So...This Is It???

Over the past few weeks I've thought a lot about my 16 year old daughter and how she's...well, pretty much grown up.  The idea that my cute bald baby that used to scoot around my kitchen floor is now practically an adult is something that reduces me to tears.  With her 17th birthday just around the corner, I have to wonder to myself...is this it?  All these years?  All this time?  And now...bam!  Adult!  Just like that...off to get a job, step into the real world and what?  Is my job over?  It's really too much for my brain to comprehend.  I know I'm being dramatic and ALL the kids grow up and they leave home and do things, but it just happened so fast and I really don't know what to do with myself.

20 years ago, I was the young adult leaving the nest and I have vivid memories of that day.  I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car as my Dad was driving me to the Greyhound bus station.  I was excited and nervous to be shipping off to Army boot camp with my best friend, Leah.  As we drove to the bus station I was kind of zoning out, it was early and I was tired and I knew I had a long ride ahead of me from Florida to South Carolina.  Every few seconds I heard my Dad sniffing and before I looked over at him, I had this fleeting thought..."I didn't know he had a cold..."  And as soon as I looked over I realized the sniffling wasn't from a cold.  He was crying.  My Dad.  Crying.  And in that moment it hit me...how could I have been so stupid and selfish?  How could I not have known that leaving home would affect my parents?  Up until that point it had been all about me...I want to be an adult!  I want to leave home!  I want to spread my wings and be in charge of myself!  And here is my Dad driving me to a bus station, not knowing when he's going to see his kid again, bawling, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief and it never once occurred to me that this day would make THEM sad.  And now I know...now I know why the hardest thing to do is let your kid go.  Did I teach her enough?  Did I tell her how much I love her and how awesome I think she is?  Does she know how to cook dinner?  Can she do all this without me?  Yeah...she can.  I did and she can too.  She's going to fail sometimes, but that's part of learning to be an adult, and it's ok.  :-(

How'd You Do It????

Every once in a while I get brave enough to show that picture there below.  That is, of course, the "before" picture on the left.  It sounds soooo dramatic!  Look how terrible I looked BEFORE!!!  As if the after picture is the end all, be all...as if happiness can only be found in the after picture...

  

Anyway, people are very kind when they see the picture.  I usually hear things like "Oh my God!  That doesn't look anything like you!"  Or..."WOW!  How much weight did you lose?"  And to tell you the truth, I really hate answering that question, because I can see the internal calculations in their eyes...the subtracting, the figuring and then the realization that, yes, I am still fat.  That's right...I've lost 90+ pounds and I still have a large amount to lose.  I'm not "there" yet.  I don't really know for sure that I'll ever be "there." 

The truth is, it takes work to achieve a goal.  You always hear that you can be anything you want to be, or you can do whatever you want as long as you set your mind to it.  Well, ok, that's true, but let's not forget the amount of thinking, planning, deciding, and just flat out DOING that takes place to get to that goal.  It's not easy, in fact, as I sit here and write this post, tears are rolling down my face because weight has been a battle I've been fighting for close to 20 years.  If my predictions are correct, I think I'll be battling it for the rest of my life, I will just have been one of the lucky few to battle it from inside a slim body. 

The big question is always, "HOW'D YOU DO IT???"  Everyone always wants to know...how does a person lose 90 pounds???  They're like, "Hey!  I'm fat too!  I want to lose weight just like you!"

For this latest round of weight loss, I've entered myself into a fitness competition.  If you're overweight, I'm sure "fitness competition" sounds scary.  It's not.  It's just a fancy way of saying, "I paid $25 to try to lose more weight than any of the other people who entered so I can win the $250 prize."  Nothin' to it!  These fitness competitions seem to work for me...I like the idea that other people are out there working super hard to win a prize that I really want and EVEN IF YOU LOSE the money, you still WIN!!!  How cool is that?  Even if I ONLY lose 5 pounds, that's 5 pounds less than I was before and that is most DEFINITELY A WIN!  This competition is 8 weeks long and I set a goal of 25 pounds.  That's just over 3 pounds per week, but I think if I stick with my diet and exercise plan, I can come very close to the mark, I am EXCITED...here we go!!!

So...Happy Birthday?

I was at King Soopers this morning in search of the perfect birthday card.  It doesn't exist.  There.  I've saved you a lot of trouble...now you know, the birthday card that says everything you want it to is not out there.   Stop trying, you won't find it...just buy something that folds in half, stick a gift card inside and call it done, ok? 

I've been sitting at my desk for the past four hours trying to figure out what to write in this damn card!  What to say, what to say?  I don't know!!!!  Oh God, I don't know WHAT the hell to say!!! 

         "Dear New Boyfriend of 2 Months, Hi!  Happy Birthday!  You're cute! 

 Ok, bye!  See ya later!"

No...that won't work, I sound like an idiot.  Bye?  See ya later?  Really?  Ugh.

