Life Lesson #12: Being sick sucks. Period.

Stalkers, I apologize, I'm sure you have been going through detox since I haven't posted something new in quite some time. I'm sure your weekend was full of dark, dreary days and you wondered how your life was going to go on if I didn't post soon. Never fear, today's the day! New post.
Memorial Day weekend sucked, it wasn't supposed to as my cousin was graduating high school so relatives were going to be in town but it sucked nonetheless. I got horribly sick this weekend. (I'm okay now, thanks for your empathy.) I wasn't just sick one day or I didn't just have the flu or eat something bad, I had a slight migraine Friday that got progressively worse as the weekend went on. Have you ever had a migraine? If no, you are one lucky son of a bitch. If you aren't sure, than you haven't. Trust me, you'd know if you had had one.
Basically, it feels as if someone is squeezing your brain, twisting it inside your skull, and the only way you think you can relieve this pressure is to have someone-ANYONE-drill burr holes into your head. The pressure gets so bad that your eyes start to play tricks on you; your vision blurs, you start seeing double, you get motion-sick simply from moving your eyes. This makes you sick to your stomach which makes you puke your guts out which, of course, makes your migraine 10x worse, starting the vicious cycle all over. A "good" migraine will paralyze you, will have you lying in bed for days, unable to move because even the slightest movement makes the pressure pound. It's terrible and, in my opinion, worse than giving birth because at the end of labor you at least have a baby whereas at the end of a migraine you just have a toilet to clean and work to catch up on.
So that's what overtook me this weekend. By last night, I was a big glob of nothingness. Thankfully, I was at my parents' for the Holiday so they could watch after Gus. I, foolishly, thought it was the perfect situation. I could lie peacefully and die while they had some one-on-one time with Gus. Boy was I wrong. Apparently, I should have been pushing through the pain, at least according to my mother.
She chose to tell me this last night while I was curled up in pain. If I had been physically capable, I would have struck her. Where does she get off telling me how to parent? And why would I push through this horrible pain if there was someone, actually TWO someones there to watch Gus? This woman found the gall to give ME parenting advice. This is the same woman who "pushed through" her own pain by sipping whiskey or scotch when I was growing up. I seriously don't get her and don't get where she gets her nerve. The woman is delusional.
She was already on my bad list because she chewed me out IN FRONT OF GUS for not paying a bill on time. How did she know I was late? Because she went through my bank account! She claimed this was due to her "concern" for me. BULL! How does this not sound crazy in her own mind? I just don't get it! What sounds right about going through your 25 yr old daughter's bank account and telling her what's wrong with her finances? What sounds right about telling your 25 yr old daughter what's wrong with her parenting? What sounds right about demeaning your 25 yr old daughter in front of her child? Again, had I been physically able, I would've taken the Crazy Lady out.
She keeps telling me she doesn't believe in "pills" that she's a "naturalist". I'm starting to think that's her problem. Maybe if the woman popped a pill now and than she wouldn't be so bat shit crazy. *deep sigh* I swear, I should get some sort of award for making it this far with her.
$1000 says my migraines would be 1000x better if she wasn't so insane.

Life Lesson #88: Children's cartoons don't make any sense.

Fortunately, where I live we are not directly affected by the horrific tornadoes that have been sweeping through the country. We are dealing with flooding, however, and with more rain coming this weekend most people in my area are spending the days and nights bagging sand as well as helping out neighbors. Since the whole country is talking about death, destruction and that crazy ass "Pastor" is preaching about the end of the world (it was supposed to be last weekend, now it's October? WTF), I thought I'd take a pause from the cause and discuss something completely different. Children's cartoons.

Before I had Gus, I had never really thought too much about children's cartoons except when I had been a nanny and all I thought was, Wow that Dora is a BITCH. Why is she always yelling at me in Spanish? Why does she have to repeatedly ask me questions she clearly knows the answers to? And why is her monkey wearing goulashes but no other clothes?
What I remembered of cartoons was the Looney Toon gang and let's face it, they weren't all that great. I always loved the Muppets, though. Cartoons were more popular when I was in elementary school: Rugrats, Doug, Ren & Stimpy, Rocko's Modern Life, Daria...I wasn't allowed to watch any of them but Rugrats and Doug, which was fine with me because, really, who doesn't love Doug Funny and Porkchop?

So when Gus started watching cartoons in the morning, I was shocked at how ridiculous they are. Let's start with the classic Curious George by H.A. and Margaret Rey. I'm sure everyone's read the stories if you haven't seen the cartoons. How stupid is this Man in the Yellow Hat? SERIOUSLY DUDE! One, you have a pet monkey, which, let's face it, sounds really kinky and perverted. A pet monkey isn't cool unless you're Jack Sparrow and even he hates that damn monkey. Two, you are constantly leaving this monkey alone even though every time you do he gets into trouble. You're an idiot. Plus, what's with the people, including you, understanding what this monkey says?! Who are you kidding? And would it kill you to change your outfit once and a while? Plus, it's rude to wear a hat inside. Ass.
Next, let's go to another classic, Mickey Mouse. These days Mickey has a Clubhouse where his pals help him every day. It's not a bad show but I don't get Mickey and his gang. What Walt was on when he created them is beyond me (and don't even get me started on Fantasia...) Mickey wears shorts but no top. Donald wears a top but no bottoms  yet (as Chandler Bing pointed out) w hen he comes out of the shower he's always wearing a towel. Goofy, WHAT ARE YOU? And why does a mouse have a pet dog? How come the mice and ducks get to talk but the dog doesn't? Seems a little political to me.

Of course there's other cartoons out there: Spongebob Square Pants, Phineas & Ferb, Handy Manny, Go Deigo Go, Olivia, Babar, The Cat in the Hat...Not one of them makes sense. The "educational" ones as the kids questions through the TV and try to teach the kids a new language, most commonly Spanish. The ones on PBS and Disney are 100x better than the ones featured on Nickelodeon such as Spongebob, Phineas & Ferb and Chowder. Those dont' even pretend to be educational and, I swear, are the opposite, making kids dumber as the seconds progress.

