The One Called 'Mouth'

Mouth: "What's a bimbo?"

Me: "Chicks with like, big boobs and no brains."

Mouth: "Oh. I thought those were called blondes."

(Best part? He was totally serious.)

Balance

I HATE confrontation. I have yet to learn how to succesfully toe the line between being mature and ladylike and being a bitch and telling the asshole to f*ck off. I'm just not good with dancing between tact and bitchiness so I usually end up getting walked on and fuming about the encounter for days.

There's a woman at work who just started on our shift. Everyone went on and on about how awesome she was, how everyone loved her, how they HATED to see her move to first shift. I thought, fab! Can't wait to meet her!

Yeah. My very first encounter with her was mostly her being nasty to me. So of course when I am attacked out of the blue from someone I never expected to attack me, I freeze. I said, "Oh. Okay. I'll just go back to my area. Thanks!" Naturally, five minutes later I thought of all the things I should have said (which mostly involved the words "bitch" and "asshole".)

Second encounter, she butted into a conversation I was having with someone else claiming I was wrong about the issue of discussion. I calmly stood by my point but she didn't back down. I finally walked away, perplexed about how so many people liked her yet she's a total bitch to me for NO REASON.

Latest encounter, she verbally attacked - and I mean ATTACKED - me, chastising me for something I did. She just chewed me up and down before spitting me back out. And not only was she dead wrong in her argument but she had no place laying into me for anything! So I totally took the high road and responded, "Yeah, well, you do...." and let loose with something she does that I feel is wrong.

I know. Very mature of me.

So I have been Googling and looking through books on how to effectively deal with assholes. Most of the advice ranges from completely ignoring the asshole to going to the asshole and letting them know how you feel.

"Asshole, when you attack me, it makes me feel...." or "Asshole, what can I do to make our working relationship better?"

Granted, that's the mature route to go but DAMMIT I don't want to kowtow and be all "what can I change to make you happier with me?" I want to stick up for myself without looking like a raving lunatic!

And that is the balance I seek.

Mouth is having issues with a few boys at school. They tease him, call him names so he defends himself (wrongly) by calling them names right back. And of course the teacher only hears what Mouth says or someone tells on him. I've advised him to completely ignore the boys, and they will get bored and move on to a new target.

(However, a teeny little part of me wants him to say, "Listen dickheads. You think you're perfect? Your mom is orange from all the tanning she does. She looks like a f*cking handbag. And you? You're 30 pounds smaller and 4 inches shorter than the average sixth grader. Is your dad a troll or something? BACK OFF BITCHES." But as much as I would enjoy that, I would NOT enjoy the call from the principal that I would invariably get because little Emily overheard everything.)

Again, the balance. I try to think of a comeback that if said to me wouldn't piss me off but rather make me see what a bitch I'm being. I'm thinking the next time the woman at work is nasty to me I'll politely ask, "Asshole, do you attack everyone you work with or just me?" Maybe that'll stop her for a second and she'll realize I feel she's been attacking me.

Yeah right. She'll prolly start throwing things at me. To which I will calmly and maturely pick the thrown objects up and start throwing them back at her whilst calling her names only a truck driver would love.

Anyone have any tips you use to deal with assholes? How do you balance being assertive without being aggressive?

Thinking That.....

If you've been calling your kid the wrong name all day, it's time for a break.

True story.

Ello!

So sorry kids....I've been away creating a website for someone. Did I mention I freelance with writing and web design? (Well, more like I freelance with writing and wing it with web design. But I'm actually not half bad!)

*insert shameless plug*

If you or any of your loved ones, friends, coworkers, neighbors, or random people you meet on the street need professional help with writing...STUFF (i.e., brochures, letters, web advice, just about anything else genius is needed) then contact me!

www.scribeslikeus.com

I've now finished the website and am back to my regularly programmed snarky self.

Hallelujah!

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

My phone rang as I was driving to work this morning. It was Mother, of course. I JUST left her so she knows I'm not there yet...and she would never put me in jeopardy by distracting me while driving so it must be an emergency, right????

Mother: "How do you turn your Christmas lights on?"

Me: (Really???) "You plug them in."

Mother: "They ARE plugged in!"

Me: "Apparently not, since they AREN'T on!"

Mother: "Hey! Be nice. Today's my birthday."

Me: "Hey! Birthdays are no excuse for ignorance. Wait, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not saying you're ignor-"

Mother: CLICK.

Well, shit. Happy birthday, Mom!

Screw The Inventor of Daylight Savings Time

Pitch black outside at 5pm in the evening? Grrrr!!! No wonder I feel like strangling someone.

Good thing the fam is all coming together for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Our gene pool could prolly use a little paring down...

Blatant Brown Nosing

When I was laid off from my cubicle nightmare and became a full time stay-at-home game show viewer, I got hooked on a shit ton of blogs. Food blogs, 'Mommy' blogs, reality garbage blogs...if I dug it, I favorited it.

Then I got a 'real' job ('real' meaning one that required me to change out of my pajamas) so I wasn't able to properly keep up with all my blogs. Thank gawd my job was only part time so there was no need to fully exorcise my blog demons. I just pared the list down a bit, keeping up with my faves on my days off.

The following are the fortunate few who made my cut, and why I feel the need to continually stalk them (and btw, this blog is sponsored by no one. These opinions are solely my own. Especially the brown-nosing ones.)

Dooce: Dooce has sorta turned into 'douche' but I can't live without Chuck and Coco updates. And Marlo. That adorable little terror is gonna make for some inneresting posts real soon!

Barefoot Foodie: Brittany started out as a self-proclaimed "suck ass food blogger" but has turned into a bundle of madness and hilarity that keeps me hooked. LOVE. HER.

