Like most Sunday's I woke up this morning read a bit, drank a bit of coffee and ate some Pringles. I made a half hearted stab at the laundry and housework and all of a sudden it was afternoon and I was still in my PJ's.
Then Asshat #1 dropped in with Jackson. We talked for a while and I offered to make dinner for him.
Then I went and got dressed because he's company now and I figured the least I could do was put on a bra. He went off to his former bedroom to spend some time with it's current occupant - #2. I cooked dinner and then got an email from my mom.
"We're coming for a visit"
Then friends of #2 started dropping in which is how I wound up with a house full of adults and adult sized people and two dogs.
I'm fucking exhausted now.
Showing posts with label The Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Family. Show all posts
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Sunday, February 17, 2013
A Well Spent Day Off
After months of working 6 days a week, I finally took a day off. It happened to fall on the weekend The Polish Guy (formerly the boyfriend, but he wanted his own cool pseudonym) and I have our kids.
I could have spent my day off cleaning, but since I would have just wound up napping and fucking around on the internet anyway, I chose to treat it like a bonus day. I asked my favorite redhead (the step-daughter) if she wanted to go check out Value Village.
Favorite Redhead: I love that place.
The Bonus Son*: Can we go too? I want to go and get some art pens.
So I shoveled some of the crap out of my car and four teenagers crammed themselves into my little Cavalier.
Me: You guys get any bigger and I'm going to look like I'm driving around a clown car full of clowns.
This is how I verbalize my love - they get it.
Value Village is an entertaining store to browse once you get past the funk of old clothing and old people wearing Brut cologne.
We browsed the books and I found five - sometimes my psyche needs a real book in my hand. Three of them are part of a YA series, because I'm a sucker for a series. If it's well written I don't care who the target audience is, I'll read it.
Proof that women are not kind to each other.
That's right - six weeks to get skinnier than all your friends.
Then housewares for my next score.
A plug in wall clock that still works. Children of the seventies will remember these, along with those colors - Harvest Gold and Coppertone Brown. Otherwise known as baby shit yellow and poo brown. The plug in kitchen wall clock has gone the way of the party-line. Thankfully so have the colors along with their ugly step-sister Avocado Green.
We hit the handbags. Usually I don't see a damn thing there but cheap cracked vinyl purses. Which if I want a purse that smells that bad, I think I can throw in an extra 5.99 and let it aquire my own purse aroma. But I found a really nice beaded evening bag.
It's one of those things every woman needs at least once in her life, but if you're only going to need it once why buy new.
We discovered the reason Snuffleupagus is such a sad fellow.
Who knew the poor guy lost his Grandmother to hunters and she was turned into a wall hanging. I apologize for the blur, I was feeling so sad for poor poor Mr. Snuffleupagus my hands were shaky. There's some feathers on there so they probably got one of Big Birds relatives too.
The Redhead found a score of her own in belts & scarves.
A belt made of pop-can tabs. She passed on the feather boa, but we had to get the belt. In her words it's sick.
We checked out the clothing a little bit, and giggled like little kids over the skanky lingerie. We're both in agreement that used underwear is a secondhand line that should never be crossed.
Toss in two picture frames because you can't beat $1.99 and a ceramic elephant because he was cute and fifty bucks later we were out of there.
Today will be my avoid housework by fucking around on the internet and napping day. I might get my new clock hung though. Probably in the bedroom where it can join my telephone clock.
*The Bonus Son is the stepson - he's a great kid and as much a pleasure to be around as his sister, so that's why he's the bonus. One of life's unexpected gifts.
I could have spent my day off cleaning, but since I would have just wound up napping and fucking around on the internet anyway, I chose to treat it like a bonus day. I asked my favorite redhead (the step-daughter) if she wanted to go check out Value Village.
Favorite Redhead: I love that place.
The Bonus Son*: Can we go too? I want to go and get some art pens.
So I shoveled some of the crap out of my car and four teenagers crammed themselves into my little Cavalier.
Me: You guys get any bigger and I'm going to look like I'm driving around a clown car full of clowns.
This is how I verbalize my love - they get it.
