I consider myself an amateur stalker. I have had a few celebrity crushes, but I just don't seem to be real good at it. I either forget I'm supposed to be stalking someone or I'm so overt that I'm like Orson Wells trying to hide out at the Super China Buffet on his 40th trip up to the Crab Rangoon tray. I have checked out tips and tricks from other stalkers and I guess I'm just not that into it. And now that gas is up to $2.38 a gallon I'm rethinking my motivation because the weekly trips past Rush Limbaugh's house are just not yielding the results I had hoped for.
My sister has a stalker. He's a total moron though so don't be alarmed. He's about as good a stalker as William Lepeska. And frankly I'm surprised no one's stalking that guy, he looks eerily like Hugh Laurie!
My sisters stalker is more like a pathologically lying, wanna be player. He kinda reminds me of M.C. Hammer's comeback, "Yeah, we all know who your are, but we realized we just don't have to care anymore." He thinks he's fooling people, but in reality he's been quite the laugh factory. He just shows up unannounced, tells everyone how great he's doing and leaves. It's like meeting up with your high school sweetheart at the reunion, hearing all about how he invented the beer hat and lives in his own castle, only to find out that he actually still lives with his mommy and is a late night cook at the IHOP. Bummer!
Showing up unannounced is stalker 101 my friends, but you really need to have a better plan than saying something cliche like "You had me at Hello" when you arrive. What you really need to practice is appearing at places the person went to eat or shop. Sit at the table next to them or follow them down every aisle making shifty eyes every time they look your way. I don't know how to do it, I'm just sayin'.
I started stalking my husband about three years ago. He's called the cops a couple times, you know, just when I got a little close to him, but nothing serious. I drive by my house a lot, real slow and blast Peter Gabriel "In Your Eyes" out the window. I know it sounds strange, but I think he's coming around.
Now, if you have to drive a long way to stalk someone, please, please, pick up a Trip Tic at AAA so you can see where the rest stops are. Otherwise your going to get caught with those diapers in the trunk and that's really not sexy at all. Who Does that?!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Iditos in Healthcare
For starters, who is the idiot that decided it's acceptable for doctors to waste everyone's time? I have sat in the "waiting room" of many offices where I think they are watching me toss yet another magazine across their coffee table on close caption TV from the break room in the back, popping Lortab and laughing their asses off. WHAT is going on back there? And just a tip to the people who think that the ob that delivered your daughter 21 years ago really cares that she's getting married now and living in Kalamazoo and working part time at the grocery store ... he DOESN'T. Quit running your mouth about nonsense. Your holding up the line for the rest of us while he's trying to be polite and not mention the thing about her eyes being crossed and did it ever get fixed.
Now, if you miss an appointment you get charged a fee, what kind of bullshit is that? If you don't want me to be your patient tell me to screw off otherwise my time is as valuable as yours and frankly your holier than thou attitude is making me want to set up a lot of appointments as random identities of people with serious needs that never show up. "Yes. Dr. Dickhead, your new patient with the basketball sized tumor on his left nut never showed up?" "Gee, that's strange, send him a bill to that P.O. Box on file, you'll hear from him after that!" "I don't know what happened, but your 4:00 emergency patient with the corncob lodged in her ear never showed." "She'll call back, no one can exist too long with a corncob lodged in their ear."
People want to fix health care how about we fix appointment times. I got an idea, how about if I show up late I have to go to the back of the line and if you don't see me on time I get 20% knocked off my bill for every 15 minutes. Now, I know what you're gonna say, there's real medicine going on back there and there is no way to truly calculate how long things will take, right? That I should understand when I get back there I will get the same time and attention that everybody else does. Well, I say let's use some common sense people! You spent eight years in college, your Rn's and nurse practitioners ... I would guess at least 6, maybe 7 and that equals approximately ......... fuck if I know, but I know it's a lot of hours of education. This isn't brain surgery Dr. McMoneybags, if the patient in Operatory 1 has a hangnail and the patient in Operatory 2 has a gunshot wound, tell the patient in Op 1 that he needs to go home and suck it up. You'll call him when you're done with the real medicine and you have nothing better to do.
And here's another tip for saving time. If a patient calls you and says they need antidepressants, do you really think there faking it? Why would someone fake depression? And if they are faking it, they're nuts and they still need their ticket out of crazy town like the rest of us, so call it in. You don't need to see them.
God Damn, do we really need to fill out four pages worth of paperwork, sit in your waiting room for an hour and a half to get in the back so you can tell us how we need to lose weight. We know this! Has anyone gone to the doctor, had him suggest that you need to lose weight and you responded, "I'm in total shock! I was wondering why everyone was calling me baby hippo! Can I please just get my meds before I kill your cashier on the way out."
And another thing. What moron had to come up with this idea that EVERYWHERE in your doctor's office there needs to be signs! Tell us if you're pregnant, Tell us if you've changed insurance. Tell us if you're on any medication. Can't you read the 400 questions you just asked me to answer on these useless pieces of paper that look like I just got the 1,000 copy of the copy of the copy.
And what about the people who can't read, are they just shit out of luck? I layed down and put my feet in the stirrups at the Gynecologist's office and there's a sign on the ceiling that says, "Payment is expected when services are rendered." I threw a hundred dollar bill on his instrument tray when he was finished, got dressed and left feeling really, really dirty.
Before I go I just want to say, stop suing your doctors for ridiculous shit. Unless of course they take off a leg when you came in to have blood drawn. Now that's just wrong. Who does that?!
Now, if you miss an appointment you get charged a fee, what kind of bullshit is that? If you don't want me to be your patient tell me to screw off otherwise my time is as valuable as yours and frankly your holier than thou attitude is making me want to set up a lot of appointments as random identities of people with serious needs that never show up. "Yes. Dr. Dickhead, your new patient with the basketball sized tumor on his left nut never showed up?" "Gee, that's strange, send him a bill to that P.O. Box on file, you'll hear from him after that!" "I don't know what happened, but your 4:00 emergency patient with the corncob lodged in her ear never showed." "She'll call back, no one can exist too long with a corncob lodged in their ear."
People want to fix health care how about we fix appointment times. I got an idea, how about if I show up late I have to go to the back of the line and if you don't see me on time I get 20% knocked off my bill for every 15 minutes. Now, I know what you're gonna say, there's real medicine going on back there and there is no way to truly calculate how long things will take, right? That I should understand when I get back there I will get the same time and attention that everybody else does. Well, I say let's use some common sense people! You spent eight years in college, your Rn's and nurse practitioners ... I would guess at least 6, maybe 7 and that equals approximately ......... fuck if I know, but I know it's a lot of hours of education. This isn't brain surgery Dr. McMoneybags, if the patient in Operatory 1 has a hangnail and the patient in Operatory 2 has a gunshot wound, tell the patient in Op 1 that he needs to go home and suck it up. You'll call him when you're done with the real medicine and you have nothing better to do.