Absurd to Sublime: Reality garbage site - mostly on Real Housewives - but it's required reading if one wants to remain in the know about the Housewives dynasty.

Can You Stay For Dinner: Not only is Andrea smokin' hot but she's a total sweetheart who can cook her ass off. Hers is the only site I can consistently find recipes Mouth will eat.

FindaDeath: Ohmigawd. If you want to lose like two hours of your life, go on FindaDeath. You won't be able to stop looking at all the names in the directory (and be sure to click on ALL the photo links...unless you're not into gore and all that cool stuff.)

The Meanest Mom: I dig her. Probably because she had so many kids in such a short time span that I realized my life could be a LOT harder!

The Bloggess: I admit it, I was a little late in joining the Bloggess bandwagon but anyone who buys then names a five-foot metal rooster "Beyonce" and then leaves it at the front door for her husband to find wins my time.

FuckyeahAlbuquerque: My newest blog addiction. Not the most classy title but he finds the most RANDOM shit that cracks me up for hours.

Awkward Family Photos: Not really a blog but a total must. It also makes you realize that those painful group photo sessions you spent with your family at Olan Mills in front of the same backgrounds in place since 1964 weren't all that bad.

Life's Crazy Joke: I love Meredith not only because she named one of her sons 'Lars' (which just KICKS ASS) but because blogging isn't her life. She has a 'real' job during the day firing people and stuff and in her spare time she gets drunk and takes hot pictures of herself in the mirror, only to realize she was looking at herself with her own beer goggles. She's highlarious and I look forward to her posts, especially the 'Case Of The Mondays' advice. She's the inspiration behind this blatant brown-nosing blog because I was a little snarky on her blog and now want back in her good graces. MEREDITH KICKS ASS.

Parent Teacher Conference Time Again!

The good news? My kid's test scores peg him at a junior in high school.

The bad news? He's only in sixth grade.

So they're telling me I'm already dealing with a teenager's mouth and he isn't even in junior high yet? I'm gonna need a straight jacket by the time he hits college!

Either that or a new liver...

Tough Guys Like Sweets, Too

When Mouth is on Xbox, he tries to act and talk tough because that's what boys do. Once in a while, I catch him saying 'dammit' or 'hell'. I don't like it but I pick my battles. As long as he doesn't say it to me, we're cool. Tonight, I heard the jingling music of the ice cream man. Then I hear, "Man down! I'm going in. Patrick, cover me, take the left flank and....HOLY SHIT! IT'S THE ICE CREAM MAN. I'LL BE RIGHT BACK, GUYS!!!"

Something about that whole sentence just cracked me up. But after I finished laughing, I yelled at him for saying 'shit'.

Jingle Bells

Besides finding Ryan Gosling wearing nothing but a big red bow under my tree on Christmas morning, this is TOTALLY what I want.

Bless Her Heart

That poor little Taco Bell cashier. When she said, "Welcome to Taco Bell! How are you doing today?" little did she know I'd tell her exactly how I was doing today.

Another One Bites The Dust

Today is my birthday. I spent it in the ER (working, thankfully) so it kept my mind from thinking about how close I'm getting to 40. *chills*

So tonight, I will celebrate my 29th birthday in style - with a glass of wine (yes, only one as I have to work tomorrow) and a long, hot bath. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Unless I was actually turning 29. Then I'd totally be at a bar, slamming the birthday shots everyone was buying for me because 20-somethings can drink all night and still make it into work the next day with no problem.

Those little assholes don't know how good they have it. WAIT TIL YOU TURN 30.

Occupy This, Motherf*cker!

I worked my way through college and into a plum job in the corporate world. I made extremely (and by extremely, I mean extremely) good money. Did I deserve to make good money? Hell yes. Did I deserve to make as much as I did? Probably not. I wasn't saving lives - I was writing politically correct bullshit to make our employees feel like they worked for a good, socially responsible company. I was astounded by the influence my company had on local and federal government. (Although I did have to wear pantyhose and high heels every day. That ALONE is almost worth what I made!)

American citizens are finally standing up for themselves against corporate greed. Some argue these protestors need to stop feeling entitled to benefits they haven't earned. Others advise them to "go out and get a job so you won't be in the situation you are in now." Having a job, a comfortable home, and gainful employment does NOT exempt you from being in the 99 percent. It's about distribution of wealth and how very few people own most of our country's wealth. Wealth equals power, and power equals influence - which means democracy is being taken out of our hands and given to the one percent.

Unfortunately, many people don't know they're in the 99 percent. This is a fantastic letter to those who are blinded by the smoke and mirrors of corporate control.

One week ago, I was working in the ER and a truck came screaming up to the front door. The passenger, a guy in his 20s, was slumped over the dashboard. He was wasn't breathing and was purplish blue. A nurse and two techs (techs are like nurse assistants - they're usually nursing students and/or EMTs) ran out to the truck and found no pulse. The driver said his friend had been shooting heroin and became unresponsive in the truck.

In front of a partially full waiting room, the three staff members pulled the guy out of the truck and onto a bed. As the nurse steered the bed into the ER, one of the techs jumped on the bed and started performing CPR. The other tech put an oxygen mask on him and started pumping the bag. I ran ahead opening doors.

We ran into the room screaming that we needed help. Staff came running and flew into action. They administered Narcan, which counteracts the effects of the heroin. Within 45 seconds of being wheeled into the room, the guy started coughing and turning a healthier shade of pink. These people saved his life.

Although doctors and nurses earn good wages (as they should) the two people who kept this man alive until others could intervene earn barely more than minimum wage.

THIS is what Occupy Wall Street is about. It's not about feeling entitled to others' money - it's about the monopolization and corruption at the top of the corporate world that trickles down to everyone.