Value Village is an entertaining store to browse once you get past the funk of old clothing and old people wearing Brut cologne.
We browsed the books and I found five - sometimes my psyche needs a real book in my hand. Three of them are part of a YA series, because I'm a sucker for a series. If it's well written I don't care who the target audience is, I'll read it.
Proof that women are not kind to each other.
That's right - six weeks to get skinnier than all your friends.
Then housewares for my next score.
A plug in wall clock that still works. Children of the seventies will remember these, along with those colors - Harvest Gold and Coppertone Brown. Otherwise known as baby shit yellow and poo brown. The plug in kitchen wall clock has gone the way of the party-line. Thankfully so have the colors along with their ugly step-sister Avocado Green.
We hit the handbags. Usually I don't see a damn thing there but cheap cracked vinyl purses. Which if I want a purse that smells that bad, I think I can throw in an extra 5.99 and let it aquire my own purse aroma. But I found a really nice beaded evening bag.
It's one of those things every woman needs at least once in her life, but if you're only going to need it once why buy new.
We discovered the reason Snuffleupagus is such a sad fellow.
Who knew the poor guy lost his Grandmother to hunters and she was turned into a wall hanging. I apologize for the blur, I was feeling so sad for poor poor Mr. Snuffleupagus my hands were shaky. There's some feathers on there so they probably got one of Big Birds relatives too.
The Redhead found a score of her own in belts & scarves.
A belt made of pop-can tabs. She passed on the feather boa, but we had to get the belt. In her words it's sick.
We checked out the clothing a little bit, and giggled like little kids over the skanky lingerie. We're both in agreement that used underwear is a secondhand line that should never be crossed.
Toss in two picture frames because you can't beat $1.99 and a ceramic elephant because he was cute and fifty bucks later we were out of there.
Today will be my avoid housework by fucking around on the internet and napping day. I might get my new clock hung though. Probably in the bedroom where it can join my telephone clock.
*The Bonus Son is the stepson - he's a great kid and as much a pleasure to be around as his sister, so that's why he's the bonus. One of life's unexpected gifts.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Bloody Beef, My Tomato Hunk, And Men's Yoga Pants
I'm just back from New Years Day dinner at mom's. No, I'm not posting late - we had it today. She said it was because she was going out for New Years Eve. I think it was just because she was tired of everyone showing up hungover. Myself? Sunday and New Years Day are pretty much the same thing.
Ever go to a big family dinner and wish there was no dinner, just the nibbles before hand? Yeah, me too. Every time.
The only thing missing here is my tomato hunk. Sadly, he was incapable of standing on his own two feet.
The other thing that was missing? My mom saying Oh my head! I shouldn't have had that second glass of wine right before the potatoes needed to be mashed. But she did say my Uncle wanted the riper roast beef. We knew what she meant though - the pink roast beef instead of the bleeding roast beef. Even though my Uncle would really prefer the brown roast beef. He likes it a bit deader than the rest of them.
I wish the baby talk had been missing.
It is exciting there will be another baby in the family. I'm even more excited that it isn't coming from one of the Asshats.
I'm not so excited that I want to hear about it endlessly. We have only one or two family dinners to go until the baby is born. Then we'll get to hear about poopy diapers and leaky boobs.
This would be a good year to go to a tropical island for Christmas.
At least her husband offered up some funny moments for our entertainment.
The Baby Daddy: I remember once when I was little I was rolling a penny around in my mouth while I was watching Cinderella and all of a sudden whoops, it was gone.
My Brother: You might want to change that to watching Transformers when you tell the story.
The Baby Daddy: But it wasn't. It was Cinderella. She had just lost her slipper.
A little later I overheard that he wanted to have a co-ed baby shower. I told him that his buddies would hate him forever and permanently revoke his man card. I'm female and I never willingly attend a baby shower. I'm sure most - as in all - men are grateful that only women have to suffer through these things.
I also promptly told my cousin that two showers in under 12 months was unacceptable.
Then the conversation turned to yoga pants. It started out baby related until The Baby Daddy said he wanted some. I've Googled Men's Yoga pants and google has finally made up for some of the scarring that Google Images has caused me in the past.