And here's another tip for saving time. If a patient calls you and says they need antidepressants, do you really think there faking it? Why would someone fake depression? And if they are faking it, they're nuts and they still need their ticket out of crazy town like the rest of us, so call it in. You don't need to see them.
God Damn, do we really need to fill out four pages worth of paperwork, sit in your waiting room for an hour and a half to get in the back so you can tell us how we need to lose weight. We know this! Has anyone gone to the doctor, had him suggest that you need to lose weight and you responded, "I'm in total shock! I was wondering why everyone was calling me baby hippo! Can I please just get my meds before I kill your cashier on the way out."
And another thing. What moron had to come up with this idea that EVERYWHERE in your doctor's office there needs to be signs! Tell us if you're pregnant, Tell us if you've changed insurance. Tell us if you're on any medication. Can't you read the 400 questions you just asked me to answer on these useless pieces of paper that look like I just got the 1,000 copy of the copy of the copy.
And what about the people who can't read, are they just shit out of luck? I layed down and put my feet in the stirrups at the Gynecologist's office and there's a sign on the ceiling that says, "Payment is expected when services are rendered." I threw a hundred dollar bill on his instrument tray when he was finished, got dressed and left feeling really, really dirty.
Before I go I just want to say, stop suing your doctors for ridiculous shit. Unless of course they take off a leg when you came in to have blood drawn. Now that's just wrong. Who does that?!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Underinformed Opinions
People's sense of entitlement to sound off about anything they feel like has become so out of control. Didn't your mother tell you not to talk about things you don't know anything about? I think it is a right to have an opinion and express it, but not if you're under qualified.
I don't presume to know how to fly a plane and don't argue with pilots as to the fastest route to Flagstaff, Arizona. Especially if I think the pilot had one to many Glenlivet's and soda at the secret pilot airport cave. Stop sitting on the plane running your mouth about the fact that because you've flown on planes so many times you can tell that the pilot is coming in too quickly and the landing won't be as smooth as your accustomed to. Nobody gives a shit what you think and next time buy two seats so I don't hang myself from the no smoking sign in the bathroom from sitting next to your ridiculous ass.
We all have things we're good at, but you can't be good at everything. I hate a "know it all." I just want to punch them in their inaccurate and limited knowledge heads. Stop trying to act like because you had carpal tunnel surgery you are now an expert on Neurology. You weren't even awake during the procedure jackass. That's like going to a clown college and asking the best and the brightest clowns if they are familiar with the opinions in Stephen Hawking's book The Large Scale Structure of Spacetime. They're clowns and they know it. They're good at making people laugh not mathematics and so unless one of them previously graduated from Cambridge majoring in Applied Physics they shouldn't be sounding off about quantum mechanics.
I also hate celebrities under the age of 20 telling me their opinions on politics. First of all you haven't been on the planet long enough to have any opinions and your young and rich so shut the hell up! Until you've sat in your college dorm room starving and scared to call your dad for more lunch money because you blew your wad on ecstasy, than don't tell me you have a clue about how the rest of us are going to survive. We've been in the trenches. There are life lessons you have not yet experienced. We've all gone in to the 711 high after coming up with the plan for one of us to shoplift a bag of Cheetos and 6 pack of Strohs and leave IOU's in place of it, while the other one distracts the cashier with the old "can you give me directions" trick. This makes us experts in poor budgeting and therefor can have opinions on government spending. We've also been to 711 stock room jail to get our shoplifting tickets so we can now opine on National Security. Got it?
If any of you celebrity idiots want to come out and say something intelligent about a problem we are facing in our nation, have at it, but it must go a little deeper than "I support Obama." That's like saying, "I support Jimmy Choo". You mean you gave entirely too much money to fall and bust your ass in a pair of 6 inch stilettos that the democrats want to outlaw in 16 states because people with no insurance keep coming into the emergency room with broken ankles.
So before you tell me how you're now an expert in martial arts because you watched the latest Jackie Chan flick, recorded yourself imitating the fight scenes and posted them on you tube ... learn how to read a book or I'm gonna kick your Cliff Clavin ass. Who does that?!
I don't presume to know how to fly a plane and don't argue with pilots as to the fastest route to Flagstaff, Arizona. Especially if I think the pilot had one to many Glenlivet's and soda at the secret pilot airport cave. Stop sitting on the plane running your mouth about the fact that because you've flown on planes so many times you can tell that the pilot is coming in too quickly and the landing won't be as smooth as your accustomed to. Nobody gives a shit what you think and next time buy two seats so I don't hang myself from the no smoking sign in the bathroom from sitting next to your ridiculous ass.
We all have things we're good at, but you can't be good at everything. I hate a "know it all." I just want to punch them in their inaccurate and limited knowledge heads. Stop trying to act like because you had carpal tunnel surgery you are now an expert on Neurology. You weren't even awake during the procedure jackass. That's like going to a clown college and asking the best and the brightest clowns if they are familiar with the opinions in Stephen Hawking's book The Large Scale Structure of Spacetime. They're clowns and they know it. They're good at making people laugh not mathematics and so unless one of them previously graduated from Cambridge majoring in Applied Physics they shouldn't be sounding off about quantum mechanics.
I also hate celebrities under the age of 20 telling me their opinions on politics. First of all you haven't been on the planet long enough to have any opinions and your young and rich so shut the hell up! Until you've sat in your college dorm room starving and scared to call your dad for more lunch money because you blew your wad on ecstasy, than don't tell me you have a clue about how the rest of us are going to survive. We've been in the trenches. There are life lessons you have not yet experienced. We've all gone in to the 711 high after coming up with the plan for one of us to shoplift a bag of Cheetos and 6 pack of Strohs and leave IOU's in place of it, while the other one distracts the cashier with the old "can you give me directions" trick. This makes us experts in poor budgeting and therefor can have opinions on government spending. We've also been to 711 stock room jail to get our shoplifting tickets so we can now opine on National Security. Got it?
If any of you celebrity idiots want to come out and say something intelligent about a problem we are facing in our nation, have at it, but it must go a little deeper than "I support Obama." That's like saying, "I support Jimmy Choo". You mean you gave entirely too much money to fall and bust your ass in a pair of 6 inch stilettos that the democrats want to outlaw in 16 states because people with no insurance keep coming into the emergency room with broken ankles.
So before you tell me how you're now an expert in martial arts because you watched the latest Jackie Chan flick, recorded yourself imitating the fight scenes and posted them on you tube ... learn how to read a book or I'm gonna kick your Cliff Clavin ass. Who does that?!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
FOOD
Let's talk about food. There has been so much negative discussion about food that I have decided to to put a new spin on it.