I currently live at less than poverty level. Do I miss having money and being able to buy anything I wanted, whenever I wanted? HELL TO THE YES. (Especially Tiffany & Co. jewelry. Oh the blue boxes!!! SWOON!)

Am I willing to give it up to help save lives and make a small difference in this greedy world? Hell to the yes.

I am the 99% and you are, too.

Did You Miss Me????

Not to worry - I didn't forget my legions of fans here! I've had some issues involving Mouth so my mind has been in another world (sometimes in Chardonnayland, but I disgress.)

I'll be back in rare form this weekend with some intelligent (read snarky) commentary on the Occupy Wall Street issue.

Until then, let's raise our glasses and go balls to the walls!!!!!!!

Which loosely translates as, "I'm going to bed after I finish my glass of wine because I have to work early tomorrow. Night!"

Okay, Pinocchio

A sure sign of a shady person? They lie real well. And I'm not talking, Um, DUH! Shady people are used to lying so they can totally keep their stories straight! I'm talking, "I really truly wished I could have been there this evening but my grandmother was taking my daughter to Target and this dude in a red Camaro smashed into their car! They were both transported to the hospital in c-collars, which my mother HATED, but they were thankfully released 3 1/2 hours later with only bruises and scrapes!"

Total bullshit.

I have a pretty good bullshit detector. My gaydar is waaay off but my bullshit detector? SPOT ON. I don't know if it's from all the jackasses I've dated or from all the bullshit I've dished out but I've learned: the more detailed the story, the more bullshit it is.

My mom owns a few apartments in a little town where no one moves on purpose - know what I mean? You don't move here...you END UP here (like me!) Anyhoo, she gets some real inneresting people trying to rent from her and, bless her heart, she tries so hard to find good tenants.

Last week, she had a lady interested in a vacant apartment. She was a welder (not judging) with a motorcycle (okay, totally judging.) She was supposed to bring her deposit and first month's rent on Saturday afternoon. The woman didn't show for her appointment but Mother texted me later with, "The girl worked late and completely forgot about our appointment!" I'm like, Hmmmm. Okay. Personally, if I was desperate for a place to live I wouldn't forget about meeting my new landlord but okay. Benefit of the doubt!

"She's going to meet me at 7pm. Yay!"

6:30pm: "The woman who wants the apt called about 15 mins ago and said she was on her way in. She just called again crying and said she just got a call that her daughter was on her way to Walmart when she had an accident. Some old lady rammed into her and she veered off into a corn field. The woman was heading back to go to the hospital. I feel so badly for her!"

Really? Hmmmmm....

Color me distrustful but I'd bet my life savings (which is like, five dollars) that this woman is shady. S.h.a.d.y. SHADY.

"Don't call her. If she calls back, make her wait two days before you meet with her again. Guarantee you she won't call back cause shady people don't like to wait."

Poor mother, who may actually believe OJ was innocent, didn't understand. So I explained that shady people like to be in control. They want what they want, when they want it. So she agreed to wait a few days.

Fast forward four days. Nada. Nothing. TOLD YOU SO!!!! Apartment is still vacant.

And thank GAWD because that chick would have moved in next door to me. Next door to the apartment I live in because I had to move here.

And I'm a bullshitter with a lot of time on my hands...so potential tenants BEWARE.

A Little Perspective

When I was 18 years old, I sold my chemistry book for beer money. When Jewel was 18 years old, she wrote this song.

Wow. Just...wow.

Ragsville

In my hypothetical town, I would require drive-thru establishments to post a standard list of rules. You no follow the rules, you no get food!

If you aren't sure what you want, GO INSIDE to peruse the menu. The people behind you know what they want to order. (Side note: This will happen at McDonald's. I will literally roll my window down and say, 'Yo! It's McDonald's. Most of the menu hasn't changed since 1954. Get on with it!)

Have your money ready at the window. Meaning, don't count out $4.82 in exact dimes and nickels.

If the line is steadily moving, don't put your car in park every time you stop. It's super annoying to have to wait for you to put your car into drive every 5 seconds.

PAY ATTENTION. If the car in front of you moves, you must move!

We all know it sucks balls to order Chicken McNuggets only to get home and find a Filet o' Fish. However, either give your sack a cursory glance or PULL OVER to inspect your food.

No one over age 75 allowed.

Hmmm.....

Why does my grocery store stock cans of tomatoes not with the canned fruits or canned vegetables - where a normal person would look for it - but in the spaghetti aisle?

Perhaps they figure all canned tomatoes will turn into pasta dishes? Or perhaps they just like to SCREW WITH PEOPLE? In which case they won, as today I stood in the canned fruits and vegetables aisle yelling, "Seriously. SERIOUSLY? If tomatoes aren't a fruit or a vegetable, then what the hell are they?!?!"

Grocery Store 1, Rags 0

Bless His Heart

Mouth told me I was "the best mom in the whole world!"

Poor little guy. He wouldn't know a homemade chocolate chip cookie if it bit him on his ass.

Lawn Mowers Are SO Yesterday

Mouth: "Wouldn't it be cool if our lawn was emo? Then it would cut itself!"

Me: "Ha!!! Wait...how do you know about that?"

Mouth: "Psht. PuhLEASE. I'm going into sixth grade."

Me: "....."

Mouth: "But what does emo mean?"

Me: "It means no more internet after 7 pm."

Reality TV Moment

I admit it...I LURVE reality tv. I've been following reality trash since Real World in New York (first season, natch!) The worst part is there are certain shows I really try not to like...but then I happen to watch one episode at 3 am and then I MUST FIND OUT WHO WINS (e.g., The Bachelor, Top Chef, Shear Genius.)

