Life Lesson #73: If you are going to say stupid things, prepare to be mocked. Relentlessly.

Minions, I recently went back to college. This is my, um, hold on, let me think, fourth? go around at a degree. That's not the point here. The point is, kids these days are stupid. I don't mean they can't solve a differential equation (I still can't do that, even after spending every extra hour with my Calculus teacher that I could) or that they can't spell (which, I'm sure they can't given that they have always had spell check), what I'm talking about is common sense.

Now, I've met the people I graduated with, I've had slightly intellectual conversations with people a generation or two above me and I'm not claiming they are geniuses-far from it. However, the more I listen to these "youngsters" of today, I SWEAR I was never that stupid.

Maybe, just maybe, I have become so intelligent that I have surpassed America's average level of common sense. Sorry, I couldn't even type that with a straight face.

I honestly just don't get it. Kids-and by kids I mean people ranging 18-21 years old-are saying ridiculous things. For example:
Chemistry Professor: Now, I know the President has been fired, if you haven't heard about that than you should get on the Internet because it's everywhere, but it won't effect you-the student-at all.
18 Year Old Girl: Wait, like, the President of the University?
I seriously hope this girl is majoring in something that doesn't mean life or death, because if she's a nursing major, her patients are screwed.
Nurse: Wait, like, put my mouth on HIS? But he's like ancient and I'm like not even drunk...yet.

Back in my day-yes I know I sound like an old timer when really, I'm just peeking-people would look at idiots and say, "Think before you speak." What scares me is these modern day morons ARE thinking before they speak and in the small recesses of their minds, they think they are having intelligent thoughts or, at the very least, average thoughts that need to be shared with others! Baffling really.

If someone asks a question, first, think to yourself, do I know the answer? If no, than shut up. If yes, move on, is my answer right? Does it make sense? Can I coherently express this answer out loud? Can I speak in such a way that others will understand? Am I good looking enough that I don't even need to talk? If you REALLY think you have the answer, if your thought/argument is really worth sharing, if you can actually talk to others without them laughing at you or rolling their eyes or staring at your goods, than please, share. BUT be prepared, because even pretty people get mocked.

And that old adage, "There's no such thing as a stupid question"? Yeah, that was from a few generations ago, it no longer applies to today's youth. Yes, there is such a thing as a stupid question, so please, think at lease twice before you speak and when in doubt, don't speak at all. Remember, it's better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Not following? Okay, it's better to be thought pretty and dumb than ugly and stupid. That should be plain enough for you.

Moron.

Life Lesson #55: Never, under any circumstances, go into your parents' bedroom.

Even if there is a trail of blood leading to your parents' bedroom and your mom is screaming, "Help! Save me!" Do NOT enter your parents' bedroom.
Even if there is a trail of cinnamon rolls and you hear Ryan Reynolds screaming, "I'm willing and ready!" Do NOT enter your parents' bedroom (although do your best to lure Ryan Reynolds out with those cinnamon rolls.).

We were never a family that climbed into our parents' bed on a Saturday or Sunday morning for tickle fights, pillow fights, a morning reading of the comics or late night movies. When there was a storm, our parents came to our bedrooms to make sure we were okay. My parents' bedroom was always a place that was off-limits without actually being off-limits.
When I was in just a youngin', an innocent little pig tailed girl in the third grade, the worst possible thing happened: I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my parents'-pausing for a moment to puke-having sex. Even at that young age, I somehow had a vague idea of what was going on and rushed from my bed (my room was right next to their's) to the bathroom to puke. Seriously.

For some reason, probably because the Fates hate me, my parents hate me, I don't know but this pattern was repeated. Frequently. To the point that I was terrified to go to sleep at night. I woke at the tiniest sound, would quickly flick on a light so my parents would know I was awake and lay in my bed, my heart pounding out of my ribs. These, um, episodes, scarred me so badly that I have no slept through the night since third grade, at least when I've been under my parents' roof. It's been 15 years, I'm slightly tired.
Moving back to my parents' house, I wasn't overly concerned with it. They are, after all, in their 50s, I would be sleeping downstairs and Gus would be sleeping upstairs in my old room. Yes, this is the part of the story where disaster strikes. I went into my parents' room earlier this week to look for a book my mom had borrowed from me months ago. While looking for it on her nightstand, I glanced at my dad's nightstand to see what he was reading...and instead saw a bottle of KY Jelly. VOMIT. Than last night, while I was attempting to fall asleep, I heard them going at it. Fifteen years later and it still gives me the willies and makes me puke in my mouth.