Oh yes, I could get into men in yoga pants. But only if they look like this, because you know if this ever trends it will be the 300 pound man wearing yoga pants sans underwear that we'll get to see at Walmart. Most likely there will be a hole somewhere in his super-sized yoga pants that gives us a peak at something he hasn't seen without a mirror for the past decade as well.
Ever go to a big family dinner and wish there was no dinner, just the nibbles before hand? Yeah, me too. Every time.
The only thing missing here is my tomato hunk. Sadly, he was incapable of standing on his own two feet.
The other thing that was missing? My mom saying Oh my head! I shouldn't have had that second glass of wine right before the potatoes needed to be mashed. But she did say my Uncle wanted the riper roast beef. We knew what she meant though - the pink roast beef instead of the bleeding roast beef. Even though my Uncle would really prefer the brown roast beef. He likes it a bit deader than the rest of them.
I wish the baby talk had been missing.
It is exciting there will be another baby in the family. I'm even more excited that it isn't coming from one of the Asshats.
I'm not so excited that I want to hear about it endlessly. We have only one or two family dinners to go until the baby is born. Then we'll get to hear about poopy diapers and leaky boobs.
This would be a good year to go to a tropical island for Christmas.
At least her husband offered up some funny moments for our entertainment.
The Baby Daddy: I remember once when I was little I was rolling a penny around in my mouth while I was watching Cinderella and all of a sudden whoops, it was gone.
My Brother: You might want to change that to watching Transformers when you tell the story.
The Baby Daddy: But it wasn't. It was Cinderella. She had just lost her slipper.
A little later I overheard that he wanted to have a co-ed baby shower. I told him that his buddies would hate him forever and permanently revoke his man card. I'm female and I never willingly attend a baby shower. I'm sure most - as in all - men are grateful that only women have to suffer through these things.
I also promptly told my cousin that two showers in under 12 months was unacceptable.
Then the conversation turned to yoga pants. It started out baby related until The Baby Daddy said he wanted some. I've Googled Men's Yoga pants and google has finally made up for some of the scarring that Google Images has caused me in the past.
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Sunday, December 30, 2012
Mangoes And Poison Ivy - Who Knew?
I do NOT like mango. One time my mother handed me a piece of mango and said "here try this". I am positive it's the meanest thing she ever did to me.
I couldn't spit that shit out fast enough. In fact, I spit it out so fast I can't even tell you what the texture was like, but I can tell you about the taste. It was like having a mouth full of bad breath. Like that smell that was in the borrowed recorder you were forced to try and play in grade school music class, because sure as shit your mom wouldn't buy you your own. Something about 10 bucks being too much to spend on a musical instrument when it was obvious to all there wasn't an ounce of musical talent in me.
You can kind of understand why I don't buy these delicacies right? But I guess the oldest likes them and he bought himself a half dozen of these nasty bad breath tasting fruits.
He has eaten three of them. Then he broke out in a mysterious blistering rash on his lips.
Being enormously germophobic and having a new girlfriend - his first concern was cold sores. Really? I had always assumed he made her cover her mouth with a dental dam before he would kiss her.
If it were a case of cold sores - it would be the most epic herpes infection ever. We are talking the complete surface area of his lips covered in blisters.
Being also enormously hypochondriac - he researched this mystery rash. Surprisingly he hasn't concluded he is dying tomorrow, BUT he did find out that the same thing that causes the rash he gets prolifically when exposed to poison ivy is also in mango peel.
We have 3 mangoes left - anyone want some bad breath to eat?
I couldn't spit that shit out fast enough. In fact, I spit it out so fast I can't even tell you what the texture was like, but I can tell you about the taste. It was like having a mouth full of bad breath. Like that smell that was in the borrowed recorder you were forced to try and play in grade school music class, because sure as shit your mom wouldn't buy you your own. Something about 10 bucks being too much to spend on a musical instrument when it was obvious to all there wasn't an ounce of musical talent in me.
You can kind of understand why I don't buy these delicacies right? But I guess the oldest likes them and he bought himself a half dozen of these nasty bad breath tasting fruits.
He has eaten three of them. Then he broke out in a mysterious blistering rash on his lips.