     "Dear Roger*, Hey, remember that time you peed on the toilet seat and you  

   wiped it right up?  Yeah, that was pretty awesome.  Anyway, Happy Birthday!"

*Name changed to protect the...whatever...forget it, this one is dumb too...

                                  "Hi Honey Bunny!  Happy Birthday, you're awesome and I hope you have an awesome birthday even though you won't be with me and I made all these plans and it was going to be so fun, but whatever, you'll be with your family, and I guess that's cool because I mean, that one lady did give birth to you and all, but it's like..whatever, like...we were gonna play air hockey together and eat steak and I was gonna be all heyyyyyy happy birthday, here's an awesome present, do you love it, do ya?  do ya?  So, it's fine, I'll just be at home by myself, watching Netflix with my bag of microwave popcorn and I'll be fine...so you go do your thing."

Oh, um...I guess that one was mostly about me?

 

                                    "Happy birthday, I hope you have a good birthday.  I hope all your days are good.  Not just your birthday.  Birthdays are kinda dumb.  It's just any other day.  Maybe we should get cards everyday...like..."hey, congratulations for finally ripping that toenail off...you've been picking at it all week...so...congrats dude!"

Wow.  I am really NOT good at this, am I? 

  "Good morning, and a very happy birthday to you, kind sir.  I hope you have a

  lovely day.  Best Regards, Your very formal and awkward girlfriend."

Mhm...I am sooo getting dumped.  This is not even funny anymore!

  "Hey!  It's your birthday, so here's a gift card to Starbucks.  I know you like that place because one time you said...I like that place, so, I thought, cool...he likes that place.  So, Happy Birthday, and here's some coffee!  Love, Me."

Love?  Love, me?  No....too soon.  Can you sign love when you're not all....heyyyyyy I looooove you, yet?  Can you?  Can someone please answer me because I'm all over here like...I don't know...Is that a thing?  Helloooo???

    "Happy Birthday, Sweetie!  I hope your birthday is as special as you are, you are one of a kind and deserve to have that adorable smile on your face, all day, everyday!  Love, Me."

That's gonna have to do...that's totally good enough.  I mean...I hope so...right?  It's good...it's totally fine...totally.  He'll love it.  Well, the starbucks card, at least....

Oh No you DIDN'T!!!!

     So, it starts out like this...There I was, minding my own business, when all of the sudden, out of NOWHERE, Mr. Perfect practically fell out of the sky and right into my lap.  I was a little hesitant to give Mr. Perfect (we'll call him Mr. P for short) the time of day, but I was immediately drawn in by his kind words and pretty blue eyes.  It didn't take long for me to REALLY like Mr. P.  After all, he said ALL the right things.  ALL OF THEM!  It was nice to hear things like "You're pretty!"  "You are amazing!"  "You mean EVERYTHING to me!"  I was like OMG!  Mr. P is sooooo sweet!  Like SOOOOO totally awesome!  I'm like hayyyyyy ya'll, look over here...this dude said I was pretty AND I mean EVERYTHING to him, so you all just better recognize!  

     I was pretty happy there for a minute.  I was like awwwww....Mr. P...so sweet....you gave me a card.  A cute one.  And another one with lots of words...and I'm sure you meant every word that was written on that card, didn't you?  EVERY.LAST.ONE!  I am SURE of it!  I could never be wrong about something like this!  He likes me, he really likes me!  

Like I said, I was pretty happy...getting tons of attention and hearing that I was pretty great from someone I thought was pretty great was...well...pretty great.  But then I was all...I don't know, man.  This guy says ALL the right things.  Is this real life?  Do guys really say ALL the things I want them to say?  Yeah, probably not, but what the heck...ya know, let's go with the flow and believe it anyway, because he's nice to me and what's the harm in believing that somebody would really want to be nice to me.  WHAT IS THE HARM IN THAT???????  HMMM???  I am asking you!!!

And then...one day I was like, ya know what, something just doesn't add up here and that's when I did a little digging and figured out HE WAS MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And I was all...REALLY?  Did that just HAPPEN?  So I made my WTF face...which you will see below.  All that time.  All those words.  All those lies.  For what?  What was the point of that?    

Well, I was quite miffed, as you can imagine.  No.  Miffed does not cover it.  I was pissed.  And hurt.  And like WHAT THE FUCK???  WHO does that?  THIS guy, apparently.  THIS guy does that.  Spends hours upon hours making me believe that he gives a rat's asshole about me, only to have a wife at home probably totally unaware that he is a total sleazebag-dirtball-lying-no talent assclown!!!  So...I went on ahead and did what any normal, sane woman would do.  I called my best friend Kelley and cried like a little bitch.  I was all "Kelley...what the FUCK!  Why would he do that to me?"  And she did exactly what a best friend should do...she was all, "Where is that mother fucker, I'm going to rip his fucking arms off!"  And then I was all..."sniff sniff, but I LIKE his arms, Kelley!"  And then I mostly got over it...because what the hell else can a girl do, except of course rip up the cards and...change his name in my phone to ASSHOLE.  And then go through and erase every little trace of him from my life.  Ahhhh....that feels better.  