As horrific as the whole 15 year experience has been, I definitely don't want my son going through anything remotely close to it. Yes, he's not even 2 yet but I'm not taking any risks, which is why Gus will now be sleeping in my room with me, downstairs. Of course, my parents are curious as to the move so tonight, in approximately 30 minutes, we will be discussing it. I can only imagine how glorious that conversation will be:

Me: You two are having too loud of sex. You have been since I was in the third grade. It scarred me so bad that I have been in therapy since 4th grade and I don't want to take any risks with my son so his room is now downstairs. Dessert anyone?

Dear God, my family is royally f*ed up.

Life Lesson #40: Why fly when getting there is half the fun.

Well minions, you will never believe it but Cruella caved and let Gus and I go visit Buttercup! Yes, LET US go, wow, apparently I'm back in middle school. *sigh* Regardless, WE GOT TO GO! It was a complete blast. Prepare to be amazed...in degrees....I wouldn't want you to die of shock and awe so I will retell our awesome tale in sections.

First off, have you ever driven a great distance with a toddler? (By great distance, I mean over an hour.) No?  Well, it's really something you should avoid at all costs. Seriously. I knew it was going to be rough on Gus but I figured we'd break up the ELEVEN HOUR drive by driving 8 hours on Monday, spend the night at Pooper's, than drive the remaining three hours on Tuesday. I thought it was a fantastic idea and it was. It worked out perfectly. Gus was, in all seriousness, a complete angel on the drive to Pooper's. (Okay, I just googled images for angelic toddler boy and you know what came up? Anthony frickin' Hopkins from Silence of the Lambs. W.T.F. We will skip a picture and instead, use your imagination like people back in the 80's were forced to.)

When we got to Pooper's city, we went shopping right away because I figured it be nice for Gus to have some stimulation, get out of the car, I could walk and hopefully, regain feeling in my ass. Plus, Pooper and Schnookems had plans until about 7 so we had some time to kill as we had left at 5:30 in the morning. Don't ask. Anyway, we got to the mall and Gus was over-whelmed by the amount of people.

I didn't get much shopping down though I did pick up some sweet threads (yes, I think I am a late 90's sitcom) for Gus from H&M. My boy is going to be stylin'. Basically a Kingston Rossdale but with curly caramel locks. But I digress.

After two hours, Gus decided he was done shopping. Schnookems and Pooper were still at the lake so what could a girl do? I went to see Melman and Bear. :)

Ever since Bear bailed on me for Buttercup's wedding, we haven't really been talking, wait, let's re-write, we haven't talked at all. However, I talk to Melman on a regular basis and I told him I would be in town so we agreed to get together (I had to drop off a movie for him anyway) and he could finally meet Gus.

Apparently, Melman felt no need to let Bear in on the fact that I would be in town, which I found interesting given the fact that they are roommates and Gus and I would be stopping over at their place. *Food for thought* (Re-cap: Schnookems believes Melman to be in love with me.) We got there and these two 25 year old men were playing Halo. WOW. Gus and I played with his Cars cars until he warmed up to the guys, and they put down their own toys.

THEY WERE GREAT WITH GUS. :) I was so happy to see two of my guy friends interacting with my son. Bear got him giggling; Melman put on Pixar shorts for him than Cars because he knows Gus loves that movie. It seriously warmed my heart. I don't know why but seeing Bear and Mel with Gus, well, each time he smiled at one of them, I fell a little bit more in love with each of them.

We spent about an hour with the boys before heading over to Pooper's. It was wonderful seeing the girls again. Schnookems was able to see Gus and I back in June, albeit briefly, but Pooper hadn't seen him since he was a month old. It was great. (Warning: Everything about this trip was great so be prepared to read that sentence a lot) Pooper cooked fantastic shrimp tacos-Gus had mac and cheese from Noodles & Company. Yum. Unfortunately, we didn't get a lot of time to talk as Gus had to go to sleep but wouldn't unless I was lying with him and it took forever as he was super hyper due to the long ass drive and being over-tired. I fell asleep immediately.

That was the last I saw of Schnookems but I got a chance to chat with Pooper in the morning. Once again she cooked for us and Gus got to spend more time with her. I'm starting to think he's over-coming his shy phase....maybe...probably not...

We took off before lunch, poor Gus, not knowing that he still had to drive 3 hours. I felt bad but I just focused on one thing---I was about to spend nearly a whole week with Buttercup! With two and a half states between my mother and me. :)

Life Lesson #31: A house is not a home.

I miss my home. Bad. Like really super duper bad. Like Lindsey Lohan misses insanity or her virginity or her cocaine. When I lived alond, albeit in a studio apartment that resembled more of a dorm room than anything else, I was lonely but still loved my alone time. When I moved into my one bedroom apartment, I was still lonely but was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Gus so really loved my alone time because I knew it wasn't going to be long before my alone time was forever gone. When I moved into my two bedroom apartment, I felt as if Gus and I were finally home. We each had our own bedroom, everything had it's own place, I decorated as much as my landlord would allow, I hung pictures, I got to know my neighbors. It was great.