Regardless, most children's cartoon shows are better than the children's shows that involve people. The Wiggles, Imagination Movers, Barney...they are even stranger and involve singing at LOUD levels in extremely annoying voices. *sigh* Basically kids' shows these days suck.

What I need is to get Sesame Street, the original, on DVD along with Doug, Rugrats, Reading Rainbow, Smurfs (although watch that show as an adult...trip-py), Yogi Bear, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Jetsons, Flintstones, Captain Planet (NOW THAT WAS A GREAT SHOW!)...those were quality shows! Although, to be fair, the kids who watched those are now making the crap that's on TV. Really, what is this world coming to?

Everyone has a favorite cartoon. I just hope that Gus's is one that doesn't drive me to insanity or give me serious migraines. Don't get the wrong idea, it's not like he watches a ton of TV but he has to be distracted in the morning while I get ready. If you are still shaking your head at me than I'd like you to try getting ready in the morning while holding a 26lb toddler. Go on, I triple dog dare you.

I hope you enjoyed our little tangent from reality. I know I did...in fact, I think it's time that Gus and I watched the Jetsons Meet the Flintstones. It's gonna be a good night.

Life Lesson #29: TV shows aren't real and can't last forever. *sigh*

It was a sad and dark day in my life when Seinfeld aired it's last episode. However, syndication is a powerful tool and, thus, Festivus lives on. Plus, with the creation of TV on DVD's as well as DVR and NetFlix, shows like FRIENDS and The West Wing can go on forever and ever. Still, when something tragic happens, it is hard to deal with.
I don't know if you have heard the terrible news, and I hate to be the first to break it to you if you haven't, but Det. Elliot Stabler is leaving Law & Order: SVU. I will wait while you gasp, swear and finally slip into a slight coma. He and Det. Olivia Benson have been on the show since it's creation in 1999. I don't understand what's going on, why he's leaving. Really, he's just being selfish. How can he leave Olivia? We've seen ADAs come and go but those two have always been together. They're like PB&J, hot fudge and ice cream, gin and tonic, my mother and insanity, you can't have one without the other.
To make matters worse, it appears that Liv won't be hanging around long either. Though, the longer I think about it, the better it seems. To have Olivia without Elliot will just seem wrong, much like having Dwight without Michael Scott. I'm sure it's exactly what soldiers experience when they lose a limb. Yes, that's right, I just compared Michael Scott and Elliot Stabler to soldiers' amputated limbs, deal with it, I know I can't.
To add salt to the wound (who came up with that expression anyway? Was there seriously some idiot who was like, you know what this gaping wound needs? Salt! I bet that'll clear it right up!), there's talk that Jennifer Love Hewitt will replace Olivia. Seriously? Seriously! I know what she did last summer and it wasn't anything close to acting.

This girl cannot act, cannot sing and can barely model (see above photo). She wasn't convincing in any teen flick she was in! Now that's just sad. How on Earth can she take over as an SVU detective? If I was a victim and she was questioning me, I'd look at her and say, "Really? This is what NYPD has to offer me? Yeah, my perp is definitely getting away." (That's right, I'm down with the SVU slang.) So who do I suggest? (Other than myself, obviously.) Well, let's start with people who can actually act. What about Tina Majorino? (She was in Napoleon Dynamite) She was recently on BONES and did a fantastic job. Or Jennifer Morrison? She was Dr. Cameron on House. Clearly, she can act and play serious roles.
There's also the gaping hole left by the gorgeous, rugged Det. Elliot Stabler. Who's going to fill those shoes? (Why do we always go with shoes? Why not pants? Or shirt? Or holster? What's with the foot fetish?) There's always Matthew Perry who still remains unemployed but talented. Joshua Molina is extremely talented but may be over qualified.
Let's face it, this isn't Bewitched, people are going to notice the switch (Darrin, Samantha's husband on Bewitched, was replaced in the second season and most viewers didn't even notice. How sad.) and the replacements will never be the same as the originals.

Of course, there's always the USA Network and their reliable SVU marathons on Tuesdays and most Sundays. Syndication at it's best. Elliot and Olivia will forever live on. But how will I? Okay, now that's just sad.

LIfe Lesson #8: It is the little things that matter most...and it is the little things that will drive you the most insane.

Have you ever noticed that people are always talking about the "little things"? Think they are trying to compensate for something? Why are people always talking about the little things? Hell, if something big happened to me, say I won an Oscar (I predict Best Actress in 2020), I'd be telling EVERYONE about that, probably carrying it around like Kramer does his Tony. (If you don't know who Kramer is, you should get off my blog because you aren't cool enough to read what I have to write.)
Why shouldn't people talk about the big things? Why shouldn't we go after the big things in life? "Be happy with the small things, they are what matter most." Screw that! Granted, Gus was small at one point but he's growing daily, at what point is he too big to be what matters most? Okay, you're probably rolling your eyes, sipping your double shot Caramel Machiatto with Skim Milk (as if that will make up for all the caramel you're consuming) thinking, "Well, someone's taking this clique pretty literal, isn't she?" Well, Miss Snotty Pants, or Mr. Snooty Pants, let me tell you where this is coming from...
Gus pooped in the toilet last night. Yes, that is right, he went right in the toilet.