Oh look...he wanted JUST ME!  It says it right there, with a heart exclamation point and everything, so it must be true.  Too bad about that whole wife thing, man...too bad!  Those were some real nice lies.  Moving on, with my awesomeness in tact.  Good day!

Well THAT'S Exciting!

I got tickets for me and Rocky to see a concert in May!!! Woo hoo!!! Who's excited? Me! (And Rocky, I hope!) We're going to see The Fray at Red Rocks and it's going to be awesome! I love having something to be excited about and something to look forward to, and getting to spend time with Rocky alone almost never happens, so...yay. Yeah, yay!

Check out the pics of this awesome place...







And...a song The Fray is famous for...how can you not love these guys?

Nope!

So I haven't written in this thang for a minute. I've been in a "nope" kinda mood. I'd like to thank a good friend for introducing me to "nope'ing." It's been a hoot, lemme tell ya! It doesn't matter what the question is, the answer is always NOPE! Wanna go see a movie? NOPE! Shovel snow? NOPE! Flush the toilet? NOPE! Whatever you want me to do...NOPE! Don't wanna do it! Everytime I start to write a blog post I get hung up on...is that too much information? Do people really wanna read about boys and breakups and bad skin and all the whining that goes along with it? Yeah, not really. So since I can't write anything worthwhile, read the following blog post from one of my favorite blog writers about adventures in depression. If you can't relate to it, gosh, ya know, I don't know if we can be friends. NOPE!

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html

It All Started With The Popcorn...

...and quickly went downhill after that. If you've spent any time reading these ding dangity pages, you probably already know that my life is one little train wreck after another, in which the heroine, meeeeeee, always comes out on top...or somewhere squished in the middle of the dogpile of life.

This week is really no different. It started out with the movie popcorn...which I left overnight in my sweet ride. Opening the door on that fine September morning I realized day old popcorn smells like wet cardboard soaked in skunk piss and was not likely something I'd be consuming later. Who the hell takes a doggie bag of popcorn home? Yeah...me...and oh yeah, in a desperate attempt to get salt into my system, I did indeed eat said popcorn later during a dark and lonely night while watching netflix. I WAS DESPERATE, OK???????

Stinky popcorn, really...no big deal, however, the fact that I have water trays in my freezer is turning out to be a HUGE deal. Water trays? What's that, you say? Well that's what mother effing ice trays turn into inside a brand new (used-new to me) freezer. My favorite part...god, I love this...is when the ice bucket completely thaws and then re-freezes into one HUGE SOLID CHUNK OF ICE. That shit don't fit in your water bottle real nice, no it don't, honey. Did I mention I stole $500 from my ex husband to buy this stellar piece of shit refrigerator? Did I mention that? Because, if I didn't, well now I am. No, I'm not a thief...well, not a thief ON PURPOSE...but when your old joint account checkbook (lavendar, hee hee) looks IDENTICAL to your "I'm-divorced-now-and-this-checking-account-contains-all-my-money-and-not-yours-ya-rat-bastard" checkbook, well, let's just say that a girl shouldn't be judged too harshly when she grabs the wrong one to frantically pay Alberto the fridge guy. Don't you judge me!

As if a stinky car, a broken fridge and stolen money weren't enough to bitch about...I got a ticket in the mail the other day. This is significant because I gave up one of my favorite past times a few months ago. Speeding. Ohhhh, how I looooved to speed, here and there and everywhere. It wasn't until I had gotten pulled over about six times in one month that I realized I had a problem. A problem worthy of SA-Speeder's Anonymous. I was so lucky that each time I got pulled over, I knew the cop! And this was great for me, ya know, because I didn't have to flash mah boobs or nothin! Because, really, at 36, the old boobies aren't what they used to be. Shoot, the way they lookin' now, I wouldn't be surprised if the cop didn't double the fine.

Anyway, back on track...the ticket was for running a red light...one of those rude-ass red light cameras that takes the WORST picture as you're running the stop light. Did I really look that bad driving? Do I always look so damn ugly in the car? Shoot, that's probably why nobody ever lets me merge! This is crap, seriously...there's no reason I should look THAT shitty while driving. Should be a crime! Haha! Wait, maybe it is! The sad part, is that I've been practicing being a good driver since the self intervention, I really have. I go the speed limit, I don't pass EVERY-FREAKING-BODY...I drive like...my DAD. What's even sadder, is that I have no memory of running a red light. And THAT, my friends, is the very definition of a bad driver. When you run the stop lights so frequently that it doesn't even occur to you anymore that it's the wrong thing to do. Slap my label on, folks. I suck at driving. And have the ticket to prove it.