First of all, just so you know, I consider myself a tractor beam of hotness. I went through all that body image bullshit when I was younger. I'm too short, my butts not round enough, my tits are too BIG! Well, I'm 41 and have three kids and I think I look pretty good for what I've put into my body. I tried dieting after all three of my kids were born. I didn't last one flippin' day. I like food too much.
My husband says if you cut me I would bleed cheese. He's partially correct. If I was asked would I like a blood transfusion to survive or a grilled cheese sandwich I would only have one question, "Is it munster or cheddar?" Although my dad can make a mean grilled swiss on rye. I have definitely taken the desire to eat something tasty to a new level. Have you ever seen a commercial where someone looks like they are having an orgasm while enjoying a yogurt? That's me. I love food so much that if you said "Hey fatty, do you want to be skinny and rich or obese and poor?" I would answer obese and poor quicker than it takes Oprah Winfrey to grow her next chin.
Being skinny is debilitating, horrifically boring and downright painful. It's so painful that it makes people throw up. Yes, skinny people vomit a lot! Can you believe that? Being skinny makes you sick to your stomach. If I feel like my food is coming back up I hold on tighter than Eric Roberts trying to hold on to his career when his agent says, "Take the Young and The Restless gig. It's all I got".
I suffer from dieter's remorse. If I start a diet I feel guilty that the cheesecake I left in the fridge is going to suffer abandonment issues
I have some simple tips for anyone suffering from dieters remorse.
1) Stop worrying about food, it's just food! Worry about something important like how much money you threw away on the 60 leftover pouches of powdered eggs that you bought from Nutri Systems and never ate because you'd rather eat a moon rock.
2) Don't eat fast food. Not because it's fattening, but because it tastes disgusting. Does anyone hit a Burger King drive through, eat their meal and say that was delicious? NO! NEVER!
3) If you want a sleeve of Oreos, have it, but just not four times in a row.
4) If you don't like cheese, try it again. I think your missing something.
Another thing that pisses me off is all the "It tastes just like it" food. "I can't believe it's not butter?" You can't believe it because it isn't and it never will be. "Have this Toffuti Burger it tastes just like a burger." "No, it tastes like cardboard with non fat mayo on it." People who make non fat mayo should be hung from a yardarm. Mayo is supposed to be delicious and full of fat. Stop fucking with mayo, mayo is fine the way it is. "I can't believe this hot dog is soy product. It tastes just like a real hot dog." "No, it doesn't it tastes like a pickled turd." And finally Lactose free ice cream, really? If you are lactose intolerant ... hold on ... I got to stop laughing. Lastose intolerant! Everybody is lactose intolerant. Dairy hardens your arteries, disrupts your digestive system and gives you gas, but the stomach cramps are worth it. Tell me Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia isn't good! Yeah, I don't like getting struck by lightening either.
I did hear about a guy who never leaves his bed because he's so fat, I get that, but what I don't get is the dumb ass who works all day to support his food habit. People wait on these fat asses hand and foot. "I NEED MORE MOUNTAIN DEW AND FRIED CHICKEN!" "I'm coming darling." Look here Shamu, here's a phone, call somebody who gives a shit!" Who does that?!
First of all, just so you know, I consider myself a tractor beam of hotness. I went through all that body image bullshit when I was younger. I'm too short, my butts not round enough, my tits are too BIG! Well, I'm 41 and have three kids and I think I look pretty good for what I've put into my body. I tried dieting after all three of my kids were born. I didn't last one flippin' day. I like food too much.
My husband says if you cut me I would bleed cheese. He's partially correct. If I was asked would I like a blood transfusion to survive or a grilled cheese sandwich I would only have one question, "Is it munster or cheddar?" Although my dad can make a mean grilled swiss on rye. I have definitely taken the desire to eat something tasty to a new level. Have you ever seen a commercial where someone looks like they are having an orgasm while enjoying a yogurt? That's me. I love food so much that if you said "Hey fatty, do you want to be skinny and rich or obese and poor?" I would answer obese and poor quicker than it takes Oprah Winfrey to grow her next chin.
Being skinny is debilitating, horrifically boring and downright painful. It's so painful that it makes people throw up. Yes, skinny people vomit a lot! Can you believe that? Being skinny makes you sick to your stomach. If I feel like my food is coming back up I hold on tighter than Eric Roberts trying to hold on to his career when his agent says, "Take the Young and The Restless gig. It's all I got".
I suffer from dieter's remorse. If I start a diet I feel guilty that the cheesecake I left in the fridge is going to suffer abandonment issues
I have some simple tips for anyone suffering from dieters remorse.
1) Stop worrying about food, it's just food! Worry about something important like how much money you threw away on the 60 leftover pouches of powdered eggs that you bought from Nutri Systems and never ate because you'd rather eat a moon rock.
2) Don't eat fast food. Not because it's fattening, but because it tastes disgusting. Does anyone hit a Burger King drive through, eat their meal and say that was delicious? NO! NEVER!
3) If you want a sleeve of Oreos, have it, but just not four times in a row.
4) If you don't like cheese, try it again. I think your missing something.
Another thing that pisses me off is all the "It tastes just like it" food. "I can't believe it's not butter?" You can't believe it because it isn't and it never will be. "Have this Toffuti Burger it tastes just like a burger." "No, it tastes like cardboard with non fat mayo on it." People who make non fat mayo should be hung from a yardarm. Mayo is supposed to be delicious and full of fat. Stop fucking with mayo, mayo is fine the way it is. "I can't believe this hot dog is soy product. It tastes just like a real hot dog." "No, it doesn't it tastes like a pickled turd." And finally Lactose free ice cream, really? If you are lactose intolerant ... hold on ... I got to stop laughing. Lastose intolerant! Everybody is lactose intolerant. Dairy hardens your arteries, disrupts your digestive system and gives you gas, but the stomach cramps are worth it. Tell me Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia isn't good! Yeah, I don't like getting struck by lightening either.
I did hear about a guy who never leaves his bed because he's so fat, I get that, but what I don't get is the dumb ass who works all day to support his food habit. People wait on these fat asses hand and foot. "I NEED MORE MOUNTAIN DEW AND FRIED CHICKEN!" "I'm coming darling." Look here Shamu, here's a phone, call somebody who gives a shit!" Who does that?!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Children and common brain disorders.
My sister is a court reporter, we call her "The Repeater". She is a verbatim reporter which means she can repeat, transcribe and certify every word you say in a deposition. Scary huh? I would like this in life. Not for me, but for everyone else I come into contact with, namely my children. I always remember exactly what I said, it's all the other not yet diagnosed Alzheimer patients that live with me.
As I have gone through my life I have spent numerous hours using and abusing my brain cells. It really is a mystery to me how I am functioning on such limited resources. These new creatures of earth who are born with 16 trillion brain cells ... yes, 16 trillion I looked it up one time, can't seem to remember to brush their teeth and wash their own asses. Now, none of what I have said comes as a surprise to anyone in my position, but riddle me this ... if there are millions of synapses going off in the human brain at any given time, than does the contents of a juice box make your above average child appear to have amnesia? Can't answer, can you?