I was one proud Mama, this was a first time. It was a very big deal and, in my gorgeous brown Come Hither eyes, everything my child does is a Big Deal. This got me thinking about the big things in life and why do we focus on the small things? The small things suck! It is always the small things that bug us the most-static electricity in our hair, food in our teeth, wedgies, the word you just can't think of, the person you can't place but you know you know them, that bitch who wronged you in 3rd grade-and when we mention them to others, they reply, "Oh, that's just a little thing, let it go." MAKE UP YOUR MIND! Cherish the little things, let them go, WTF.
I think the problem is, people focus on size too much. Before we venture further in this discussion, let's get one thing out in the open, SIZE DOES MATTER. Yes, of course it also matters what you can do with it, you also can't do a whole lot if you don't have much to work with. Okay, now that THAT is out of the way. I think people need to decide what matters to them and what doesn't. If you want to chalk it up to size, fine, but you don't have to. Say, for instance, you don't like the color blue, than go with, "Oh that's just a blue thing, let it go." Or go with the animal approach, "Oh that's a field mouse, you don't want to hang onto that." (Which is true in the literal and figurative sense, field mice have diseases, don't keep them. Gross.) See what I mean? We could start a whole new trend here. Of course, until it catches on, people will look at you strange and judge you but really, let's be honest, everyone already does that anyway, at least now you'll know why.

Life Lesson #13: If you screw up, have the balls to admit it.

At some point in everyone's life they come across the following situation: girl has cheated on boy, boy does not know, girl does not tell boy. The roles could be reversed but it doesn't matter, someone cheats in the relationship, the other person is clueless but everyone else in the whole frickin' town knows about it. For reasons no one understands, the boy (we'll stick with the first scenario for our discussion) is utterly clueless and blind to the fact that his skank of a girlfriend has slept around on him. Everyone is talking about it but no one choses to fill him in on it. Why is this? Why do people chose to remain silent?
Let's start with the skank. We can assume that she is remaining silent in hopes of salvaging her relationship and, if confronted, denying the cheating ever took place. Skank.
What about everyone else? Let's say the guy the skank cheated with? Is he obligated to say anything? I think that if he knew she was involved beforehand, he is just as guilty as she is. We all know not everyone is up front about their relationship status, especially if it could jeopardize potential booty. However, if he knows the skank has a boyfriend and goes ahead with the dirty, well he's just as disgusting as she is. He broke the Bro Code and don't doubt that there is a Ho Code, and ladies, we don't forgive as easily as guys.

But what about the rest of us? The gossip mongers who don't say anything but say everything? If you don't know the person who has been wronged, I think it's understandable that you remain mum on the subject but what if you're a friend? Do you say something? Anything? Consensus (and by that I mean the voices in my head) argue that you should mind your own business, that you are just fueling the fire and feeding the gossip mill. On the other hand, if it were me, I'd most definitely want to know...but I'd want to hear it from my lying cheating jackass of a significant other not from some random person. *sigh* It really is quite the conundrum (yet another dignified word).

The thing is, if you are the skank in question, you should have the balls to at least man up (or have the, I don't know, ovaries?) and admit the wrong you did. It's not easy, trust me, I've done it. Yes, I hate to ruin your view of me but I am sad to say I am not 100% perfect, I have cheated BUT I admitted it even though there was zero chance he'd find out. I just couldn't go through the relationship knowing there was this HUGE lie, what if we had gotten married? Would I have ever told him? I would have constantly been wondering if he had cheated on me and never told me. Maybe my problem is I care too much. Wait no that can't be it. Maybe the problem is skanks, in general, don't have a conscious (or know how to say no and keep their pants on).

So where does that leave us, the skank, her fellow skank and her innocent boyfriend? Basically it leaves everyone screwed...with the exception of the boyfriend. Everyone's going to get hurt and it's going to be a train wreck that you don't want to watch but you can't tear your eyes away from. The sad thing is, these train wrecks happen daily and there's always at least one casualty and the skanks? They are never among the grieving. I guess when you feel things with your thighs instead of your heart, you never have to worry about getting heart broken...just chaffing.

Life Lesson #16: Money doesn't buy happiness...but it does buy anti-depressants, which is basically the same thing.

Living in the pathetic excuse for a city that I do, we have a limited selection for radio stations. That being said, this morning I was listening to John Tesh and he posed the question, "What's the difference between you and a millionaire?" Really, John Tesh? Well, that's easy. The millionaire makes much more money, has a lot less worries and is getting laid a lot more often. What prize do I get for nailing that one? (That's what she said.)
I understand that millionaires don't have perfect lives. For instance, my great-uncle, who is a self-made multi-millionaire, is going through a divorce from his wife who has gone a little cuckoo. (At one point, she claimed he had the devil in him which is why he wanted to divorce her and if he had an exorcism, he would see the way and come back to her. You really can't argue with that.) I just don't like when people with money bitch and think that their problems are on level with my problems. You can't tell me that our problems are equal, you are not worrying about paying medical bills, where the money for your insurance is going to come from, whether or not you'll make rent, if you can afford to buy Brand Label or if you should go generic. If you have a serious medical condition, you can afford the doctors, the tests,the prescriptions. Yes, I feel bad if your marriage goes wrong but don't ask me to sympathize that you only got the house and not the house AND the yacht. Money doesn't buy happiness but it sure helps to medicate depression and to buy fun things to cope with the shitty things that happen in life. Any millionaire who says that they would have the same amount of happiness/sadness with less money has clearly never been poor or is clearly running for political office.
That being said, I know lots of people who don't have a lot of money who ARE happy. Take myself for instance, I don't have a lot of money, in fact, I don't make more than I spend in bills alone month to month. In order to get by, I have to pull from my savings from my tax refund. Does this depress me? Sure it does! It would depress anyone who has a concept of money but I don't let it get me down. What would be the point? Would it change the circumstances? Would it create more money in my bank account? If it would, I would be depressed more often in order to make a few more bucks but it doesn't change a damn thing. Instead, I spend a little more than I should and know that as long as I don't go overboard, it's okay. I like feeling good, I like buying Gus ginormous pointless stuffed animals that make him do his happy dance or a Cars book just to hear him say, "Nightning" (for Lightning McQueen) over and over. I like treating myself to a cup of Starbucks or pizza every now and then because it's not something I do frequently. It's these little things that keep me going in my poor, dreary life. You have to have these things otherwise you'll go insane, and probably because bitter and wacko like my mother.