...And the drama continues...over the past few months it's become clear that the neighbors of my cul-de-sac are no fans of mine. You see, I have the pleasure of being the single mom of the 'hood and folks don't take too kindly to that 'round these parts. I had gotten the impression that I wasn't welcome pretty much right away...the first day I mowed my lawn and apparently it was a spectator event. As I looked around the houses I noticed that after a few minutes of mowing, 5 of the 7 houses had their occupants firmly planted outside looking on at the anomaly that was occurring in their very own neighborhood. A WOMAN was cutting the grass. A WOMAN? Gasp! It cannot be, but it was. I, Ginger (last name here), was indeed breaking allll the rules and revving that engine all by my little old self.

And ya know...if it had stopped there, I wouldn't have minded so much...but one week, Ms. Single Mom over here got about 25 hours worth of overtime dumped into her lap and, well, as I am a good little worker bee, I went off to work in the wee hours of the night and did not return again until the sun was beating down on my tired face the next day all seven days of the week. Exhausted was an understatement. I should have known something was up when I saw my next door neighbor...we'll call her "I-don't-work-because-my-husband-does-that-for-me," or IDWBMHDTFM, for short, outside as I was leaving for work one evening. I was wearing my ugly ass work issued polo along with my work ID when she asked in her scrunched up "I'm totally judging you right now" face, "what do you dooooooo???" I replied with a big smile, "I'm a 9-1-1 dispatcher, ma'am." She turned on her heel and started back into her house, calling over her shoulder, "well, THAT must be very interesting!" Well shit yeah it is! Fuckin' A right, lady! Mystifying exchange, it was, but I had no time to dwell on it, until the next day when I was desperately begging the sleep Gods for a small blessing, just a few hours of that delightful unconsciousness I so badly needed.

The phone rang. The fucking phone ALWAYS rings when you work nights. It was the property management company. Yay! It's always good news when THEY call! NOT! I was politely informed that I had not cut the grass that week. Oh, and there's a brown spot you single mom whore, did ya notice that? Did ya? The neeeiiiigbors are complaining! Something must be done, NOW!!!! As my foggy brain tried to process this information, all I could think was, wahhhh, I JUST fell asleep. You ASSHOLE! But, being threatened with all things scary, such as fines, eviction and neighborhood ostracization, I did what any sensible tenant would do. I fucking got up. I put some fucking clothes on. I opened the fucking garage. And I mowed the fucking grass. I also said the f word to myself as I did it. And because I know the people on my special little circle like me so much, I danced to the tune of my iPod. Yes. I did. And it was RAPPPPPPP music. Oh Heavens no! And ya know what else I did? I watered the shit out of the brown spot. For three days in a row. I'm actually pretty proud of that...raised my water bill by a good 20 bucks, yes I did!

Oh how the property management company loved that. They loved it so much, they even gave me a note on my door with a sweet little smiley face that said, "Thanks! Good job!" Awww...I feel so accomplished now. I did a good job...this week. Over the next week to two weeks, work wreaked havoc on my life again. The grass...well you know where this is going, don't you? Sadly, the grass grew again. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it myself. Fucking traitor ass grass! If you guessed that I got another phone call from the yard police with some more nasty threats...well ding ding ding, you guessed right. And the process repeated itself. Drag tired ass out of bed...cut stupid piece of shit asshole grass...make scrowly face while doing it...all this occurred. It was epic. Neighbors placated. Property management company issues smiley face #2, blah blah blah.

After too many weeks from hell at work, life gets a little more normal. Grass cutting 101 commences. Weekly grass cutting. No bitching from neighbors. Life is good. Until I got the notice. The city...gosh that sounds scary...anyway, the city says that the big ass dead tree in my yard MUST come down because there have been complaints from surrounding neighbors. Hmmm...IDWBMHDTFM must have made a phone call to the CITY. So...my grass is green and purty now we have to complain about the tree. Nice. The owners hired some dudes to chop the tree down, that mo fo was big. Like supa fly big, y'all. They must have been thirsty tree choppers, because when I came home, I found empty water bottles littered all over my yard. What a nice bunch of assholes they must have been. Ya wanna know what else I found in my yard? A giant huge ass bigger than yo mama big fucking pile of wood chips. See picture that follows...

Yeah...it's been there almost a week. It's killing the green grass I so lovingly watered the shit out of. The property management folks don't know whennnnnn they are going to remove the wood chips, but they better fucking do it soon because I don't know about you, but I'm a little afraid of IDWBMHDTFM...I'm sure she's already been on the phone whining about Mount tree-sa over there. (That was a play on words there, did ya get it? Like the leaning tower of Pisa? Except with Mount and tree? Haha)