I've been riding the reality wave with joy but my worst fear is it will go south. And by south, I mean Jake Pavelka as 'The Bachelor'.

Slowly I'm seeing my cherished reality shows go down the tubes...if that is possible. Examples:

• The Bachelorette: The Bachelor was so obviously sexist that producers smartly started offering America's fave chick (who usually got dumped by Prince Charming in the Bachelor finale) a chance at love through 'The Bachelorette'. Very smart move. Trista met Ryan, they had 2 kids...YAY! Fast forward to Jillian. And Ashley. These days, just because a girl is the runner up doesn't mean she's hot. I think Bachelor producers got a little full of themselves and started casting without polling America. No surprise that ratings are waaaay down.



• Real Housewives of New York: Gawd, I love these ladies. I've been following them since day one. However, the recent reunion show was almost too much. They are all sick of one another by this point and I don't blame them. I'd pay deeply to bitch slap every single one of them. Including Jill. Twice.



• Real World/Road Rules: The pioneers of reality garbage. What started out as social experiments has turned into drunken fueled drama amongst 20somethings who obviously have never held gainful employment. I miss Julie, Eric, Kat, Mark and the MTV Winnie.



• Sixteen and Pregnant/Teen Mom: I wish I had seen either one of these shows in high school. Or college. Jesus, I never would have had unprotected sex...or really sex AT ALL...if I had watched the trials and tribulations of Farrah, Amber, and Maci. As a single mom, I have a tough time watching new seasons. I totally yell at the tv like, "Don't trust that little shit! He'll leave you once he realizes newborns don't sleep for more than two hours at a time!" And "He's not waking up at night to change diapers? Don't let that douchebag sleep! WAKE HIS ASS UP!" And "Oh, you think you'll go on to college with a baby because come on, a baby isn't a big deal?!? Good luck with that!"
  



• Jersey Shore: So awful you just HAVE to love it! I'm totally fist pumping as I type this.



• Keeping Up With The Kardashians: Who? Wait...how the hell are these girls famous again??? I have a big ass. Where's my reality show?????? Never watched it, never will.

Wanna know how pathetic I am when it comes to reality crap? I was up late one night and found a show called, "Groomer Has It". It was a reality competition among dog groomers. I literally sat there and thought, "What the hell has this world come to when we showcase the lives of dog groomers???" But damn it to hell if I didn't watch the whole season because I HAD TO KNOW WHO WON. (Bee tee dub, Huber TOTALLY deserved the win!)

I'm self diagnosing here (and yes, the grammar dick in me is annoyed my hyphen still doesn't work) but I think I love reality crap because....my life has been upended and SUCKY the last few years. It makes me feel a little better to see other people's lives go down in flames, too. But thankfully they're not people I know personally because then I would feel like shit for them.

So until I work my life out to supreme happiness, I will remain addicted to reality garbage.

Except for Charm School. I'm totally a fan of throwing bitches under the bus to screw Brett Michaels but having Sharon Osbourne chastise the manners of girls with neck tattoos? That's a bit much.

Even for my trashy mind.

Hmmm......

Just saw an Amish woman - in full Amish gear - chatting on a cell phone.

Lemme get this straight. She doesn't have electricity but she has a cell phone?

My kind of girl!

Are You Drunk Or Just Stupid?

The good news is I taught Mother how to text, which has ended her incessant calls to me every time a thought popped into her head.

The bad news? When Mother texts her sister, her mother, her best friend or her neighbor, she instead texts me. I receive texts daily that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. Which is only mildly annoying until one starts, "Don't say anything to Regan, but...."

Big, Fat Crybaby

I have a cousin who cries at everything, even baptisms. Seriously. At every family gathering we can count on Dae to bawl at least once (usually during the prayer before the meal.) Her crying starts my aunt crying...and starts me rolling my eyes, further convinced I'm adopted. But something changed in the last decade or so, and I turned into a big, fat crybaby.

Growing up, I wouldn't cry for anything - not even funerals. I'd feel sad and want to cry but I fought to hold it in. Even at my dad's memorial service when I was 12 years old, I held it in. NO WAY was anyone going to see me cry!

Then I had my son. In the days that followed, my hormones were raging and I cried at everything - tv shows, greeting cards, the Mastercard commercial with the guy and his injured dog...everything.

After the hormone flood subsided I got tough again. I didn't cry for almost a year. And then my grandfather died. It was sad but I didn't cry at his funeral. It was just before Christmas so it was blistery cold and windy outside. We caravaned to the gravesite, and everyone huddled tightly together in the tent with the coffin. Mouth fell asleep on the way, and I didn't want to wake him so I left the car running and stood by it. I couldn't hear anything because of the wind so I just hunkered down and waited for the service to end.

Then I noticed five little old guys in military caps lining up outside the tent. My grandfather was in the Navy so I figured they had something to do with the ceremony. When the service ended (which I couldn't tell because I couldn't hear anything) the five little guys raised their rifles and simultaneously fired three shots.

Oh. My. God.

Here I was, in a desolate snowy field with the chilly wind whipping around me, watching these men solemnly salute my grandfather. I EFFING SOBBED. I think my cousin (who was stuck outside the tent as well) and I were the only ones who witnessed it because none of our family heard or saw anything. I looked at her, and she was sobbing, too. I will never, ever forget that moment.

After that day, something changed in me. I started crying at more things (no commercials but I will admit Extreme Home Makeover got me a few times.) Then a close friend of mine died. She just didn't wake up one morning. She left behind a husband and teenage twins. I went to her funeral and just couldn't stop crying.

Two years later, another one of my friends died. She also didn't wake one morning. She was only 28 years old and was one of the funniest people I've ever met. I was sobbing so hard at her funeral I think the pastor wanted to bitch slap me!