Everyone has to find their own level of happiness. Some people need chocolate, some people need sex, some people (ahem Cocoa Von Hoffman) need bacon. But I've never come across a homeless person who was undeniably happy, I've never met a person living paycheck-to-paycheck saying this was the life they always wanted. Money doesn't buy love, it doesn't buy happiness but it helps with security, it helps to know that should something happen you'll be okay financially, it helps to know that you won't have to reassure your son that, no he was a very good boy this year, Santa isn't punishing him, it's just that Santa didn't have a very big budget this year.
I do know a few things about money. I know that when I die, I don't want to leave debts behind, that's just bad taste. I also know that I want to leave some money behind because that's the relative that everyone loves but I don't want to leave so much behind that people are wanting to off me in order to get to my money plus why save it for death when you can spend it in life? I also don't want to waste my life earning money. I want to earn it but I also want to enjoy it. I don't understand people who have all kinds of money but don't enjoy it. What's the point? If you aren't going to enjoy it than at least give it to me! I'll send you pictures of Europe and the sweet Villa in Florence you'll be buying me.

If I had money, what would I do with it? Easy, I'd have lots of Valentino and Christian Louboutin shoes to go next to my Kate Spade and Burberry purses that I'd wear when I'd travel to Italy, UK, Greece and Australia. I'd own season tickets to the Yankees and Packers. I'd have a library that would rival the best in the world.  I wouldn't have to check my bank account when I want to go shopping at Wal-Mart or need to go to the doctor. I wouldn't have to worry about governmental aid. I would buy everything in name brand, though I'd probably still shop sales because really, what woman can turn down a good sale? Most importantly, I'd be able to say to my son, "You can go to any college you want, don't worry about the money...just make sure it isn't Ohio State or Wisconsin. Those schools suck."

Life Lesson #11: It's your own fault if you expect a new trick from an old dog.

Okay so yes I have been on hiatus from here and I apologize. I plan on making it up to you...with a post dedicated to, yes you guessed it, my mother. Dun dun dun.
For as long as I can remember, my mom and I have not gotten along. I am sure that we used to, there are pictures of us when I was younger where we seemingly got along but I don't think we were ever that stereotypical Mom/Daughter that told each other everything, gossiped about boys, stayed up late baking, all of that Donna Reed nonsense. Instead, most of my childhood memories are, well, let's just say unpleasant when it comes to my mother.
I am my father's daughter and make no attempt to hide the fact that I am a Daddy's Girl. My dad and I have the same sense of humor, are both laid back and roll with the punches. How my mom and dad ever ended up together is beyond my realm of understanding. I'm assuming there was a large amount of alcohol involved and maybe my maternal grandfather gave my dad lots of goats...I don't know but they've been married for 30+ years now much to my dismay. I've been with the woman 25+ years and trust me, if I could've divorced her, I would've.
I really don't know why we don't get along. Oh wait, yeah I do. THE WOMAN IS INSANE. Seriously, certifiable. It is as if when you talk to her, the words/message get misconstrued in the air and reformed when they reach her mind. She hears something completely different than what you said to her or doesn't her it all. She is also the worst at making decisions. I used to think it was because she had no backbone but now I believe it's because she doesn't want to be blamed for making the "wrong" decision. This enables her to say, "See! I told you we should've gone with ...." Really? Actually you didn't make a decision either way so you should really shut your mouth when you're talking to me.
Okay deeps breaths.

For the past, God I don't know, twelve or so years, my mom has been 'working on herself'. She believes that she has come a long way from the person she used to be back in the '90s. To be fair, she has improved-she isn't as quick to anger (it takes her 30 seconds now instead of 3), she thinks before she acts (she has a 'rational' explanation for all she does) and she doesn't use brute force to get her way (she also uses manipulation, tears, passive aggression AND brute force). So you see, she really has come a long way. Perhaps, the most annoying part of this process is that fact that she constantly and consistently asks/tells me "See, I'm getting better, aren't I?" I stopped answering a long time ago, instead I just kind of purse my lips and look at her, trying to telepathically tell her, You are so full of shit and insane to boot.
Perhaps one of the most frustrating parts of our relationship is my father and other outsiders. Everyone claims that my mother will never change, that she will only get worse with age, that I need to accept how she is and just deal with it and her. I refuse to accept that bullshit sandwich. My mother is 53 years old, she is not senile and for all intents and purposes is healthy. There is no reason she cannot change. There is no reason why she cannot open her eyes and see how racist she is, a product of growing up in a small Middle of Nowhere town. She cannot see how blind she is to the ways of the world, a product of not traveling the country, the world, of not seeing what is right in front of her face. There is no reason for her to treat my father like an imbecile, for her to blame everything on him, for her to start the day angry and end the day even angrier. There is no reason why she cannot cut the freaking cord that she thinks is tying herself to me, why she cannot realize that I am grown up, still need to grow up but need to do it on my own. I used to think that she couldn't let my brother and myself go because she needed someone to take care of but now I think it's because she needs to control someone. She's frickin' insane.
Can you tell I have a few pent up resentments where she is concerned?

What brought on this latest red rage was a beautiful event, as it usually is. Gus said his first sentence today. As a single mom, I don't have another parent to share these types of moments with. Thankfully, my parents are deepy invovled in Gus's life so I often called them as well as Princess Buttercup and Schnookems to share the glorious news (in the past Buttercup has often been here witness these events, I don't want to discuss how depressed I am that she won't be here anymore for them. Damn you Wesley! This is not as I wished!) I called my father to tell him about Gus's wonderful sentence and he showed the joy I needed recepricated. He asked questions, was thrilled, laughed in appreciation, said how cool he thought it was. He also suggested that I call my mother. I did, she did not respond in kind. She was more concerned with outside factors, barely asked a question then moved on. I quickly responded with, "Ya know, Mom, this was a very big event that I was very excited about. You don't seem to care about it at all so I'm going to go." CLICK. Of course, added Bitch afterwards but she didn't hear it.
I partially blame myself. Afterwards, I am frustrated but hear myself saying, "She does this EVERYTIME." Well, dude, if she does this everytime, why do you expect anything different? The definition of insanity is doing the same action over and over but expecting different results. I think it's that I hold out hope that one day my mom will get it, one day she will realize what I need from her. Yes, I have told her in plain, blunt terms what I need from her. It's not as if I'm functioning with some broken heart and just wishing she would miraculously change. I've told the woman, screamed at her, pleaded with her to realize how psychotic she is. It doesn't work.
The woman doesn't get it. I don't know if she's missing something in her head or in her heart that makes her fail to see what others need from her. She constantly takes the wind out of peoples' sails and is increasingly selfish. I want to say she doesn't mean to be, that she sincerely doesn't' see these things, even after they are pointed out to her. I believe she has a severe case of the Tin Man, she just doens't have a heart.

