’t come thumping any Bibles at me either.  Let me just remind you that one of the main reasons this country was founded was the desire for religious freedom.  That means that you don’t get to pound your mainstream Christian beliefs down my throat. 

We no longer need to be fruitful and multiply.  I think it’s pretty plain for anyone to see that the human race has gotten that one down pat.  We might even be said to have been excessively successful at it.  So, other than procreation, what is the problem?  

Let’s just put it bluntly.  Because heterosexuals are in the majority, we can just refuse to allow anyone in a minority the same rights and protections as us because they are different.  I thought we took care of that kind of idiotic thinking with the civil rights movement.  I guess not quite.

It’s funny….I notice that when children are young, you have to point out to them the same lesson over and over.  They don’t have the ability to apply a lesson learned in one situation to a slightly different situation.  It takes a little bit of maturity and a little bit of intelligence for them to get the hang of it.  Sadly it seems that we haven’t reached that point as a country yet. 

Aside from the fact that I just don’t feel like someone else’s sexuality is my business, the problem I most have with the national feeling against gay marriage is this:  if it’s OK for the majority to tell gay people who they are allowed to marry, how long will it be before they can tell YOU who YOU can marry? 

That may sound alarmist to you, all comfy and safe in your bed with your husband or wife.  But what if your spouse is of a different faith than you?  What if that becomes politically incorrect?  What if the majority suddenly decides that interfaith marriages are a security risk?  What if they’re un-American?  What happens if you can’t marry the person you love because their faith is one thing and yours is another?

Not their business, you say?  What about the separation of Church and State, you ask?  Good question!  What about that?  There are plenty of churches ready and willing to marry gay couples.  The states won’t legalize the marriages.  Their reasons are all based on religious beliefs.  That is a pure, unadulterated violation of the rules governing the separation of Church and State.  Go figure.  Not the first example by far, and certainly won’t be the last.

Here’s the deal.  We let it slide that two people who love each other and are willing to make a legal binding commitment to each other, be told that they can’t do it because someone doesn’t like what they do in bed together.  We let it slide because it isn’t us.  We let it slide because we are ignorant, embarrassed, afraid.  We let it slide.  And the next thing that happens is, someone is standing in our bedroom door making judgements about whatever private things we do that are none of their damn business, and saying that we can’t do it because the majority says it’s wrong.

Couldn’t happen here, could it?  Not in America.  Not in the land of the free.  Well, it’s not really free anymore though, is it?