After that, I frikkin' cried at just about everything. I had some shitty bosses at my old job who would chastise me (and others) for every little faux pas. I would go into my manager's office thinking, I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry. Sonofabitch, I would cry every time! You would think they would be afraid I'd go postal on them or something and would stop making me cry!

I left that toxic environment (or rather, they laid me off) and I moved on to the hospital. I see a lot of death and grief in the ER but I haven't once cried. I've consoled widows and hugged sobbing men. I even saw a 9 month old baby die and witnessed his mother fall to pieces over his body. Didn't cry. It was so, so sad but I didn't cry.

I think that's one of the many reasons nursing feels right for me. I think I've turned a corner and am ready to start a new chapter.

God, I hope so because if I start crying at baptisms I'm TOTALLY committing myself.

This Is Gonna Get Inneresting

Many of you know I possess a bachelors degree in communications, which is proving to be about as useful as a shit covered flyswatter (and yes, my hyphen key is still broken or I would have properly hyphenated that adjective. GAWD, I'm so anal!) So I've decided to be the ultimate glutton for punishment and go back to school.

Nursing school.

I realize I pass out every time I have blood drawn but apparently all those hours working in the ER softened my heart a bit and made me want to help others. (Okay, it's mostly the table saw injuries and protruding bones. Those kick ASS!) However, I have to take a few classes to prepare me for my new career...including chemistry, which I dropped in college. Four times.

The community college where I am taking a biology and chemistry class this fall has already put me on academic probation because FIFTEEN YEARS AGO I signed up for a class during a summer break home and ended up dropping it (it was chemistry, natch) so I've already got that going for me.

Everyone buckle up and put your tray tables in their full, upright positions because we're about to have some FUN now!

*end sarcasm

Randomly Heard

"I waxed your chin and you've washed my bangs. Now we're even!"

Secrets

You know when you have a secret and you can't tell ANYONE because no one can find out...but then you suddenly realize there's one friend you can totally tell because she doesn't know any of the people involved???

GAWD, IT FELT GOOD TO FINALLY LET THAT OUT.

Sticks and Stones

Ever met someone who was goth with the name Kylie? You're like, "WTF? Kylie is a blonde cheerleader who's bubbly and ditzy. You're more like...a Morticia."

When I hear the name Darrell, I immediately think redneck. I don't think I've ever met a hot Darrell. Ooh! Another redneck? Randy. (Then again, Randy usually looks smokin' hot in his Levi's but not really someone I want to take home to my white-collar parents.)

What happens if your name is Floyd and you turn out hot? Do you stick it out? Go by your middle name? (Which hopefully isn't something like Garth.) Change it completely? My mom's best friend was born Darlene. She was cute and blonde and hated her name all her life. She finally legally changed it to Lauren. She DOES look more like a Lauren...but I still slip and call her Dar sometimes.

What makes us associate names with faces? Is it our life experiences with people? (I dated a Jimmy from Kentucky when I was in college. Now, all Jimmys are rednecks to me.) Is it universal? (Again, anyone ever seen a hot Darrell???)

Hmmm...someone should TOTALLY investigate this phenomenon. Like for a master's thesis.

Rex: Total porn star.
Willie: Just give the kid a complex now, ok?
Darryl: Redneck who thought he got hot so tried to alter his redneck name without legally changing it.
Gary: Any hot Garys out there? Yeah, didn't think so.
Peter: No explanation necessary.
Bo: You want your son to be called gay whether he is or not? Name him Bo.
Any boy name with a Y in it (Austyn, Bradyn, Claytyn): See Bo.

Twenty bucks says Leonardo DiCaprio was born Leonard Calhoun. He got hot so he HAD to change his name.

Flippin' sexes on ya. The girl name I'm seeing a lot in the ER is Nevaeh. Yes, yes, it's heaven backward but still.

Katie: Total bitch. (But my view may be a bit skewed as my former co-worker whom I also refer to as 'Queen Bitch of the God Damn Universe' is named Katie.)
Sophia and Madison: Unless you want your daughter to be forever known as 'Sophia S.' or 'Madison P.' STOP NAMING YOUR GIRLS SOPHIA AND MADISON.
Kiley: Again, totally bubbly. Usually blonde. Want to hate her but is actually sweet. Bitch.
Misty/Destiny: White trash.
McKenzie/Mackenzie/McKayla/Mackayla: I'm Mcdone with it.

I'm sure I've offended every single person reading this as you have prolly named at least one of your children an above-mentioned moniker. I'm sorry. And sometimes names JUST FIT. Whether it's the kid or the last name, it just works. So please count yourself in that exception. :)

Hell, who am I to talk? I didn't even give my kid a middle name. And he hates his first name so I have that going for me, too.

What names bug YOU?

Things I Think About At 3 A.M.

* Why do we still have daylight saving time? Didn't Benjamin Franklin pitch that idea back in the day? Like, when most Americans farmed for a living? And before we had electricity? I don't know about you, but I'd rather go to work in the dark and have a few hours of light in the evening. Cause 5:00 pm sunsets SUCK.

* Why do I have to wait until noon to buy liquor on Sundays? I'm not driving drunk nor am I going to attend church while drunk. I'm over 21 years of age so WHY CAN'T I GET VODKA FOR MY SUNDAY MORNING BLOODY MARY AT 10 AM???

* Why can't I ever find a lid to fit the pot I'm cooking with? I can find every other frikkin' lid but the one I need.

* Why would you pay $300 for someone to pull one tooth? Seriously. A couple shots of whiskey, some pliers and a brave friend would do it for me. (Which is also prolly why I floss daily. Man, I need to steer Mouth toward dental school...)