My 5 year old can sing in perfect harmony the entire Morrisey tune Let Me Kiss You, but can not seem to understand why I am getting angry, for the 17th day in a row, answering NO to the question, "Can we go to Toys-R-Us?" Where are this kids priorities? At that age you would think some basic forms of human existence would be sinking in. Don't bite your friends or you will go to timeout, brush your teeth or you will have to have them drilled on, wash your ass or your mom will do it for you ... and frankly moms don't understand the nuances of the family jewels, their delicacy and close proximity to other areas that need scrubbing.
We all talk about them when they are babies, try to figure out what they are thinking. "Oh, look at him staring at the dumpster, I guess he's gonna be a garbage man." "Oh, look at her staring at your earrings, I guess she's gonna be a gold digger." Nothing prepares us for ages 3-12 when the Alzheimer Amnesiacs Association moves in and starts holding it's meetings at your dinner table.
"Do you have any homework?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No, wait ...yes."
"Yes, you're sure or yes you have homework?"
"I have a little."
"Than why did you say you didn't?"
"What?"
"What?"
"You said what first?"
FUCK!
I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. And this carries over into everything they do.
"Did you wash your hair in the shower?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Let me smell your hair."
"Oh, wait ... I can't remember if I did."
"Son, you stepped out of the shower 4 seconds ago, how do you not remember?"
"What?"
"What?"
FUCK
Seriously, I feel like I am raising politicians. Will they ever learn or will I be calling them at age 40 leaving messages on their answering machine saying "Son, it's your mother. Did you remember to brush your teeth this morning?" And then go into a 15 minute diatribe about the importance of dental health. I know this happens it's happened to all of us. "WTF, does my mother think I'm an idiot?" Yes, she does. She spent the first 21 years of your life (18 if she was lucky, 28 if she wasn't) taking care of your dumb ass, she knows how dense you are.
I recently heard on the news that some parents are not using diapers at all and potty training their kids from birth. Whenever they think the kid needs to go they hold him over a toilet. "I'm 4 days old, I just opened my eyes, I'm scared and I don't need this kind of pressure!" Who does that?!
As I have gone through my life I have spent numerous hours using and abusing my brain cells. It really is a mystery to me how I am functioning on such limited resources. These new creatures of earth who are born with 16 trillion brain cells ... yes, 16 trillion I looked it up one time, can't seem to remember to brush their teeth and wash their own asses. Now, none of what I have said comes as a surprise to anyone in my position, but riddle me this ... if there are millions of synapses going off in the human brain at any given time, than does the contents of a juice box make your above average child appear to have amnesia? Can't answer, can you?
My 5 year old can sing in perfect harmony the entire Morrisey tune Let Me Kiss You, but can not seem to understand why I am getting angry, for the 17th day in a row, answering NO to the question, "Can we go to Toys-R-Us?" Where are this kids priorities? At that age you would think some basic forms of human existence would be sinking in. Don't bite your friends or you will go to timeout, brush your teeth or you will have to have them drilled on, wash your ass or your mom will do it for you ... and frankly moms don't understand the nuances of the family jewels, their delicacy and close proximity to other areas that need scrubbing.
We all talk about them when they are babies, try to figure out what they are thinking. "Oh, look at him staring at the dumpster, I guess he's gonna be a garbage man." "Oh, look at her staring at your earrings, I guess she's gonna be a gold digger." Nothing prepares us for ages 3-12 when the Alzheimer Amnesiacs Association moves in and starts holding it's meetings at your dinner table.
"Do you have any homework?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No, wait ...yes."
"Yes, you're sure or yes you have homework?"
"I have a little."
"Than why did you say you didn't?"
"What?"
"What?"
"You said what first?"
FUCK!
I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. And this carries over into everything they do.
"Did you wash your hair in the shower?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Let me smell your hair."
"Oh, wait ... I can't remember if I did."
"Son, you stepped out of the shower 4 seconds ago, how do you not remember?"
"What?"
"What?"
FUCK
Seriously, I feel like I am raising politicians. Will they ever learn or will I be calling them at age 40 leaving messages on their answering machine saying "Son, it's your mother. Did you remember to brush your teeth this morning?" And then go into a 15 minute diatribe about the importance of dental health. I know this happens it's happened to all of us. "WTF, does my mother think I'm an idiot?" Yes, she does. She spent the first 21 years of your life (18 if she was lucky, 28 if she wasn't) taking care of your dumb ass, she knows how dense you are.
I recently heard on the news that some parents are not using diapers at all and potty training their kids from birth. Whenever they think the kid needs to go they hold him over a toilet. "I'm 4 days old, I just opened my eyes, I'm scared and I don't need this kind of pressure!" Who does that?!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
I hate being sick!
So, I am sick. Again! Got it from my kids who got it from other kids. Not that big of a shock considering that in order for kids to miss a day of school due to illness they must submit to an Open MRI, bring a stool sample in to the school nurse, pick up four days worth of future school work and produce a recent background check. Parents have gotten to the point where they are not only afraid to keep their kids at home when they are sick, but know that if they do the principal and his posse will be at their house within the hour with more backup than was reported at the Branch Davidian Massacre to haul them in for a water boarding session to find out what's really wrong. "The fucking kid has a fever! I swear!"
What dumb ass group of idiots have ruined this for everyone? My oldest son has straight A's every year. In gifted classes, always has his homework done, is clean (most mornings anyway), has lunch money, we go to the activities and parent teacher conferences, but if the tardy bell rings and he's not in his seat I hear choppers flying over my house with someone on a megaphone calling out, "We know you're in there!" What are people doing or not doing to make this such an issue and why are all of us being punished for the sins of a few?
I'm pissed about it. The older child I can understand somewhat, but I also have a kindergartner. "Why wasn't your son in school today?" "Oh, I'm sorry, did he miss the whole day on the color orange? Trust me he'll be caught up by tomorrow. I'll ask him to show me something orange, he will and I'll praise him, okay?" This is not brain surgery people, it's really quite simple. If you can pass the test than you can move on.
I understand that education is important, so let's put the importance on education not regulating how much money I need to spend at the local urgent care where I have to go to produce a bogus doctors excuse from the most recent Doogie Howser wannabe nurse practitioner. "Yes, your son has a fever Mrs. Young." "No, shit! A fever? Are you sure? I hear they came out with these new fangled contraptions that actually allow you to test the body temperature of a human at home." "Whoa! Slow down, what might they call these strange and scary objects of medical madness?" "A thermometer. Who knew?"