I didn't think I would miss my little apartment this much. Since I graduate high school, I have lived in a dorm suite (with Schookems and Pooper), an apartment (with Ette), a house in New York, a house in Texas, and the three above mentioned apartments. I've gotten around. I really didn't think it'd be that big of a deal but what I didn't factor in was that this last place was my first real grown-up home, it was where my son took his first steps, it was where he first called me Mama, where he locked himself in the bathroom and nearly gave me a heart attack, where I threw my best friend her bachelorette party. That apartment held lots of memories and almost all of them good. I didn't have any drunken messes there, I didn't have any embarassing moments, I didn't watch my grandfather die than hold my grandmother while she cried when he did. That apartment was chalk full of happy memories and only happy memories. It's no wonder I miss it.

Life Lesson #51: You can't always get what you want...

...but if you try sometimes, you just might find, my mother's a bitch.

I received some wonderful news today: Buttercup misses me horribly, to the point that she can barely get herself out of bed. She is, in fact, just lying in her bathrobe, eating ice cream straight out of the container, her hair greased with natural oils due to the fact that she hasn't showered in days, crying while she sings "All by myself, don't want to be, all by myself anymore..."

While I usually don't take such perverse pleasure in others pain, especially those I love dearly, it was nice to know that our long-distance relationship wasn't just one sided. We decided that we needed to see each other, and soon, but of course I have no money to get to her and she doesn't have the time to travel the distance. My darling Buttercup and her Wesley graciously offered to help get Gus and me to them. I jumped/leaped/skipped/Samba'd at the chance to visit.

I was even more thrilled because it meant that I could stopped on the way and spend some time with Schnookems, Pooper and Ette. Plus, if I'm lucky, I may even get a chance to introduce Gus to Bear and Melman. Than I would continue on my way to see Buttercup and Wesley, spend about 4 days with them, head back and spend a night with my brother and Lucy than go home. The next day Gus would start daycare than a week later my school would start. I would have an entire week to get all of my moving/unpacking done while Gus adjusted to daycare. Perfect plan, right? I mean, what could be wrong with it?

Queue My Mother, Mrs. Fun Hater herself. After 25+ years I have learned a thing or two so I, of course, went to my father first with my glorious idea. He was all for it, thought it was wonderful and it couldn't have been better timing. Than I dropped the bomb on the She-Devil. Before I could even finish the sentence she was stabbing it to death, saying it would put too much wear and tear on the car (I drive a car they own). First, she was against the idea because it would cost too much money than I told her about Wesley and Buttercup's offer at which point she told me no because of the car thing.

What sucks is that she has this hold over me because of the car plus I live with them. She wants me to stay here because the house is a mess full of my crap that hasn't been put away. (Here's why: Gus is moving into my old room, I'm moving into my parents' room and my parents' are moving into my brother's old room. Don't ask why, it's stupid and complicated.) I have been itching to redecorate but my parents' haven't moved ANY of their shit so I can't do anything. She wants me to stay to help them move their stuff? Than move my stuff and Gus's stuff. I don't see why they can't move their own things than, why Gus is in daycare during the day, I get everything done, I'll have a whole week. It's really ridiculous, to put it nicely and G-Rated.

I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FRIENDS! I want to get away! I want to have adult conversations! I want to get out of this state! Away from my parents!

Ugh. If I were 6 I would throw a fit.
If I were 13 I would slam my door and blast Alanis Morrisette.
If I were 18 I would pierce something and get wasted.
But I'm 25...so I will blog about it, bitch to my friends and pray my father can convince her to not suck at life.

Life Lesson #47: Never trust a person with a mullet, unless his name is AC Slater.

Everyone has seen someone with a mullet. Business in the front, party in the back, disgusting all around. Most people associate Billy Ray Cyrus with the mullet:

(Yes, children, Miley's dad used to be this un-cool)

I, however, associate the one and only Albert Clifford Slater with the horrid hair-do:

AC was a good guy, sweet boyfriend despite his douche bag girlfriend, good athlete and a lover of animals, especially lizards. His mullet wasn't all that awful, just a bunch of curly locks that got a little out of control and you couldn't really blame him for his hair-do since he had a stylist who purposely did that to him on a daily basis. Despite his dimples and sweetness, the hair-do didn't do the man justice and was still hard to swallow (that's what she said) yet he is the ONLY person in the history of mullets to not look absolutely ridiculous, God awful, trailer trash disgusting when wearing it.
Whenever you see someone with a mullet, you 1) are probably in a Wal-Mart and 2) shudder in self-disgust. You also find yourself mesmerize by the fact that this person was brave enough to wear this monstrosity out of the house, into the public, at the risk of stoning and humiliation. You may (if you are me or Cocoa Von Hoffman) follow them discreetly with your cell phone camera and attempt to take a picture of them to send to your friends for a chuckle.
Today, I encountered a mullet face on, looked it right in it's FROSTED TIPPED bangs and thought, "Oh! This is where Joe Dirt went to die!"