Being enormously germophobic and having a new girlfriend - his first concern was cold sores. Really? I had always assumed he made her cover her mouth with a dental dam before he would kiss her.
If it were a case of cold sores - it would be the most epic herpes infection ever. We are talking the complete surface area of his lips covered in blisters.
Being also enormously hypochondriac - he researched this mystery rash. Surprisingly he hasn't concluded he is dying tomorrow, BUT he did find out that the same thing that causes the rash he gets prolifically when exposed to poison ivy is also in mango peel.
We have 3 mangoes left - anyone want some bad breath to eat?
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Saturday, December 29, 2012
Snow And Other Four Letter Words
I am so not a fan of snow. I mean sure it's fun if it happens on a Sunday and you can round up some kids to go sledding. It can be fun if you've got a snowmobile and you get to rip through some fields. Even Cross-Country skiing is a pleasurable activity.
The general everyday reality of it though? Meh, not so much.
Shoveling snow, with snot dripping down your face and sweat dripping into your ass crack whilst wheezing like an old tom cat? Meh, not so much.
Brushing snow off of your car, scraping ice or worse trying to thaw out frozen doors? Meh, not so much.
I get that winter comes just like spring, summer and fall. I get that I only have to tolerate it for a little while. But this year, it's different. It's worse.
It's worse because I have a young adult driving now. Driving a pickup truck - because that is the second least practical winter vehicle you can own. The first being a motorcycle.
He's an aggressive driver, and not particularly experienced. He's already totaled one truck - and that was in perfect driving conditions.
We also don't see a lot of snow, so a little bit of snow on the road provides a lot of drivers that are inexperienced with driving in it. Now combine an aggressive, inexperienced driver with a bunch of overly cautious drivers.
I can't wait for spring.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
A Mostly Perfect Day
Today was my idea of a perfect day. I slept until 10am, and twelve hours later I am still in my pajamas.
All of the guy's new boxers, socks, and sleep pants are washed. The youngest even folded his own shit. Too bad he's not the biggest contributor to the laundry.
For future reference all boxers recieved as presents will be photographed and tagged with the owners name. Then I will print a poster of whose drawers are whose. It's the only way I'll ever be able to keep the effing things straight.
We had snow here. On Christmas Eve and today. I haven't moved my car since Christmas Eve and the window was open. Good news though - there was still a towel on the seat from the last time it rained and the window was down. So dry ass tomorrow = life is good! Plus the car starts so bonus all the way around.
I shoveled off the deck - in my pajamas. Never underestimate the insulative properties of a padded push up bra. Shovelling snow without one brings new meaning to colder than a witch's tit. Socks might have been good too. Possibly boots - only those are still out on the deck from the last time I cut the grass and now they are full of snow.
Also worth noting - sitting on the computer all day does not make for efficient circulation. So gloves would have been handy to have but even though my guys are older, like all kids they lose my shit which makes me lose my shit.
On the topic of losing my shit I also went to the shed to get an extension cord for my block heater.
Who the eff wound up my extension cord like that? It sure wasn't me because I always do nice big loops so I don't wind up with a twisty tangly pile of garbage. My eldest has a long way to go before I'm granting the official Mom Approved Guy Card. Just saying.
I even managed to capture this syrupy sweet aawh moment.
All of the guy's new boxers, socks, and sleep pants are washed. The youngest even folded his own shit. Too bad he's not the biggest contributor to the laundry.
For future reference all boxers recieved as presents will be photographed and tagged with the owners name. Then I will print a poster of whose drawers are whose. It's the only way I'll ever be able to keep the effing things straight.
We had snow here. On Christmas Eve and today. I haven't moved my car since Christmas Eve and the window was open. Good news though - there was still a towel on the seat from the last time it rained and the window was down. So dry ass tomorrow = life is good! Plus the car starts so bonus all the way around.
I shoveled off the deck - in my pajamas. Never underestimate the insulative properties of a padded push up bra. Shovelling snow without one brings new meaning to colder than a witch's tit. Socks might have been good too. Possibly boots - only those are still out on the deck from the last time I cut the grass and now they are full of snow.