Give me a fucking break people. And the irony of it all is they tell you not to allow your child back at school until he has been fever free for 24 hours. "So even if he is feeling better, don't bring him here. You'll need to either lie about his condition or go to jail for breaking truancy laws. Yeah, nobody said life was fair."
Speaking of sick people, I did read a story about a guy who was intentionally infecting people with the HIV virus just for scuzz. So word to the wise, water boarding can come in handy when you need to find out if someone is lying about what lovers contamination they may or may not be carrying. Who Does That?!
What dumb ass group of idiots have ruined this for everyone? My oldest son has straight A's every year. In gifted classes, always has his homework done, is clean (most mornings anyway), has lunch money, we go to the activities and parent teacher conferences, but if the tardy bell rings and he's not in his seat I hear choppers flying over my house with someone on a megaphone calling out, "We know you're in there!" What are people doing or not doing to make this such an issue and why are all of us being punished for the sins of a few?
I'm pissed about it. The older child I can understand somewhat, but I also have a kindergartner. "Why wasn't your son in school today?" "Oh, I'm sorry, did he miss the whole day on the color orange? Trust me he'll be caught up by tomorrow. I'll ask him to show me something orange, he will and I'll praise him, okay?" This is not brain surgery people, it's really quite simple. If you can pass the test than you can move on.
I understand that education is important, so let's put the importance on education not regulating how much money I need to spend at the local urgent care where I have to go to produce a bogus doctors excuse from the most recent Doogie Howser wannabe nurse practitioner. "Yes, your son has a fever Mrs. Young." "No, shit! A fever? Are you sure? I hear they came out with these new fangled contraptions that actually allow you to test the body temperature of a human at home." "Whoa! Slow down, what might they call these strange and scary objects of medical madness?" "A thermometer. Who knew?"
Give me a fucking break people. And the irony of it all is they tell you not to allow your child back at school until he has been fever free for 24 hours. "So even if he is feeling better, don't bring him here. You'll need to either lie about his condition or go to jail for breaking truancy laws. Yeah, nobody said life was fair."
Speaking of sick people, I did read a story about a guy who was intentionally infecting people with the HIV virus just for scuzz. So word to the wise, water boarding can come in handy when you need to find out if someone is lying about what lovers contamination they may or may not be carrying. Who Does That?!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Passive Aggressive Much?
What is it with people who can't take a hint? I think I might be one of them. I have contemplated this enough to know I am one hard headed, pain in the ass. If I don't get what I want I will turn into one of two things. Lindsey Lohan at her latest press junket being ever so incredibly passive aggressive. Or more of a victim than Monica Lewinski being brought into the oval office by Paul Tulley to have a stop and chat with Bill Clinton where he explains how oral sex isn't sex and she should have all of her clothes dry cleaned immediately because he knows somebody who knows a guy who can make the IRS crawl up her ass faster than a cheetah on crack.
I apparently need such a beating with a baseball bat to the back of the head to learn a lesson that I have actually had people try to beat me in the back of the head with a baseball bat. I'm generally rational but I have a hard time believing any explanation I give myself for why something is not going a certain way. I think I'm too smart. Yes, way to smart. I can read minds, predict events and preemptively stop someone from doing horrible things to me just by eating a swiss cake roll. Now, I know that sounds far fetched, but have you ever had a swiss cake roll? I am convinced they have special powers.
As my mother-in-law would say, "You couldn't run that dog off with a shitty mop." I am definitely that dog when it comes to being right. I have died on a lot of hills and I can tell you the best ones have been covered in the blood of someone else's opinions. I can be downright vicious or cry so hard you think I am Little Orphan Annie after ten years of changing Daddy Warbucks diapers, feeding him jello and finding out she got dick at the reading of the will.
I have tried though. I have been to my share of therapy and had my own interventions, but since starting menopause I have realized it's, ok. Anyone wanna throw a rock at my glass house you go right ahead. I like the fresh air anyway. I have embraced my personalities and if you can read minds like me, raise your hand because there are more of us than you know. As a matter of fact there's more of us than there are of Ashton Kutcher's tweets.
To those of you who think it's cool to tell me the dream you had about how immediately after I find out my son knocked up the first girl he layed that I ran my car into a telephone pole and you have this sinking feeling it may come true .... keep it to yourself. I know everything already anyway so have a swiss cake roll. Who does that?!
I apparently need such a beating with a baseball bat to the back of the head to learn a lesson that I have actually had people try to beat me in the back of the head with a baseball bat. I'm generally rational but I have a hard time believing any explanation I give myself for why something is not going a certain way. I think I'm too smart. Yes, way to smart. I can read minds, predict events and preemptively stop someone from doing horrible things to me just by eating a swiss cake roll. Now, I know that sounds far fetched, but have you ever had a swiss cake roll? I am convinced they have special powers.
As my mother-in-law would say, "You couldn't run that dog off with a shitty mop." I am definitely that dog when it comes to being right. I have died on a lot of hills and I can tell you the best ones have been covered in the blood of someone else's opinions. I can be downright vicious or cry so hard you think I am Little Orphan Annie after ten years of changing Daddy Warbucks diapers, feeding him jello and finding out she got dick at the reading of the will.
I have tried though. I have been to my share of therapy and had my own interventions, but since starting menopause I have realized it's, ok. Anyone wanna throw a rock at my glass house you go right ahead. I like the fresh air anyway. I have embraced my personalities and if you can read minds like me, raise your hand because there are more of us than you know. As a matter of fact there's more of us than there are of Ashton Kutcher's tweets.
To those of you who think it's cool to tell me the dream you had about how immediately after I find out my son knocked up the first girl he layed that I ran my car into a telephone pole and you have this sinking feeling it may come true .... keep it to yourself. I know everything already anyway so have a swiss cake roll. Who does that?!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Boring Ass Politicians
Last night I saw about 4 seconds of news before I flipped to the paint drying channel to get some stimulation. Do we really need to report on various objects (shoes, books, etc.) being thrown at our boring ass, mentally challenged, politicians? How about we spice it up a little people. If Obama's face comes up on the TV screen I fall asleep faster than a narcoleptic on dilaudid. I want some funny shit mixed in with the boring stuff. Make something up. We know you do it anyway so ... keep me interested.
What happened to the amusement of turning our presidents into sex crazed, pathological lying, druggies? Now, that was entertaining! Change ... country needs change! BORING! Tell me about the flimflam hustle that was started by the two hookers from Pakistan that Marilyn Manson introduced to Nancy Pelosi at a very innocently planned Tupperware party at Charles Ponzi's great, great granddaughter's house. Now that will keep me watching for the whole half hour.