Sweet Revenge
I am not a vengeful person...if you don't believe me, please see previous posts, re: divorce, where I did not, in fact, sugar anyone's gas tank, key any cars, or burn down any houses. However, when I woke up one morning to find my tire flattened to hell and gone, I could never have guessed what sweet revenge the universe would bestow upon me. Ahhh, I like to smile now as I look back on the lovely scene that played itself out right in front of my very eyes. Do you remember IDWBMHDTFM? Do you remember her? She doesn't like me. I know this. I have accepted it. Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, waiting for my friend to rescue me from the misery that is a flat tire, when IDWBMHDTFM's HUSBAND crossed over to my side of the driveway and said, "Excuse me, I notice you have a flat tire, would you like some help?" I nearly passed out but had the wits about me to gladly accept his kind offer. I did what any smart woman would do in a situation such as this. I offered to help fix my own tire, to hand over a tool or two, but the man helping would have none of it, because he was saving the day. It's some primal thing, I don't really get it and I genuinely do feel guilty when people help me...but nothing made me smile bigger than when IDWBMHDTFM came outside and saw her husband changing MY tire. I think the sun shone a little brighter on me that day, and I have to be honest, I really had a hard time not rubbing it in. I may have winked a little when I thanked her for letting me borrow her husband. I couldn't help it...it was just so...magical. I really shouldn't be so gleeful about such a thing, but I was downright giddy. And of course, appropriately thankful. I know I will pay for this with some other complaint...but for now I will relish in that moment.

I'll have to wrap this up because I fear my tales of woe will begin to be unbelievable. Such as the $1,000 bill I just got for the ONE college class I'm taking through my job that is supposed to be FREE, or the fact that I've been accidentally paying 40 extra dollars a month for rent...or that my rent is being raised by 45 dollars if I renew my lease. They have me by the balls. Surely insomnia is believable. I haven't slept more than 2 hours a night for 5 days. I push my head as hard as I can into the pillow, hoping that will do the trick, but sadly, I am just tired and have a sore neck.

I'm going to take my sorry ass off to bed, where I will dream of chocolate frosted donuts, cool weather and more smiley faces. After all, winter will be here soon and I'm sure I'll get a good job sticker if I shovel my snow. I can just FEEL it!

Dancing Danika

The adorable child in the back dancing to the beat of her own drummer is Danika. Nice work in dance class, little lady!




To watch the video in full screen, click the icon on the bottom right of the video that has four arrows.

A Quick Observation...

Raisins are not food. What lazy ass S.O.B. let grapes sit around until they were all dry and wrinkly and then said... "Hey! I think I'll eat these!" No. Just no. That's gross.



The man who covered them in chocolate? Fuckin' genius.



That is all. Carry on with your day.

P.S. Raisin is a funny looking word. The more I look at it the more I don't believe that raisin means "raisin."

"Home" Is Where All Your Old Crap Is

Every so often I make it back home for a visit. I'm all grown up now, all busy and shit, so these visits don't happen too often. You really can't go back too regularly, because as soon as you cross the threshold of your childhood home you're instantly twelve years old. It's true. When I walk into my parents home, I drop my suitcase just inside the door and I forget EVERYTHING. Suddenly I'm a kid again and I call my parents Mommy and Daddy and I want to stay up late and eat ALL of the ice cream and I think every time the phone rings, it must be for meeeee!

Everything at "home" is so familiar. I like that I can walk into the kitchen and find the plates exactly where they were 25 years ago. At home there is always a never ending supply of tea bags and sweet n low, toilet paper and salad. Apparently these are the essentials in life. The joke is that if my Mom, (Mop...that's what I call her) gets down to one case of toilet paper, she has to make an emergency trip to Sam's Club to stock up. The woman has a great fear of running out of toilet paper. I guess she likes a clean ass or something. Weird. If I'm lucky enough to be home for longer than a few days I might get to see my Dad's infamous bill face. This mysterious face only comes out once a month and it's a toss up on whether or not you really want to see it. Entertaining to watch, but ohhhh soooo serious. For the record, the bill face does not speak while it's in use. When I was a kid, before I recognized the bill face, I would ask my Dad, "Whatcha doin', Pop?" And he'd answer without thinking and with a big sigh, "The Bills." Oh. Hmmm...that didn't sound very fun and not something a kid could do, so I'd scamper off to play fashion plates or homemade karaoke until the bill face and the bill drawer went back to their hiding places.



By far, my favorite thing to do at home is to go to my bedroom and look at my old stuff. I know what's there, I left it behind almost 17 years ago. On purpose. There's a comfort in knowing that somewhere in this world there is a place that contains my stuff. Physical memories of the past, a simpler time when all I had to think about was if my science homework was done or how many pennies were in my piggie bank or what weekend the all-night skate would be down at the skating rink. Late at night after my parents have gone to bed, I start digging through my drawers where I come across old rings and necklaces, a random pair of socks, notes written by my best friend in middle school, all folded up in that awesome middle school way. After I've inspected everything in my drawers, I head for the hope chest. I gently open the cedar box, so large it reminds me of a coffin. The smell of cedar fills my nostrils and more memories fill my head. Stacked neatly inside are my senior high school pictures. I can't help but laugh at them...I have that dreamy far away look on my face, bright red lipstick and totally 80's hair. I'm not sure if the seventeen year old girl in that picture knew where her life would lead her, so far it's been a good ride but I think 17 year old Ginger wanted a little more than 35 year old Ginger has now. But for a moment it's fun to flip through the old pictures, pick up the trophies and remember all the fun times I had. I like to keep in touch with the 13 year old me, say hello to her every now and then and remember how much fun it was to blow off the day and lay around at the beach. There needs to be more of that when you grow up!