* Why is it a person on food stamps is not able to buy a grocery store cooked rotisserie chicken but can freely splurge on gum and Red Bull? (Didn't know about the Red Bull until this morning. Thank you, State of Illinois!)

* Once again, HOW THE HELL IS TARA REID FAMOUS AND I'M NOT???

* I despise whistlers. Especially those who whistle pop tunes like Journey. Or Enrique Iglesias. I totally would have smacked that chick if I wasn't at work. Or if she wasn't my coworker.

* Why is it that when I spilled a glass of wine on my keyboard, I was lucky enough to only lose the function of my five, six and hyphen keys? (Yet I still bitch about not having them. In fact, this is a not(hyphen)so(hyphen)thinly veiled bullet point bitch about not being able to hyphenate or type my zip code.)

Eat Your Heart Out, Rachael Ray!

Cause this girl knows how to COOK.

Thinking That.....

You're offering unbelievably delicious samples of spring rolls in the frozen food aisle, and I've fallen in love with them. So why, pray tell, are you now telling me you sold out of them hours ago?

YO, DUMBASS. STOP THE DAMN DEMO IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE DAMN PRODUCT.

Dickhead.

He's lucky I didn't shove him into the freezer behind him. But he was like, 90 years old. And I need a battery charge like I need a hole in my head.

Then again, those spring rolls were frikkin' finger-licking good. Battery is only a misdemeanor....right?

Now I Lay Me...

Excerpt from Mouth's bedtime prayer last night:

"...and please keep us safe from all sicknesses, accidents, death, nuclear explosions - well, explosions regardless - and please help Japan and Haiti recover. Amen!"

Too much television? Xbox? Both???

Come Here, My Little Pretty!

Tonight's weather involves rain, a smidge of lightning and thunder, and a severe thunderstorm warning. So imagine my surprise when I heard the familiar jingle of The Ice Cream Man.

Seriously? Are your over-priced popsicles worth the risk of kids running out in a thunderstorm just to purchase your products???

Hell yeah, it is!

What is it about The Ice Cream Man? When I was young, I'd hear the bell and the music from a block or so away and race to find my mom (or rather, her wallet.) A colorful van would pull up to the curb, and a group of us neighborhood kids would gather round and heartily snatch up his tasty treats. It was frikkin' magical!

As an adult, I think back to many moments in my childhood - moments that seemed "normal" and "okay" then...but now? Not so much. Like running the neighborhood at seven years old, returning home only because it was getting dark. Or sledding down 'Kill Hill' because supposedly two kids died in a toboggan mishap. Or riding a bike WITHOUT A HELMET.

Or running out to The Ice Cream Man, whose lecherous looks and creepy music beckoned kids from afar. Things I swore I'd never let my kid partake in.

Yeah. Mouth can hear The Ice Cream Man eight blocks away. No lie. At the first tinkle of music, he bolts down the stairs (many times falling down the last four steps) and yells, "He's here! Gimme some money!!!" And of course I cave. The Ice Cream Man pulls up, and he's just as creepy as I thought he'd be. Although he had professional-looking pictures of his merchandise on the side of the van, I still searched for some sort of health department license to guarantee he wasn't selling poison. I also asked his name so I could run it through the sex offenders database.

But he turned out to be okay. Nice guy...mostly toothless but drives reeeeal slow by our place so Mouth has a chance to fall down the stairs and find money. And no poison in the popsicles yet.

Yesterday Mouth again sensed the now-familiar creepy jingle and flew out the door. I went with him (mostly because I was digging change out of the bottom of my bag.) We ran around to the service side of the van...and stopped. This wasn't the regular Ice Cream Man. This was a skeezy imposter!

He said, "Heeeey there...what can I get you two darlings?" He only sold six items - and his menu was spray-painted on a board he taped to his van.

Oh. Hell. No.

I grabbed Mouth and ran back across the street. Mouth was all, "Dude, he's creepy!"

THANK YOU, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.

About 30 minutes later we heard music jingling again. I cautiously peeked out my window - and saw our familiar Ice Cream Man coming down the street. I yelled, "He's here! The legit guy is here!" Mouth and I both ran out, and I honestly wanted to kiss that creepy guy!

So now to my surprise, and to Mouth's pleasure, I'm more than happy to buy (and eat) ice cream from a toothless guy who prolly lives in his van.

But I'm drawing the line at drinking vodka tonics while driving an RV cross country.

Not that my father ever did that.

(It was the 70's, for christ sake!)

Ah, Mother's Day

So...Mother's Day. Many people posted sweet sentiments on their Facebook and Twitter accounts yesterday, writing things like "you kissed my boo boos...wiped my tears...wiped my butt...you're my best friend!"

Yeah.

Have I mentioned I live four doors down from my mother now? Not four houses but four - one, two, three, FOUR - doors away from my mother.

Don't get me wrong - I love my mom. With everything that's happened to me over the past two years, the only reason I'm not living in a cardboard box is because of the generosity of my mother. But still...

Did I mention I now live FOUR doors down from my mother???

Happy Mother's Day.

Jimmycat

My new neighbors own several animals (one being the most adorable pup in the world who looks like a little teddy bear.) Amongst their brood is a black cat named Jimmycat, who was born missing some bones in her front arms. This makes Jimmycat a pretty pissed off pussy (sorry, couldn't resist!) who generally meows and hisses at everyone. Except me. I don't know what it is about babies and animals but most of 'em love me.

Behold, Jimmycat (aka The Walrus):

I Love My Job

Dude. I'm not too sure your dreads properly highlight your little gray hoodie that's accented with flowers and rhinestones. Not to mention the fact that it's obviously sized for a six-year-old child.

Fat guy in a little coat.....