Is anyone really wondering why we care about Brittany Spears shaving her head or finding out that despite all of our hopes and dreams being hinged on the one thing that was going to make our lives in some way meaningful ... yes, I'm sorry to report, Kim Kardashian's shit really does stink. I know your first urge is to go suck on a 45, but I promise she'll be back up on that pedestal soon. I wonder if these people wake up in the morning feeling like an elephant at Ringling Brothers saying to himself, "If they make me balance on that ball again today I swear to god I'm gonna hijack that cannon and blast a hole bigger than the Todra Gorge through the closest biomedical animal testing laboratory."
I'll tell you why it's happening, pure unadulterated boredom. Everyone has become these repeat whatever I hear or read drones. They can't even stop into a fast food restaurant without announcing that they just got a text from MSNBC that says the milkshakes there are laced with sodium pentathol and the government is recording all of it for their next vacation junket to Bohemian Grove. Where they will all laugh there assess off at the stupid citizens and the things they will admit to doing. Have an original thought, please. So I say stimulate me Obama and not with a check, with some juicy tidbit you spilled at the last State House dinner Truth or Dare game.
One more thing before I go ... I did hear that the good samaritan that alerted the police to the erratic driving of Heather Locklear which caused her DUI arrest, yes, was none other than a paparazzi photographer who sold the arrest pics for $27,000 .... um ... party foul! Who does that?!
What happened to the amusement of turning our presidents into sex crazed, pathological lying, druggies? Now, that was entertaining! Change ... country needs change! BORING! Tell me about the flimflam hustle that was started by the two hookers from Pakistan that Marilyn Manson introduced to Nancy Pelosi at a very innocently planned Tupperware party at Charles Ponzi's great, great granddaughter's house. Now that will keep me watching for the whole half hour.
Is anyone really wondering why we care about Brittany Spears shaving her head or finding out that despite all of our hopes and dreams being hinged on the one thing that was going to make our lives in some way meaningful ... yes, I'm sorry to report, Kim Kardashian's shit really does stink. I know your first urge is to go suck on a 45, but I promise she'll be back up on that pedestal soon. I wonder if these people wake up in the morning feeling like an elephant at Ringling Brothers saying to himself, "If they make me balance on that ball again today I swear to god I'm gonna hijack that cannon and blast a hole bigger than the Todra Gorge through the closest biomedical animal testing laboratory."
I'll tell you why it's happening, pure unadulterated boredom. Everyone has become these repeat whatever I hear or read drones. They can't even stop into a fast food restaurant without announcing that they just got a text from MSNBC that says the milkshakes there are laced with sodium pentathol and the government is recording all of it for their next vacation junket to Bohemian Grove. Where they will all laugh there assess off at the stupid citizens and the things they will admit to doing. Have an original thought, please. So I say stimulate me Obama and not with a check, with some juicy tidbit you spilled at the last State House dinner Truth or Dare game.
One more thing before I go ... I did hear that the good samaritan that alerted the police to the erratic driving of Heather Locklear which caused her DUI arrest, yes, was none other than a paparazzi photographer who sold the arrest pics for $27,000 .... um ... party foul! Who does that?!
Designer Dogs
About 3 years ago my husband and oldest son were at a gas station and a local redneck was there with dog kennels. She had Mastiff/Pit Bull mix puppies which is incredibly frightening in and of itself and then off to the side was what we ultimately named Lee Lee. Just one dog. "Yes, she's $100!" "Well, what is she?" "She's a Pomchi, can't you tell?" "Um, no"
Phone call comes in to me asking is it okay to buy this dog for 100 clams. "Well, can you talk her down to $75.00?" "Kim, this is a designer dog, a Pomchi, I don't think so." What exactly is a Pomchi? I look it up, absolutely adorable combination of a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua. I leave it up to him.
And so we have Lee Lee. About the ugliest mother fucking dog I've ever seen. She couldn't have weighed more than a half an ounce when we got her. Constantly getting lost. You could set her down in the half bath downstairs,wash your hands, turn around and she'd have disappeared in a matter of seconds. "Where the fuck did she go?" "Is that her?" "No, that's a piece of lint."
She grew and grew and then it was time to take her to the vet. Doctor took one look at her and said, "What the fuck is that?" "Why it's a Pomchi, of course." "That thing is neither Pom nor Chi." "Not really sure what it is, maybe long haired dapple dachshund." Okay.
We continued to find most people asking odd questions about what is that riding in our car, walking next to us or jumping on our couch. One night I am really taking a good look at it and I come to a realization ... "She's part hyena" I announce. Everyone agrees and we look up wild African dogs and there she is.
The Somalian Field Spaniel. FINALLY! We know what breed she is. What a relief. How incredibly frustrating knowing you spent $100 on something that might be part cat, part squirrel. Yes, a Somalian Field Spaniel. Looks just like one. We are convinced and so we proceed to answer the question with, "Why it's a Somalian Field Spaniel of course." "Oh, okay. I thought so." Dumb Ass!
There's no such thing. We made it up. We still don't know what she is. We have speculated .... hamster/capuchin monkey mix. Oh, Oh .... I got it! A red crested pochard/Persian hobbit. No, that's not it either. I can promise you one thing, Darwin is rolling over in his grave.
And so I wonder ... Labradoodle? Really? Who does that?!
Phone call comes in to me asking is it okay to buy this dog for 100 clams. "Well, can you talk her down to $75.00?" "Kim, this is a designer dog, a Pomchi, I don't think so." What exactly is a Pomchi? I look it up, absolutely adorable combination of a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua. I leave it up to him.
And so we have Lee Lee. About the ugliest mother fucking dog I've ever seen. She couldn't have weighed more than a half an ounce when we got her. Constantly getting lost. You could set her down in the half bath downstairs,wash your hands, turn around and she'd have disappeared in a matter of seconds. "Where the fuck did she go?" "Is that her?" "No, that's a piece of lint."
She grew and grew and then it was time to take her to the vet. Doctor took one look at her and said, "What the fuck is that?" "Why it's a Pomchi, of course." "That thing is neither Pom nor Chi." "Not really sure what it is, maybe long haired dapple dachshund." Okay.
We continued to find most people asking odd questions about what is that riding in our car, walking next to us or jumping on our couch. One night I am really taking a good look at it and I come to a realization ... "She's part hyena" I announce. Everyone agrees and we look up wild African dogs and there she is.
The Somalian Field Spaniel. FINALLY! We know what breed she is. What a relief. How incredibly frustrating knowing you spent $100 on something that might be part cat, part squirrel. Yes, a Somalian Field Spaniel. Looks just like one. We are convinced and so we proceed to answer the question with, "Why it's a Somalian Field Spaniel of course." "Oh, okay. I thought so." Dumb Ass!
There's no such thing. We made it up. We still don't know what she is. We have speculated .... hamster/capuchin monkey mix. Oh, Oh .... I got it! A red crested pochard/Persian hobbit. No, that's not it either. I can promise you one thing, Darwin is rolling over in his grave.