Or she could have a case of Scarecrow and not have a brain...maybe it's just a little of both. Anyone know how to get to Oz?

Life Lesson # 18: Somedays are just better spent in bed. Period.

Do you ever wake up and your ass is so numb you know you didn't move at all during the night? No? Just me? Okay well that's the kind of  night I had last night.
I haven't slept through the night since I was in third grade and woke up to the sound of my parents having sex. Seriously the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my life. It wasn't just a one time incident, it happened repeatedly over the years, screwing me up more and more each time. Ever since, I've been terrified of sleeping soundly, afraid I'll wake up to God knows what. I probably could've just said I had a terrifying experience when I was a child but really, I think that story has brought us all closer together.
So for whatever reason, I have basically been tired since 1995, very rarely do I sleep for longer than a two hour stretch and I usually wake up every time I move or wiggle. Yes, you should feel sorry for me. I'm thinking of actually having a telethon in my name...When I woke up this morning with a sore ass due to not moving, I was pretty jazzed (no, I didn't sleep through the night) and knew that today needed to be spent recuperating.
Everyone recuperates from different things in different ways. Some mothers need time away from their kids with their friends at a bar, some husbands need time away from their wives with their mistresses (no, I do not approve), some people need time away from work with an SVU marathon and a large glass of chocolate milk. I need time away from everyone, lying on my couch, catching up on the sleep I have been deprived of. If I don't, I will go insane, fall asleep wherever, become a mean bitch as opposed to a funny bitch and am not a good mom. Today I am going to recuperate. It's going to be a good day.
I'm also craving pickles and beef jerky...if I was getting laid I'd think I was pregnant, instead I think I'm just getting fat or PMS'ing, either way, it sucks. I'm really craving salt lately, I don't get it and I don't like it. People never really crave things they should, I mean have you ever heard someone go, "OOO! I could really go for some fiber right now!" No, because fiber is gross and if you do ever hear someone say that, 1-make sure you are not downwind from them and 2-defriend them because they are ODD.
Hmm nap...now THAT sounds delicious.

Life Lesson #37: If you screw someone, bend over because Karma's a bitch.

Some days you come across a piece of information that just makes you pause and go, "Wow." Today just as I wrapping up my long and surprisingly semi-productive day at work, a friend got on Facebook and started a conversation with: I have a very very interesting story to tell you.
I hate when people give you a lead-in like that and don't follow through on it. If someone says to me, "I have to ask you a question but I don't want to ask you now, I'm eating and I don't want that visual" (that's an actual direct quote, by the way, from Bear this weekend) I go NUTS because he proceeds to wait 45 minutes before asking me the question. Really? Why not just wait to mention the question until you want to ask it?! If I tell you, "OHMYGOD I heard the best bit of gossip about your boyfriend! But I don't want to say anything in case it might not be true," then proceed to leave you hanging, I believe you have the right to kick my ass. Thankfully, I was not left to wonder on this particular story...
Jezebel is a girl that I have worked with for the past two years, have been friends with approximately 6 months of those two years and have disliked for 6 months of those two years. She was supposed to co-host Princess Buttercup's local bachelorette party with me, ditched at the last minute leaving me with the full bill as well as no excuse or message telling me she wasn't showing up. She also has a, ahem, tendency to sleep around, mainly with people we work with. She also has a severe case of Verbal Diarrhea. Buttercup and I have yet to make a final decision on whether or not she's vindictive or just plain stupid. I believe it's a lethal combination of both. For some reason I, or any woman I know, have yet to define why men like her. She is not ugly nor is she attractive. She has a nice body but not overwhelming. She's not bright, not a good conversationalist, has a mouth like a pirate and what's the point of sleeping with someone who's slept with all of your buddies? Oooo maybe she's sort of a hazing lay, now as f*ed up as that sounds that would actually make more sense then men being attracted to her.

Any way, apparently Jezebel slept with Beardsley (see Character page) during a work trip. Not only was this inappropriate because it was a work function but Jezebel is also in a serious, committed relationship with a WONDERFUL kind hearted guy who is somehow clueless to her skanky ways. He doesn't believe in sex before marriage, she doesn't believe in giving up sex. How her boyfriend doesn't know what's going on is beyond me, maybe he thinks he can save her? Maybe he's so wrapped up in his job that he doesn't notice? Well it's going to be hard to ignore it now because Jezebel and Beardsley were sloppy, they got caught and now every one's talking. *insert evil laugh here*

The reason I am taking such, yes I admit, pleasure in their f*ing f* up is that both have screwed me over in the past and once on the same thing. Back in the day when Jezebel and I were friends (before I knew what a skank she was), she pushed me towards Beardsley, saying that she thought we'd make a great couple. At this point, I knew that they had already slept together but it was when they were both single and they both had agreed to only be bed buddies so I didn't see anything wrong with it, especially since I had a major crush on Beardsley. One night, not long after first discussing my crush with Jezebel, we all went out together and I ended up in Beardsley's bed. We slept together but not after talking about how we'd take things slow due to Gus and our work. Yeah, only a week later all communication between the two of us stopped thanks to Beardsley. To this day I don't know what happened although he came up with some bullshit excuse THREE MONTHS later, yup the jackass left me hanging for three months, just walked by my office with his head hung low and making no eye contact. I was heart broken. We had become good friends, he was a highlight of my day, breaking my ennui with humor and lots of laughs. Suddenly, I had no friend, no one to text late at night and no reason why. Jackass. I had told TWO people about that night and only two people, Jezebel and Princess Buttercup. I know it wasn't Princess Buttercup who spilled but apparently someone did or at least that was the excuse Beardsley was using. He's a "private man" who doesn't "like his personal affairs aired at work". I assumed than and still do that it was Jezebel who blabbed to people about the two of us. Of course, I could never prove it and things have only proceeded to get more and more awkward between Beardsley and myself. I have to wonder if they weren't still sleeping together than as they are apparently now.
Skank. Jackass.
So yes, I take pleasure in the fact that they are both complete MORONS and they got caught with their pants down. So much for your private life, eh Jackass?