Another Sign I'm Getting Old

Tonight I took Mouth to his first concert: Sevendust, Three Days Grace and Avenged Sevenfold. Perhaps it's because it's not my type of music, perhaps it's because this is the first concert I've attended without indulging in beer (in fact, I don't think I've ever been to our local arena without a big ol' cup of beer) but I'm spending most of the concert sitting here on my Blackberry. Facebook, Bravo tv blogs (gotta catch up with my housewives!), and blogging.

(Although I will admit I jammed to Three Days Grace. 'I Hate Everything About You' kicked ass!!!)

Good lord, it's already past my bedtime and the main act isn't even on yet.








Mouth and his friend August rocking out.

Maybe It's Because I'm Sick. Or Just Sick Of It All.

Mouth had a cold last week so it was no surprise that I woke yesterday with a scratchy throat (thanks a lot, kid!) However, I woke this morning completely miserable and have been in bed most of the day. At one point, I quickly checked my email on the BB and found this (names have been obscured to protect petty people):

"Hi Mrs. Shute,

Zane got a checkmark today from Mrs. M******* for talking back. He was talking with another boy while she was addressing the class and she politely asked him to move to another table. He replied, "Why, I don't want to move." She asked him again to move and he said something else (I don't remember what was said the second time.)

Also, when we came back to class we had a new seating chart and he complained to me that he didn't want to sit with the other two students that I put him with. I spoke to him about him questioning my decisions and why I or Mrs. M******* ask him to do something.

Have you seen some of this attitude at home?

Mr. A***"

Seriously? SERIOUSLY. My response, which I magnified because I'm too tired to figure out how to make the email more clear:

What's Grosser Than Gross?

Drinking Red Bull right after you brush your teeth. I think I'd rather fall asleep at work.

Correction...Sort Of

I must correct myself about something I wrote last year because I recently saw a woman wearing a bluetooth. I was wrong to stereotype and think that only self-absorbed, tasteless, clueless schmuck men wore bluetooths. SORRY.

(However, it must be noted that Bluetooth woman was wearing camouflage overalls and had only about half of her teeth.)

I Have No Clue Who He Gets It From

Mouth attended a classmate's birthday pool party tonight. I asked him how it went.

Mouth: "It was fun but the girls were making fun of my moobs."

Me: "Aww. I'm sorry. What jerks."

Mouth: "It's okay. They'll all be starting their periods soon and their parents will be cowering in the corner, wielding pitchforks, as they scream, 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONCE A MONTH????"

God, I love this kid.

Here We Go!

Things have fallen into place, and I'm moving in 5 days. And I'm not talking I-live-in-an-apartment-alone-so-I'll-just-throw-everything-into-garbage-bags type of moving. I'm talking I-OWN-A-HOUSE-AND-I-NEED-BOXES-STAT type of moving. We're vacating to an apartment where I will pay no rent. Sounds good to me! However, it's four doors down from Mother. I would highly advise all of you to buy stock in Bogle RIGHT NOW. Because I will be drinking their chardonnay like a MOFO.

Love, Exciting And New

Mouth has been bugging me the last few days about asking a girl in his class to go to a movie during Spring Break next week.

Me: "Seriously? You're ten."

Mouth: "So? I'm ready."

This coming from a kid who has given flowers to two girls he had crushes on - the first being in third grade.

Tonight, he mustered the confidence to dial the numbers and hit 'Send' (which was only after ten or so aborted dials.)

Mouth: "Um hi, is Makayla there? This is her classmate, Zane. Okay....hi, Makayla? It's Zane. I was wondering if you'd like to see a movie with me this week. Um, okay."

And he puts the phone down.

Me: "Well?"

Mouth: "She said no and then hung up. What a little bitch!"

Me: "..........BUAHAHAHHAHAHHAAAA!!!!"

I totally couldn't punish him for cussing because it was so appropriate. Thankfully, he's fine with it. I had prepared him that she would probably say no - if not for lack of attraction then for the fact that she was ten years old and probably still thought boys had cooties. As he walked back to his room to play Xbox, he muttered "How rude!" over his shoulder.

I am SO SCREWED in the next few years, aren't I?

Another Reason To Sell The House

Mother: "What? You don't have any money again? But I just gave you $50 last week! What'd you spend it on???"

Me: "Drugs and strippers, Ma. Sorry I didn't get receipts."

Dreams

When I was twelve I found a book in my mom's dresser drawer about dreams. It claimed to interpret what dreams meant. I scanned it only to find obvious references: "If you dream you're in an elevator going up, that means your life is going to improve!" and "If you dream you're in an elevator going down, that means bad times will come upon you!" Or my fave: "If you dream your teeth are falling out, that means you feel guilty for gossiping!"

Well, hell. I've always had very vivid dreams - live and in color. In fact, I once dreamt I was Peter Brady and I was having sex with Jan (I know, that's totally f*cked up but DAMN men have it better than us women!)

I usually remember my dreams for a day or so, but sometimes they're brought back to me weeks or months later in a snippet of life that reminds me of it.

But there's one dream I will remember until the day I die: it occurred after I graduated from college with my BS. I was working a shit job at a bank, trying to find a "real" job. I couldn't make my rent and was so stressed - I mean Jesus, I owed so much on college tuition just to spend my life cashing checks???

And then I had The Dream. I was in my dad's swimming pool, and a tornado was coming. I ducked down into the pool and watched as the tornado passed overhead. I felt safe in the pool. Watching it pass was comforting. I swam to the deep end of the pool where my dad, who died when I was twelve, was sitting by the ladder. I climbed up the ladder and ruffled his hair. And I knew that hair. It was my son's.

I awoke sobbing, knowing my dad will never meet his doppelganger. I remembered the dream book - it said tornadoes meant turmoil. Perhaps this meant the turmoil is passing? Several days later I got The Call - the one with the big company that offered a big job. I interviewed, was offered the job, and was finally free of the turmoil.