I had to interview a daycare today for Gus. The lady who runs the home daycare seriously had a frosted tipped mullet. It wasn't just a regular mullet. It was shaved on the side, brunette with gold bangs and gold ends. It also had roughly a pound of hair gel in it to make it spiky in all the right places. I was very proud of myself for not immediately turning around and running out of there screaming. Instead, I sat there and interviewed her while she told me that she lives with a "roommate" named Kari (I have no problem with lesbians, just admit it, don't tell me you are 35 years old with a 16 year old son and live with another woman who's just your roommate.) She also told me that there is no meal plan for the kids, oftentimes the parents bring food for the kids at the beginning of each day, if I wanted Gus fed her food (and God knows what it would be), it'd be an extra three dollars a day. The tv is constantly on and even though some kids don't like it, she makes them sit down and watch it for 'quiet time'. When she started throwing a big, bouncy beach ball type basketball off of the two 2 yr old girls' heads "this is what we do for fun!", I got out of there.
No, Gus will not be going there.
Yes, I should have turned right around after spotting the mullet.
Go ahead, call me superficial, but I will never trust someone with a mullet....unless his name is AC Slater.

Life Lesson #13: Distance does not make the heart grow fonder-it just plain sucks and there's nothing good about it.

I hate being far away from people. Wait, let me re-phrase. I hate being far away from people that I ENJOY. It sucks. I once had a long distance relationship, I lived in Texas and he lived in Jersey. It lasted approximately 2 months long distance and every day sucked. Yes, I like my alone time but I like being with friends! There's a reason they are my friends, I enjoy their company and being around them! If I didn't, they'd be my relatives.

(yes, that is an actual picture of some of my relatives' feet.)

The point is distance sucks. There is no silver lining to distance. It does not make you appreciate the person or the relationship more, it just makes you bitter because you aren't surrounded by the people who get you the most, the ones you have the shared jokes with, the secrets, the way of speaking without actually speaking. The people who when you are with them, you are part of something special and when you are without them, people tend to think you are a completely different kind of "special".

I desperately miss my friends. I miss having conversations about world issues as opposed to the trivial on-goings of small-town life. No, I do not care about Irene's granddaughter's boyfriend's sister's kid. I want to talk about the debt ceiling and health care and the NFL lockout and MLB trades. I want to talk about how to make an Alex the Lion cake from scratch for Gus's birthday and what he should be for Halloween. I want to spend an afternoon rocking out to the Rent Soundtrack while shopping for clothes that I don't need and won't buy. I want to get dolled up and have a fancy dinner in a city, an actual city not a town, and put on heels and be hit on by guys who have showered within the past 12 hours and have a college degree. I want to stay in and do homemade mani-pedis while watching romantic comedies and eating calories that don't matter because I'm laughing so hard.

I want to reminisce about the old times and know that the future will be even better because I'll have my friends with me. I want to talk about my goals and have them tell me if they are foolish or not. I want to hear them say they believe in me, that everything will be okay because, well, because it just has to be. I want them to call me on my bullshit and whip me into shape. I. Want. My. Friends.

(Kim Anderson Photo)

Growing up you made friends easily, I don't care who you were, friends were easier to come by because you had more opportunities to make them-school, daycare, sports, neighborhoods, YMCA's, etc-and you weren't so jaded, you believed everyone wanted to be your friend and that everyone made a good friend. If you got in a fight with one, there was always someone else. Than the years went by and friends became harder to make, cliques became impenetrable and people weren't as trustworthy. Now, as an adult, when you make a friend, you cling to them, knowing how rare and precious they are.

I know how valuable my friends are, I know how great they are. I know they would do anything for me as I would do for them. I know no matter how far apart life may take us, we will remain friends (feel free to gag/puke here)  but I also know that we are at our best when we are together, that friendships are strongest when they are in the same city. No matter how great your intentions are, life happens and so does distancce and sometimes life is a bitch and that bitch can tear you away from your best friends.

In the meantime, I suppose I will just sit in self-pity, Skype as often as possible and play numerous games of catch with Gus until he tires of me. Everyone needs friends, though, I mean, even House has Wilson.