Life Lesson #5: Distance and Time Will Have No Effect On True Friendships

You're probably thinking to yourself, Geez, this Ms. Humble never works. I bet she's a model and doesn't need to which is why she has all this time to blog, and you'd be partially right. One, I work but not really. My job is uber boring and makes me dumber by the second since I have nothing to do. I'm a fairly intelligent person in all honesty so when I have a job that does not test my intellect or let me even demonstrate that I have an IQ that is higher than a 10 year old, I struggle to care and stay focused. Two, I SHOULD be a model, I'd be phenomenal. I watch ANTM, I know how to "work the eyes".

Either way, I find myself with two and a half hours to kill since Cocoa Von Hoffman has the day off and I have no one to correspond with (Cocoa is a co-worker of mine and exchange emails on a daily basis. See Character page).
So let's pick up where we left off...with Bear being the ass that he is. Despite one friend not pulling through for me, ALL of my girlfriends did and it was a pretty glorious weekend. (Every time you read the word glorious, I want you to picture Frank from 'Old School' when he says, 'I saw Blue, and it was glorious.' If you cant' do that, stop reading, go watch Old School and become cooler than you currently are.)
Like I said, I got into town and had my reunion with Pooper and Schnookems. We ate at this great restaurant in the Warehouse District in Minneapolis called Bar La Grassa. We had lobster and egg bruschetta, fresh tuna, crab ravioli...YUM. It was perfect, the food and the company, and it gave us the chance to catch up since we hadn't seen each other since November 2009. We do Skype, email, Facebook, call, text but it's not the same as everyone knows. If you don't you either A: have never had a friend live out of town or B: don't have any friends. Either way, you're weird.
The next day Schnookems and I went shopping. She took me to this AMAZING boutique in St. Paul called Primp. Check it out if you're ever in the area. This was followed by a trip to the Mall of America where I proceeded to spend way too much money. Gus got sunglasses, Nike sandals and this awesome fedora from H&M:

After shopping, it was time for the main event, The Bachelorette Party. While Princess Buttercup and I were great friends, I didn't know anyone else who was going to be there besides her sister, Sookie. I was slightly hesitant because not only did I not know these girls but I knew I already didn't like the girl who was throwing the party, Drizzella, Princess Buttercup's soon-to-be sister-in-law and former BFF and current Fri-enemy. She's insane, selfish, spoiled, Type A and drives Princess Buttercup nuts. I disliked her on principle alone. (Side Note: The name Drizzella comes from Disney's Cinderella, she's one of the evil step-sisters)

 The night was actually a blast. I loved Buttercup's college friends, especially The Duchess of Gak. If I hadn't already met Cocoa Von Hoffman, I would believe that Gak is my female soul mate but pretty sure it's Cocoa, but I digress (yet another word that makes me sound dignified). We went dancing at The Shout House where we also had "dinner" and drinks. You know what's a lot of fun? Looking at others dance and judging them. There were a lot of cute outfits but way more ugly ones. For instance, it is not wise to wear black tights with khakis shorts. You look like a moron. If you are over the age of 30, rethink that bachelorette party or at least make sure the guests are your age and not 50+. Also,  if you get called up on stage to dance and act crazy, don't just stand there doing the White Man's Dance. You suck. Oh and if you get crazy sloppy drunk, be prepared to be That Girl at the bar and to have others laugh at you, pointing and staring are allowed. By 9:30, I was ready to call it a night. Apparently, motherhood has made me old and boring. I just wanted to crawl into the comfy Marriott bed and sleep. I had been up until 1 the night before plus I had to drive back home on Sunday. I could hear the bed calling to me! Seducing me with it's softness, which is weird because usually I'm seduced by hardness...*sigh* Instead I took one for the team (which team? I don't know, I hear the Twins could use some help) and headed to Bootleggers with the rest of the party. This was actually a trippy experience as it used to be a club called 3 Degrees which stood for the Father, Son & Holy Ghost. I had been there when I was 18 with my Lutheran church group. It was slightly different now but still a very cool bar. The DJ kicked ass but they brought on this live "band", can a two person group be called a band?, that sucked. They looked like Peter, Paul & Mary's offspring and sang like they were dying goats. It was atrocious. By 11:30, five of the nine of us were ready to call it a night, including Buttercup, Sookie, Gak and myself. (We sound like we'd make a really cool gang of superheros, I'd clearly be the leader)

It was during this alone time that the four of us may have had the most fun. We were just bullshitting, half asleep, them drunk, and laughing our asses off. I wish I had our conversation on tape because it was glorious.

The following morning there was the planned Bridal Shower at Drizzella's House which I was opting out of in favor of brunch with Ette. Originally, I was going to take off immediately afterwards in order to hurry home to Gus and de-sugar-ify him. Instead, I was going to wait for Buttercup so she could ride back with me and pick up Dora's car. 11:30 was when the Shower was supposed to start...by 1 they hadn't even started. I wanted to bitch slap Drizzella. What the hell kind of shower was she running? Was she that hung over that she couldn't properly function? Hell, just give Buttercup the gifts, wrap up some food and let her, AND ME, be on our merry way! What a whore.