Last but not least is my closet....ohhhh my closet. It's now filled with half of Mop's wardrobe, but buried deep within I find my poofy red prom dress. Truth be told, it's the best dress I EVER had! In an unusual turn of events, my Dad was the one to take me shopping for that dress and I remember when I walked out of the dressing room he instantly said, "that's the dress!" And it was...bright red, a little poofy, a little scrunchy, but just right for my senior prom. Oh how many memories a prom dress can bring. I spent all day getting ready for prom, getting my hair done with half a can of aqua net, painting my nails and waiting for my date to pick me up. We headed off to my Grandma's house so she could see me all dressed up. She was sick with lung cancer and the visit was the hilight of her night, I loved having her be a part of that day as much as she loved being a part of it. Once we departed Grandma's house, we stopped by McDonald's for dinner where I ate chicken nuggets and answered the many questions from the other patrons about my plans for the night. "PROM, of course," I said...and oh, by the way, my date is a cheap bastard. I'll never forget walking out of the bathroom at the dance with the back of my dress trapped in my pantyhose. MORTIFYING...except I felt the breeze before anyone saw my hiney. Phew! Also left at home was my Army dress uniform. It hasn't fit me for years but I love to look at it, still pressed from the last time I wore it, medals adorn the chest, my name tag still in place. I can't even begin to recount my short time in the Army, but suffice it to say, it was fun, scary, hard, annoying, and invigorating all at once.



As my visit home comes to a close I contemplate packing up all my old stuff and taking it with me. And every time that thought crosses my mind I veto the idea completely. My old things don't hold the same meaning in my house. They belong back "home" where the 6 year old me still lives. The kid with curlers in her hair eating homemade popsicles and petting a cat named Precious.

Bridesmaids-A Movie Review

Tuesday morning...I woke up and decided I was going to see a movie tonight. This is unusual for me because I'm generally known as a movie hater, but I felt compelled to see this particular movie because I'd heard it was FUNNY. And...well...I like funny. Funny makes me laugh and feel all happyyyyyyyy inside. Watching movies usually makes me crazy. I'm trapped. For two whole hours. In the same seat. My mind doesn't stop...I think about EVERYTHING...I have to pee. Am I hungry? Should I get my nose pierced? How about a tattoo today, that might be fun. Random sporadic thinking that cannot be contained. In preparation for my big night out I texted 11 friends...yes, ELEVEN friends, to see if anyone wanted to go with me. If you're still reading this story, you can probably guess by now that I went to see Bridesmaids alone. And you might also be thinking...wow...that's kind of pathetic. And I can see why you might be thinking that, but I swear, it was anything but.



I arrived at the theater with 15 minutes to spare. I was excited. It's date night, after all. I take MYSELF out, and the only person I have to worry about is meeeee!!! One ticket for the movie in hand and it's off to the snack bar. Large popcorn and a large drink? Yes, please! I made my way over to the ticket guy and looked at him in desperation as I realized my all important movie ticket was buried somewhere within my wallet, keys, cell phone, popcorn and coke. As it turns out I really DO only have two hands. I sheepishly grinned at the 16 year old movie ticket taker boy and said, "Wow, it's really hard to carry all this by yourself!" He was not amused...so I did what any rational middle aged woman would do...I pointed to the ticket with my nose...and said, "It's there, under the popcorn...no...left hand...if you want it, you're going to have to take it!" And he did and he tossed the stub on top of the popcorn...and then I realized I needed to pee. Well this is going to be inconvenient. I quickly shuffled to the women's bathroom and shoved the door open with my butt. I commandeered the handicapped stall and gently disengaged myself from the popcorn and giant coke while I pulled down the diaper changing table with my knee, all the time praying there wouldn't be any poop smears on it. Score! No poop. And then I...wait...do we need to hear the details of this part? No, probably not. I was in the bathroom. I did bathroom-type things...including a good bit of handwashing. Moving on...



As I entered the theater, I realized that I can sit wherever I want. I'm ONE person. I don't have to make sure there is enough room for my brood. No asking someone else, "Where do you want to sit?" I don't have to automatically go to the front of the theater as I had in years past because today it's just me and I shall sit in the middle! Feeling a little uneasy as I was the first to arrive, I nervously looked around wondering if they'd cancel the movie if I was the only one. They can't do that, can they? Well, I suppose anything can happen, but I'm really looking forward to the next two hours, so bring on the entertainment! As I'm waiting, I decide to make myself comfortable. Loud jingly keys, wallet and cell phone on the floor, popcorn in my lap, drink at my side, feet up and I'm a happy girl.