However, five years later the turmoil was back. The Job kicked me and 20,000 other people to the curb. I couldn't find a job... a life. I was starting to think I would shrivel up and die unemployed. But I've dreamed the dream again.

I was in my mom's hometown, in a stadium, taking cover from a tornado. But this time, I had my son in my arms. We were wet from the rain, and he was crying. I reassured him it would be okay. I kissed my baby on the head and watched as the tornado passed overhead.

I woke and realized the significance of that dream. I sobbed, hoping and praying that the same good fortune would happen to me as before.

And I think it has. I've realized now I need to let go. Let go of my cute little house that is perfect for us because it alienated me from good neighbors and close kids. The constant repairs, leaky roof and fallen gutters left me frustrated. The lack of adult conversation turned myself inward. It was an independent move I will never regret but it ended up not being for the better. And I'm okay with that...because the storm has now passed.

I'm putting my home on the market and looking forward to my future.

New Shoes

I got new shoes. But not just any old shoes...DANSKOS. Allow me to explain:

My current job requires me to walk an average of 10 miles per shift (how am I not a size 2 escapes me as well.) When I was first hired, I tried on Dansko shoes because that's what everyone wore. I tried a pair on and, honestly, it felt like I was walking on bricks. I thought, "What the hell do people see in these??? They mustn't have the high arches that I have." I then looked at the price of $145 and thought, "Suckers." I promptly went to our local running shoe mecca and stood on a special computer scale to see where I distribute my weight (turns out it's on the outsides of my feet.) They recommended a nice, albeit expensive, running shoe for my type of foot.

Fast forward six months, and my running shoes cashed out about two months ago. Every shift brings shin splint pain and me begging for a foot rub from Mouth (who only gives them if he wants something.) So I caved. I went out today and bought a pair of Danskos (but I DID find a bargain at $110 a pair.)

I still had the "walking on bricks" image in my head but I tried them on anyway. Oh my. THANK YOU BABY JESUS! Apparently my sneakers had squished down so much that these bricks felt like heaven. I don't work again until Thursday but I'm totally wearing them around the house because they are so fab.

They remind me...of this one time...when I GOT AN EPIDURAL...

Goals Part 2

Thank you to the guy at the gas station who so kindly fronted me $3 when my starter checks wouldn't clear. I guess this is karma for this.

I Love My Job

"Patient noted to be speaking to hand sanitizer container."

Shocking, I Know

Some of you may be surprised to learn that I can actually be professional and stuff (read: function without being bitchy, snarky or foul mouthed.) It's not often - and not much fun - but it is what it is.

SO...below is my new website for Grown-Up Rags. Feel free to pass it along to anyone who may be able to employ me (or at least buy me a drink.)

Cheers!

http://www.scribeslikeus.com/

Thinking That.....

Although my old life paid the bills, I was utterly miserable living it. And with poverty comes the decision (i.e., the need) to get rid of everything and start anew. I've been trying to start anew for the last two years but was thwarted by Mouth (the brat-formerly-known-as "The Kid".) However, this is the first time it's needed as the bank will take everything I own if I don't jump ship now.

SO....here we go. We're gonna wing it this spring. Mouth is on board as well as Mother. We have no other options. But I'm ready. Been there, done that, moved to two states by myself. Although I didn't have the proverbial baggage that I have now, it'll be good for Mouth and Mother's social security will keep us afloat for a bit.

So grab on and enjoy the ride cause it's gonna get bumpy, folks!

And I'm looking forward to it.

Things I Miss Since I Went From Riches to Rags

I miss grocery shopping without worrying if I can afford one onion or two. I miss grabbing a bag of 'em and being good for a while.

I miss telling the doctor's office that my son and/or I have health insurance.

I miss buying a bottle of wine on my way home from a bad day at work.

I miss being able to escape to Chicago for a weekend for a childhood friend's wedding.

I miss paying my mortgage AND my car payment with one paycheck.

I miss seeing my gas tank on full.

I miss eating out because I just didn't feel like cooking.

I miss blowing my son's mind at Christmas.

I miss my old life.

Bumper Sticker Sighting

On a silver minivan:

"If You're Gonna Ride My Ass, At Least Pull My Hair"

Good one, Mom.

Phew!

Thank GAWD they didn't have this when I was 22 years old...

http://eater.com/archives/2011/01/17/scotch-whiskey-in-a-can-contains-eight-shots-of-whiskey.php

Thinking That......

My month-long free Encore subscription is allowing me to take a second look at "classics". And I do NOT understand the 90s fascination with Geena Davis. She's pale, has an overbite and really bad hair. How the hell did she get such good roles? She must have quite the sparkling personality (read: Easy. Or a witch.)

Maybe I'm being too harsh. This is prolly coming from my not being gainfully employed. And my three years with braces. My mom could have saved a TON of money if we'd known my underbite could have furthered my career.

Hell, maybe if I sold my flat iron and quit wearing my retainer I could be a SUPERSTAR!!!! *smelling hands from armpits*

Randomly Heard

"I can't hear or see you very well. Can you come over here and take the Helen Keller out of my job? Thanks, hon."

Good News, Bad News

Email exchange:

The Kid's teacher: "Hi, Ms. Shute. Zane won our classroom spelling bee today so he will represent our class in the school-wide spelling bee. But unfortunately, he was suspended from recess because he was teasing some girls on the way to PE by calling them drug dealers."

Me: "Great! And...great."

Thinking That......

I need to invent a device much like a canine barking shock collar, but for kids. Every time the brat mouths off he gets a BZZT! Not only would I make millions but I could finally get off my Wellbutrin.

And kick my drinking habit.