In the meantime, Ette and I had brunch at Hell's Kitchen, yet another must-stop in Minneapolis. This was followed by a return trip to MOA since I hadn't gotten Gus a guilty gift yet. Here's the deal: I knew my parents would spoil him which would, in turn, make him love them more especially since I had "abandoned" him. My plan was to get him a great gift (and no kid cares about clothes and hats) in order to purchase my way back into his favorite spot in his heart. I am not above bribery. Clearly. I ended up going to the Disney Store and purchasing a Nemo beach towel (that was actually a great buy, it was on sale), a ginormous stuffed Nemo and a ginormous stuffed Mickey Mouse.

Oh yeah, I am definitely forever the favorite. Grandma ain't got nothing on me!

By the time I wasn't finished eating, shopping, killing more time in MOA by just walking around, Drizzella STILL hadn't started the shower, it was now personal and War. The 11:30AM Bridal Shower didn't end until 2PM. I wanted to spit on her when I picked up Buttercup. No one keeps me away from my son...I didn't take revenge then, I feel the wedding reception will be better when she's completely toasty, I'm not, and she's in a dress so that when she "trips" it'll be more embarrassing. I'm telling you, you should never mess with a mother.

So morals of the weekend? Lessons? Points?

One: Boys suck.

Two: Friends are gloriously wonderful.

Three: Don't come between a mother seeing her child.

Four: The wedding is going to be one to remember...unless you're Drizzella.

Life Lesson #21: While you should never lower your standards, sometimes it's best to lower your expectations.

I normally won't post more than once a day but since I'm currently playing catch up you are going to be spoiled...
This past weekend was a weekend that I had been looking forward to for weeks, so excited that I was skipping in hallways. Princess Buttercup was having her bachelorette party in Minneapolis which was PERFECT (for me, though not for her because it meant that she had to see her dreaded evil soon-to-be sister-in-law) because it meant that I would be able to see Schnookems, Pooper and Ette, all of whom are currently living in Minneapolis or the suburbs. Additionally, I would be able to see Bear and Melman, two of my best guy friends from college. I was beyond excited.

Before leaving, I had to make the obvious arrangements for Gus since apparently it is frowned upon to leave your kid alone with nothing but a bag of Twizzlers and Pork Rhine's (if you haven't picked up on the sarcasm, quit reading because if you think I would actually do that, you need help). My parents don't live in the same town I do but they don't live far, either, so they were more than happy to take him for three days.
*Before we go any further, let me fill you in on my parents. My dad is witty (I get my humor from his side of the family), handsome, smart in the Maths, brought me up with music like Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly and sports. Everyone loves my dad. My mom is, well, hard to describe. She is smart in finances and the arts...and is certifiably crazy, never wrong, takes what you say as the complete opposite of what you meant, indecisive and knows what is the best for everyone. She also believes it is okay to feed my son pumpkin pie whenever he wants (It's a vegetable!) and chooses to ignore any and all parenting rules I have. We don't get along.
Gus took off Thursday around suppertime leaving me the night to pack and prep to leave bright and early Friday morning. He literally shoved me out of the car as I was trying to kiss him good-bye. Someone knew he was about to be spoiled.
I could barely contain my excitement for the weekend as I headed towards the Twin Cities. While I couldn't wait to see my girlfriends, I have to admit I was most excited to see Bear. Bear is the One Who Got Away. We met Freshman year in college and have been great friends ever since though we never dated. Of course, I didn't realize how completely in love I was until I moved away. Seriously, it's a Lifetime Movie waiting to happen. I've been trying to think who should play me but no one comes to mind so I'll just play myself and Mark Salling can play Bear. (Whether or not they resemble each other doesn't matter, all that matters is that in the movie, there are plenty of sex scenes between us)

ANYWAY, I asked Bear to be my date to Princess Buttercup's wedding. He said yes as long as he could get off work. I was so jacked, like the picture of that little girl I posted, she got nothing on me. My mind was reeling with all the possibilities, plus Friday was spent driving to the cities and what else is there to do in the car but daydream about how gloriously wonderful our reunion would be, the love that would be in the air at the wedding, the hot sex that would ensue...

Spoiler Alert: None of that happened and none of that will be happening.Boys suck, they really truly suck. I haven't asked any lesbians but I'm guessing that girls can suck at life too but since I'm straight, I'm just going with the guys on this one.

I got into town, had a glorious reunion with Schnookems and Pooper who were kind enough to understand that I wanted to go and see Bear. Bear and I had plans to have brunch on Saturday but since he didnt' have to work until late Friday night, I saw no reason why I shouldn't hurry my ass over there to start our reunion early, which I promptly did. Enter Melman (if you want to picture Melman like this, that's fine, it's how I usually picture him:

Melman and I were introduced through Bear and immediately started, not dating, just drunkenly hooking up and not even drunkenly having sex, just making out. Either way, it only lasted one Fall Semester before we put that aside and just went on being friends. Yes, it can actually happen. We stayed in touch even though we haven't seen each other since 2007. He now lives with Bear and was one helluva cock blocker all Friday night. I wasn't too mad at him, no one can ever get too mad at Melman, and it WAS great to see him after all those years but I really just wanted some alone time with Bear. Yeah, never really happened. However, I did find out that he is not going to the wedding (I don't believe in hanging onto the 30% chance that he'll make it) and Melman was joining us for brunch the following day. I never was able to figure out if Melman invited himself or if Bear was like, "Dude, you have to come and be the third wheel so she doesn't think it's a date or anything." Either way, I was not happy.

We, ALL THREE OF US, agreed to meet the next day for a late lunch (apparently Bear thought brunch meant 2 in the afternoon, boys are stupid) at 1:30 since Bear bar tends and wouldn't get home until 4AM. Yeah, pretty sure only Melman showed up as Bear couldn't drag his ass out of bed. Pretty much the only way the weekend could have gone worse is if I had showed up to find Bear in bed with someone or had him ignore me completely. Hell, at least I got to see him and he gave me the chance to be snubbed. Yeah, no, I'm pissed, screw looking on the bright side of things. I hope he chokes on his buffalo wings.