Also worth noting - sitting on the computer all day does not make for efficient circulation. So gloves would have been handy to have but even though my guys are older, like all kids they lose my shit which makes me lose my shit.
On the topic of losing my shit I also went to the shed to get an extension cord for my block heater.
Who the eff wound up my extension cord like that? It sure wasn't me because I always do nice big loops so I don't wind up with a twisty tangly pile of garbage. My eldest has a long way to go before I'm granting the official Mom Approved Guy Card. Just saying.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Hey! Can I Get Some Quiet Here?
It's probably wrong of me to admit this but....
I can't wait until the guys leave to go to their Dad's for Christmas. I know I'm a horrible person. I mean who wants to be alone on Christmas Day. Me. Not for the whole day, just a little bit of it.
I get so few opportunities to do as I wish, and when they are home they have this radar. Radar that tells them that I'm about to immerse myself in something that I enjoy. Radar that lets them know how easy it is to distract me and interrupt the flow of my thoughts.
Being a loner my entire life has left me with the ability to lose myself in my own thoughts for hours at a time. I often prefer the inner dialogue to what's happening around me. So yeah, being constantly pulled out of my thoughts and then ignored as soon as they've accomplished their mission pisses me off endlessly.
I used to just stay up late and enjoy the quiet after they were sleeping, but I'm getting old and they are almost adults so I can't do this as much as I used to. Yet my soul still needs this quiet time.
Maybe it's time to start listening to music again. Pearl Jam so that I can't hear them bickering in the background. Some Garbage that will mute the oldest trying to walk on his hands in the living room. Maybe a little bit of Everlast to cover up the endless trips to the fridge. Kings of Leon to distract me from the possibilities of what the hell is going on out there! Nine Inch Nails to work off the irritation that something will probably get broken. A bit of Sheryl Crow to mellow my mood.
Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. Either that or start smoking weed.
I can't wait until the guys leave to go to their Dad's for Christmas. I know I'm a horrible person. I mean who wants to be alone on Christmas Day. Me. Not for the whole day, just a little bit of it.
I get so few opportunities to do as I wish, and when they are home they have this radar. Radar that tells them that I'm about to immerse myself in something that I enjoy. Radar that lets them know how easy it is to distract me and interrupt the flow of my thoughts.
Being a loner my entire life has left me with the ability to lose myself in my own thoughts for hours at a time. I often prefer the inner dialogue to what's happening around me. So yeah, being constantly pulled out of my thoughts and then ignored as soon as they've accomplished their mission pisses me off endlessly.
I used to just stay up late and enjoy the quiet after they were sleeping, but I'm getting old and they are almost adults so I can't do this as much as I used to. Yet my soul still needs this quiet time.
Maybe it's time to start listening to music again. Pearl Jam so that I can't hear them bickering in the background. Some Garbage that will mute the oldest trying to walk on his hands in the living room. Maybe a little bit of Everlast to cover up the endless trips to the fridge. Kings of Leon to distract me from the possibilities of what the hell is going on out there! Nine Inch Nails to work off the irritation that something will probably get broken. A bit of Sheryl Crow to mellow my mood.
Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. Either that or start smoking weed.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Sometimes Mother's Do That
Last night my mom called to wish me a happy birthday. I mentioned that my employer had given us all one hundred dollar gift cards.
Mom: So are they ever going to give you enough time off to spend it?
She has a way of doing that sometimes. Making me feel as if I have to defend myself for taking pleasure in something.
My employer pays me for every hour I work, that is the only compensation any employee is entitled to. So yes sometimes a little more time away from my job would be nice but to give every employee such a generous gift is something I can appreciate.
That and the pleasure of knowing I have a hundred dollars to spend as I wish.
Mom: So are they ever going to give you enough time off to spend it?
She has a way of doing that sometimes. Making me feel as if I have to defend myself for taking pleasure in something.
My employer pays me for every hour I work, that is the only compensation any employee is entitled to. So yes sometimes a little more time away from my job would be nice but to give every employee such a generous gift is something I can appreciate.
That and the pleasure of knowing I have a hundred dollars to spend as I wish.
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