The previews start and I think I'm home free. And then it happened. To my left, three college girls set up camp, complete with whispering and giggling, but hey, at least they left a fag seat. (You don't know what a fag seat is? Too bad! Figure it out!) I'm happily shoving fistfuls of greasy popcorn in my face when I spot the freaking family reunion walking in mid-way through the previews. It's dark and the three women look directly at me and my prime movie watching spot and make a beeline for me. Really, y'all? Really? There are like 22 people in the entire theater and...yup...you guessed it, Miss "I'm-drenched-in-Cinnabar perfume-and-you-WILL-smell-me-from a-mile-away" perched her perfect little hiney directly next to mine. Ok, I didn't actually SEE her hiney...being dark and all, but she was a petite little thang, wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty flowing blouse, expertly coiffed hair, dangly gold earrings, Tammy Faye Baker makeup and that GOD-AWFUL perfume. Fuckin' kill me now! My nostrils have been invaded. As she sat down, I realized my wallet and phone were directly under her legs, so I quickly reached down and promptly found myself with a handful of foot! I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Oh my gosh, I TOTALLY did not mean to grab your foot!" I uttered this semi-apology while I still had her piggies in my grasp. Finally able to let go, I floundered around on the floor til I could locate my wallet and phone. Ms. Perfect seemed totally unfazed by the foot grabbing incident, so I allowed myself to relax and wait for the feature presentation.

WARNING!!! If you are planning to see Bridesmaids, the movie, you may not want to read further as I plan to spoil the shit out of this movie for you. Ok, not really, but I gotta tell some-freaking-body about the funny parts of this movie. You've been warned...your spoiler alert has been thusly posted.



The movie begins with an awkward bedroom scene...you know the kind...you're sitting next to your MOTHER in the theater wondering why in the hell you brought her to this movie and why didn't you check the online reviews first to find out what naughty little bits might be in this flick that you absolutely do NOT wish to see with your mother! But hey, ya know, I'm not here with my mama, so I am not wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The girl two seats down from me, however, is not so lucky. The 30'ish year old girl is there with her Grandmother and Mother (aforementioned perfume head.) Grandma is loudlyyyyy whispering, "Oh my gosh! This is really NOT necessary! Why do they show such things in movies these days?" Oh good lord, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist, k? It's just sex, it ain't gonna kill ya, and if my calculations are correct, I believe you engaged in "such things" and created the stench to my right some years ago! Hee hee! No...I did not say these things with my out loud voice. But I swear, I should have!

I decide early on that this movie is quite entertaining and I will do my absolute best to NOT make any superfluous trips to the john. Also I will be taking notes, mental notes, of all the life lessons being offered up for a mere five dollars and fifty cents. First life lesson: (Taken from awkward bedroom scene)

Douchey male: "Ohhhh, this is soooo awkward...I really want you to leave, but I don't want to sound like a dick."

Life Lesson #1: Any man that says this IS a dick and is not worth your time. Also, you should call him a dick to his face, it'll make you feel better. I promise.

As the movie progresses I am feeling less and less alone. As you can guess, a movie entitled, "Bridesmaids," attracts a predominantly female audience and tonight the theater is packed full of us lady-types. And ONE man. We're having a great time together, almost laughing on cue all together in a happy little chorus of lady laughs. I am thoroughly enjoying my "alone" time with these 20 ladies. Even stinky McGee's perfume has stopped annoying me. I like the female bonding. Yes I do.

The next scene shows the main character, Annie, hanging out at a coffee shop with her best friend, the bride. They are discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I can't properly describe how damn funny it is when Annie contorts her body and closes one eye to do an impression of a penis. Nothing short of hilarious. She even uses her arms to look like the...um...well...you know...there are two of them...whatever, you get it! They catch up like only best friends can do, reading each other's minds with just a look.

Life Lesson #2: You need a best friend that you can laugh about penises with. It's a requirement for sanity.

As the movie progresses it becomes more apparent that Annie is a little lost and trying to find her way. She's a lonely single gal, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, and I can totally identify with "the cupcake scene." Poor thing goes home and spends a good amount of time elaborately preparing a beautiful cupcake. She makes just enough batter for the single cupcake, bakes it, frosts it, decorates it and places it on the counter. All that work for one cupcake that no one else will see. She stares at the cupcake for a while looking forlorn and then she does what any sensible woman should do. She picked the fuckin' thing up and shoved it in her face looking almost victorious and defeated all at the same time.

Life Lesson #3: Eat the cupcake. EAT THE FUCKING CUPCAKE!