And so I wonder ... Labradoodle? Really? Who does that?!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Speaking of DVR's
I consider myself a pretty intelligent person. I am schooled in the ways of technology, I attended the Recording Workshop, I sat through a two hour seminar on how they recorded the hook in the Tubes classic, "She's A Beauty" by spitting a lougie in a metal trash can and recording it with a Neumann U87, but using the DVR, Blue Ray player with WIFI or operating the boys Nintendo DS's sends me into orbit.
Just recently we moved to back to South Carolina and my husband bought me all new appliances. The new refrigerator has a USB port on it so you can download pictures on the small TV screen just above the ice and water station. Is this necessary? Maybe? Maybe not. What's the protocol for the photos that should be posted in the 3x5 screen on the fridge? Can we do the "Vacation/parent bathroom rendezvous while we have a minute, and I mean a minute away from the kids" slide show. Or maybe the "I'll never drink again neighborhood block party where the swingers from down the street stick their tongues in everyone's ear in each and every photo." Not appropriate my counterculturalistic friends. Either way I can't operate the damn thing. I get impatient waiting on the ice to queue up so I can have my choosen liquid refreshment let alone adjusting any setting to make that a possibility.
Another thing I just can't seem to understand is why we have not incorporated a universal debit card reader. I understand the manufacturers are trying to get their share of the american pie by coming out with a new and better version of these already antiquated and prehistoric forms of payment, but can't we just have SOME commonality to this. I always find myself wishing I had my Uncle Ed, a NASA aeronautical engineer and former president of Lockhead Corporation standing next to me to explain the difference between the one at the local Stop and Shit and the one I'm trying to use to buy the latest issue of Fuck Me Running at the Airport Rip Off Mart.
I know technology is needed. I want the latest and most up to date technology in the operating room, flying my plane, downloading the latest Shakira song and manufacturing my sex toys, but let's slow it down just a touch. Let me learn how to use the Fuck-O-Lator 500 before you come out with the 600. That's all I ask.
Although I am on the fence about how many hours computer nerds need to be putting in at Apple, I want the person who put the "Your A Total Dipshit For Clicking On This Link" virus on my computer so he could get his rocks off to know ... I'm coming for you. Who does that?!
Just recently we moved to back to South Carolina and my husband bought me all new appliances. The new refrigerator has a USB port on it so you can download pictures on the small TV screen just above the ice and water station. Is this necessary? Maybe? Maybe not. What's the protocol for the photos that should be posted in the 3x5 screen on the fridge? Can we do the "Vacation/parent bathroom rendezvous while we have a minute, and I mean a minute away from the kids" slide show. Or maybe the "I'll never drink again neighborhood block party where the swingers from down the street stick their tongues in everyone's ear in each and every photo." Not appropriate my counterculturalistic friends. Either way I can't operate the damn thing. I get impatient waiting on the ice to queue up so I can have my choosen liquid refreshment let alone adjusting any setting to make that a possibility.
Another thing I just can't seem to understand is why we have not incorporated a universal debit card reader. I understand the manufacturers are trying to get their share of the american pie by coming out with a new and better version of these already antiquated and prehistoric forms of payment, but can't we just have SOME commonality to this. I always find myself wishing I had my Uncle Ed, a NASA aeronautical engineer and former president of Lockhead Corporation standing next to me to explain the difference between the one at the local Stop and Shit and the one I'm trying to use to buy the latest issue of Fuck Me Running at the Airport Rip Off Mart.
I know technology is needed. I want the latest and most up to date technology in the operating room, flying my plane, downloading the latest Shakira song and manufacturing my sex toys, but let's slow it down just a touch. Let me learn how to use the Fuck-O-Lator 500 before you come out with the 600. That's all I ask.
Although I am on the fence about how many hours computer nerds need to be putting in at Apple, I want the person who put the "Your A Total Dipshit For Clicking On This Link" virus on my computer so he could get his rocks off to know ... I'm coming for you. Who does that?!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Intervention
I have watched the show Intervention and I love it. It's "the funniest hour on TV" as they say in the biz.
Someone needs to stage an intervention for me so I will stop yelling at the DVR when it only records new episodes instead of all of them. "Damnit, it was supposed to record my favorite episode where the alcoholic surgeon who has lost his license for removing the wrong leg on a patient, performs an emergency tracheotomy on his neighbor with a pair of toenail clippers." That's the funniest one ever
I don't think the producers of the show meant for it to be this way, but that is one hilarious show. My husband and I talk through the entire thing and we've decided the funniest ones are the drunks. We discuss how boisterous and lively the alcoholics are .... well, until the crying part, than we hit the fridge for another cold one.
Most everyone has a reason for dabbling in excess with substance abuse, I certainly do, but some of the gimpy ass, preposterous and sometimes downright slap happy reasons these lovers of libations come up with are enough to make even the most liberal, Greenpeace, nut job roll his eyes. Come on people, make something up better than that. Or I got an idea, just be honest .... I ♥ tequila too much. Usually once you've graduated to the harder drugs you have the ability ... or should I say practice, and are able to maintain. Drunks are generally not able to do this which makes them much more amusing to watch.
I did see one episode where a college student was huffing computer cleaning dusters with her Siamese cat and trying to make it order Chinese takeout. Who does that?!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Oh my ... I never realized I had so much to say.
So let's talk about smoking. I myself am a smoker, bought my first pack when I was 15. I know it sounds like I'm proud of that, but really ... not so much. Although my husband who I have known since I was 15 says, "You've been smoking longer than you have been doing anything else in your life." This unfortunately is true and frankly I'm torn about being proud of such an accomplishment.
Recently it has come to my attention that they are no longer labeling my Marlboro Lights with the lights title. They are just "The Gold Box". Each time I end up in a local convenience store getting A LOT of attitude from whatever person who has been relegated to the cash register for that particular unsatisfying and underpaid shift I have to answer new questions regarding which brand of coffin nails I want. "Jesus, can I just get a pack of cigarettes?!"
Now, is ANYONE confused about the fact that cigarettes cause cancer? ANYONE? ANYONE? BUELLER? Seriously, what is the problem here folks? If anyone asks you "Did you know cigarettes cause cancer?" and your response is "Really? I didn't know that." Then you should get an extra pack free so the cancer gets you before the rest of us. Survival of the fittest if you know what I mean.
I can sign a waiver, get a tattoo, scarlett letter .... whatever they think I should do to stop this bullshit. Yes, I know, I know, I got it. Cigarettes are unhealthy, now can I just have them? Can I kill myself in peace, please? I am already being taxed to hell and back by a government that has no business telling me or anyone else what brand of posthumous fate I can or cannot participate in.
I promise, I'm down with no smoking indoors thing. I can't stand going to a smoky bar or restaurant ... well, unless it's in a fantasy where I am meeting a gorgeous ... wait, what was I saying? Oh yeah, smoking, I don't want to breathe anyone else's smoke either. Mine is certainly enough so no smoking indoors, down with that.