Life Lesson #2: Do everything in your power to ensure that you are the best you you can be.

About a week ago my friend, Princess Buttercup, said I'm the funniest person she's ever met and that I should write a blog in order to share my intellectual wit with the world. Okay, those may not have been her exact words but that's what I chose to hear. I started this wonderfully funny blog called "The Best Advice I Never Got" and had three posts done along with my pages...than blogger got a bug up it's ass and was down for the weekend and had to delete it. I was not thrilled. This is it's sequel, I suppose. I find it tedius and redundant since I have already done the basics but, alas, here I go again (I like the word alas, I feel it makes me sound dignified, now all I need is a sweet hat.)

The purpose of this blog is not only to make you laugh, preferrably at other people, but to enlighten you with Life Lessons. While today's is more of the serious nature, not all will be. You should do your best to write them down, memorize them and follow them religiously. Some are based on common sense (which isn't, apparently, as common as you would think), others are based on observation (Life Lesson #20: If you are running to STAY in shape, you can run shirtless. If you are running to GET in shape, cover it up.) and still others are based on listening to my friends and family. I also hope this blog will make you realize how sane your family is in comparison to mine and Wesley's (more on him later) and how easy your life is since you don't have to deal with my mother. While you may have your doubts that my stories are true, sadly, they are all true though no one will be mentioned by their real names unless they are a celebrity (see Characters page).
Today is May 18, the third year anniversary of my sobriety. It's kind of a serious topic for my first post but it's a HUGE deal so I have to write about it. I used to be a lush, drank a lot, not often but when I did I didn't have just one or two drinks, more like one or two bottles of wine or a bottle of gin or a case of beer. You get my meaning. I would black out every time I drank, I guess that's not the norm???, and would be hung-over for at least 24 hours afterwards. Oh, yeah, and I was a major slut while I was drunk. In my opinion there are the following types of drunks: assholes, sluts, funs, criers, lovers and stoners. Assholes, well that should be pretty clear, they become mean when they drink. Sluts should also be clear. Funs are the people who drink and are wonderful to be around, sometimes Funs can turn into the others when they imbide too much. Criers are the people who start bawling when they drink *see high school girls or sorority sister. Lovers are the people who just LOVE you, know matter if you just met them, they tend to get annoying fast. Stoners are the ones who seem to zone out once they drink making people believe they are drugged up instead of merely drunk. I'm sure everyone can relate and yes, you are one of the above when drunk. Anyway, I was a slut and never in control of my drink. This led to numerous problems. Three years ago I stopped drinking, one of the best decisions I ever made. I'm still fun, duh I AM awesome, I'm much smarter, richer and a way better person, as hard as it is to believe I wasn't always THIS awesome but I have always been this humble.
In all seriousness, if I hadn't stopped drinking, I would either be in jail, off the grid or probably addicted to something else. I know for sure I wouldn't be able to be the Mom I am to Gus if I was drinking. Gus is the most important thing in my life and I want to do everything I can to ensure that I am the best mother possible for him, which means staying sober and getting a college degree. Okay, I'm done with that, on to the fun topics!
Yesterday Gus and I stayed home together even though it was a Tuesday. His daycare called late Sunday night to say that her husband as having emergency surgery Monday morning so daycare would be cancelled. I was okay with this as 1: She obviously coudn't help it and 2: I knew I where I would find a sitter. I immediately called up TweedleDum and asked her if she could watch Gus for the day, she was one part of his two part babysitting team that had been watching him all winter when I needed a sitter but TweedleDee was out of town so she'd be flying solo. She said of course and I was good to go. If I could go back and do it over, I would. From 8AM until 5PM she didn't change his diaper once (he's 18 months old), didn't feed him (I saw him over lunch and gave him some Fruit Loops as a snack, she had agreed to make him mac and cheese but apparently never did), didn't give him anything to drink, didn't let him nap and while she did take him to the Zoo, she let him drag his blankie on the ground than put it back into this mouth. You know the cliche "seeing red"? Yeah, that's how mad I was. I have never wanted to phsyically harm someone so much in my life, at the very least I wanted to reduce her to tears. I also now know what the term "Mother Bear" means, because that's how protective I felt of Gus.

(Side Note: Why, when I google search images of mother bear protecting cub, do pictures of a drunk Amy Winehouse show up? WTH?) I took him home, feed him THREE helpings of mac and cheese, gave him a bath and he was asleep in my arms an hour before normal. He was exhausted and kept looking at me as if to say, "What were you thinking, leaving me with that brainless twit?" (Does anyone say Twit anymore?) I felt horrible. Since daycare was still out of commission yesterday, I stayed home with him, spoiled him rotten, let him take a 4 hour nap and eat his favorite snacks. I think he has recovered fully but I'm guessing next time he sees TweedleDum he'll go screaming in the other way.
While we were hanging out yesterday, Gus and I went shopping for a gift for Cocoa Von Hoffman's daughter who is turning three today. I haven't been toy shopping for a little girl in a LONG time as I only have a nephew and one friend with a child has a son. Have you been down the toy section lately? It's like walking down Vegas Strip! Seriously, what are toy companies thinking making dolls like these?

I knew about the Bratz dolls, which are basically promoting prostitution, but now these? Do they come with their own sets of STDs and needles? What ever happened to the good old fashioned Barbie dolls? Yes, I know I sound old and yes I know Barbie wasn't proportional or whatever and that supposedly she had a bad imfluence on girls' self-images but what the hell are these dolls promoting? Stay out of the sun? Don't eat? Wear tiny clothes and platform shoes? At least make some dolls with fashion sense.

At least I won't have to worry about these things with Gus. He currently loves to play with blocks and balls. He also enjoys my cell phone and pots and pans. I can handle those. Maybe I'll stroll him down the girls' aisle when he's a little older and show him dolls and say, "Now these are the tramps that you want to stay away from..."