While living in rural Georgia I saw a lot of things that were incredibly disturbing, but none so much as pulling up to the elementary school, car in front of me with two kids in it, both parents smoking like chimney's with windows up and right as their children get out of the car they toss the cigarettes out the window. Who does that?!
Speaking of being dead!
So I have a real problem with people who constantly say, "I can't stand drama." Or "I steer clear of the drama." You mean you create some and then disappear?
I love it. All of it. The more drama the better. If you don't have drama in your life, you're dead. D-E-A-D, dead. That means no longer having life. I used to have a friend that had a propensity (tendency if you will) to give me definitions to words in emails. Thank you Professor Obvious.
Back to the drama queens and kings, you know who you are ... "I'm just not into all the drama." Whatever! "My mom was a drama major at NYU in the 60's. Does that make her a bad person?" I think not.
Here's the deal people, there are few things in life that you know for sure.
1) Gravity is not a therory, it is real. I swear.
2) At some point in your life you will say to yourself, "Did I leave the iron on?"
3) And lastly, expect some drama, it's coming for you.
Drama is what you make of it. I love dramatic people, they are fun to be with and incredibly interesting. Mostly they are great fodder and fun to make fun of. A real drama queen owns it. Says to the world, "Look at me I am a total idiot and you can't stop me." "I can wreak havoc where ever I go, leave you in my wake and never look back." I bet you never forget anyone who created some drama for you. If you don't like drama you're a god damn BORE.
All that being said, I don't like drama queens with Munchhausen disease, that’s never good. Who does that?!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Where to begin?
So in the midst of a crying jag at a friends house I realized I am really
pissed off at a few people. Namely my biological father. I'll
give you the reader's digest version!
I was born in New Jersey, my biological father worked on Wall Street as a bookkeeper, he worked in the "asshole" of Wall Street which is apropos because assholes should stick together. They called it that because they kept all of them in the bowels of Wall Street. Not up in the high rises with the incredible views of New York City, where all the beautiful people were, but in the back offices. When we were young he moved the family (mom, me and older sister) to south Florida. He drank entirely too much, had an affair and left. Loser! Total fucking alcoholic loser. Came to the house a few times drunk to pick us up, Mom wouldn't let us go. The times he was sober enough to pick us up, he would drop us off at his girlfriends house and leave. Did I mention he was a loser?
I was born in New Jersey, my biological father worked on Wall Street as a bookkeeper, he worked in the "asshole" of Wall Street which is apropos because assholes should stick together. They called it that because they kept all of them in the bowels of Wall Street. Not up in the high rises with the incredible views of New York City, where all the beautiful people were, but in the back offices. When we were young he moved the family (mom, me and older sister) to south Florida. He drank entirely too much, had an affair and left. Loser! Total fucking alcoholic loser. Came to the house a few times drunk to pick us up, Mom wouldn't let us go. The times he was sober enough to pick us up, he would drop us off at his girlfriends house and leave. Did I mention he was a loser?
After my mom's first marriage it didn't take her long to figure out what she wanted in a man. She took her lucky nickel, put it in the slot machine, pulled the handle and JACKPOT! We got my dad, Steve. Young, gorgeous, loving, hard working, honest. Total gentlemen. We were a group of really lucky gals. Some people aren't as fortunate as we were in that department, but I digress.
Ah, the loser, yes. Calls my mom in the middle of the night, just got out of jail. Drunk driving, cocaine possession ... something like that. Tells my mom not to call the cops on him for not paying his child support. Yup, never paid, not a dime. Says "One day I'll come back and tell the girls what really happened!" And what exactly is that? Never called, never wrote, not even a birthday card, fuck you, nothing.
Well, now we'll never know. He's dead. Had a heart attack. Buried, gone, worm food. However you want to say it, no warm body to punch in the face or hug, I guess. And I am pissed off about it. So here I sit saying to myself, "Who does that?!"
Where to end?
So ... for those of you wondering the photo is of me and my dad Steve, not the sperm donor.
A little while ago when I was living in what I like to call “Hee Haw Hell” (rural Georgia) ... won’t say the city so I can remain politically correct ... for those of you who know me “Kim, politically correct? Now THAT’S comedy.” Anyway, living in Hee Haw Hell, Georgia, on the phone with my sister, wishing we were rich. “Hey, I got an idea, look on one of those sites that lets you know if you have left money somewhere and they are just dying to get it to you” No dice. No money for us. “Hey, how about we look up the sperm donor and see if he has some money?” Nope, but right there in the Sun Sentinel ..... obituary. Holy shit .... he’s dead. Guess it slipped his mind that he was going to get in touch with us and let us know what “really happened.” Do you think when they found him he had a “To Do” list next to him?
Laundry
Grocery shopping
Get loaded
Call daughters to explain
Yes, I’m sure that was it.
Laundry
Grocery shopping
Get loaded
Call daughters to explain
Yes, I’m sure that was it.
So, I call the funeral home. They won’t give me any information because I’m not part of the “family”. But I explain that I am his daughter, nope not on the list. How about his other daughter? Nope. How can I reach one of his family members? Sorry, can’t help you. So I said, “Just tell me one thing. Did he have a to do list in his pocket when they brought him in?” “No? okay, thank you.”
Now I’m usually not one to dance on a grave, but I read this obit and frankly he’s a jackass. Married the lady he was screwing around on my mom with ... good for him. Oh and get this, he adopted HER son. Yes, the obit told all about what a great father and husband and family man he was.
Now, I don’t expect them to write anything about what a shit head he was, but give me a fucking break. “Great Father” yeah, to someone else’s child. What a low down dirty dog, a real piece of work. “Oh, you know what would be a real good idea? I’m not going to see or talk to my own kids ever again or pay their mother any money to help keep a roof over their heads. Some other schmuck can do that. But I’m going to adopt this other woman’s son and put a roof over his head and raise him.” “Yes, that’s a good idea. That’s what I’m gonna do.” What a moron.
Now, I don’t expect them to write anything about what a shit head he was, but give me a fucking break. “Great Father” yeah, to someone else’s child. What a low down dirty dog, a real piece of work. “Oh, you know what would be a real good idea? I’m not going to see or talk to my own kids ever again or pay their mother any money to help keep a roof over their heads. Some other schmuck can do that. But I’m going to adopt this other woman’s son and put a roof over his head and raise him.” “Yes, that’s a good idea. That’s what I’m gonna do.” What a moron.
My mom always said. “Girls, I don’t think he meant to hurt you. He was very sad and had a problem with substance abuse and he thought you’d be better off without him.” Well, “dear old dad” you were right. We were better off without you, not that you ever bothered to check.
Now that I have my own children I again find myself saying “Who does that?!”
More to come ...
More to come ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)