Picking out the bridesmaids dresses...this obligatory task can be a great bonding time for the girls or it can be a disastrous miserable nightmare. In this case...total nightmare. The girls ate some baaaaaaad meat and the results in this all white dress shop were not pretty. Everyone dashes off to the bathroom...and...well...diarrhea is just funny. The plus sized bridesmaid, Megan, hops up onto the sink, hikes up her pretty pink dress and goes to town. That sink will never be the same. When the food poisoning finally hits the bride, she starts to run across the street to find an empty bathroom and makes it about halfway before she starts sinking to the ground yelling, "Oh God, it's happening...it's happening...I'm shitting in the street. I'm shitting IN.THE.STREET." Annie is looking out the door of the bridal shop at her street shitting friend with a really defeated look on her face mumbling, "You're really doing it, you're really shitting in the street."

Life Lesson #4: If the toilet is occupied, the sink is a good second choice. Followed closely by the middle of the street.

Ok...here's the deal. I can't write anymore...my fingers are bleeding, man! You HAVE to see this movie. That's it, there's really no other choice. It'll make you laugh. It'll make you cry. It'll make you want to eat some freaking wedding cake. Also...there's a really cute cop in this movie and he has a great accent...which brings me to my final life lesson.



Life Lesson #5: Guys with accents are hot. They can't even help it.

So there ya go, that's my big Tuesday night out. I think I was a pretty good date. I bought the popcorn, I paid for the movie, heck, I even gave myself a goodnight kiss. I do believe I'll be calling myself for a second date.

I Forgot To Sleep

I was standing at the kitchen window this morning downing my daily dose of allergy meds when I noticed out of the corner of my eye a small bird pecking at the ground. Having a little time to kill I thought I'd take a few minutes and soak in some nature, kinda like national geographic, except suburban style. A few minutes into watching the bird, I realized he (well, I assume it was a he) wasn't pecking at all, he was pulling a worm out of the ground! At first I thought it was really cool because here I am up at 5:30 am watching an EARLY bird catch the worm! This has to mean something, maybe a sure sign of luck for me...today will be a GOOD day because I have seen the early bird and it is indeed catching its worm. Except...it was disgusting. The bird was yanking this fat juicy worm out of the ground with its creepy pointy beak while the worm would do its best to wiggle itself back into the ground. And so it went, over and over...yank, wiggle, yank, wiggle, yank, wiggle, until finally YANK! And the bird won...the worm was bloody and wounded and would not be returning to its little dirt tunnel. I felt nauseous and decided...maybe today won't be so good, it surely wasn't for that poor worm! Stupid selfish pig headed bird!

And on the morning went...I tossed a load of laundry in and set about getting the kids up for school. One by one they dragged themselves out of bed only to plop down on the couch to watch tv. Breakfast made and dishes done, I popped in to check on the laundry. And that's when I smelled it. Burning. Something was burning! But what??? "Oh my gosh," I thought, "It's true! Lint CAN catch on fire!" This CANNOT be happening...I threw open the dryer door and massive amounts of pale green lint came billowing out, the clothes that had been drying for an hour were still completely wet. I pulled the lint trap out and scads of lint fell onto the floor, nothing was burning but the scent of smoldering lint wafted into the air. I'd caught it in time, no fire today. I foresee a fun new dryer-taking-apart project in my near future, but not now. Now we have to drive to schoooool!!!

As we rush out the door, I flip the light switch only to hear a quick *pop* and the garage goes dark. Great. ONE.MORE.THING.TO.DO. Fine! We fumble our way to the van and I open the garage door and notice it's still raining...oh and look...there are my trash cans sitting on the curb, lids off, collecting copious amounts of rain water. Add that to the list. Mental list. Things I gotta do. Must remember the things to do...wet laundry, suck lint, fix light bulb, dump water out of trash cans, bring them inside. Ok, I can handle all that. Yes. As long as I don't forget. Now then...kids all buckled in their seats, time for the drive to school. Kid #1, Miss teenager that she is, rushes into the building to make it to her first class and I'm not more than a mile away when I get a phone call from the office that I need to come on back and bring the kid her cell phone. Wonderful. Fine. Drop #2 & #3 off and rush home to retrieve said phone and hurry back to school for a speedy delivery. It's not even 9am yet and I'm already tired. At some point today, sleep must happen because work will happen tonight, whether sleep comes or not.

I finally get home and breathe a sigh of relief because I'm all alone in the house and it's time to rest. I like resting. It's my favorite...next to boiled peanuts, baths and swimming. I have a date with my laptop, a bowl of ice cream and a dining room table. It's internet time, time to relax before nappy time. But first I make
a much needed pit stop in the bathroom. I have to pee like every hour. What is THAT about? Is it because I have 3 kids and they stomped all over my bladder and now it's all misshapen or something? It's annoying! Anyway, so there I was...minding my own business...DOING my business, just number ONE, y'all, gosh...when I dropped my phone...yeah, yeah, I was playing on my phone on the toilet, whatevs. Anyway, I lean over to pick up the phone and I hear a loud CRACK. FUCK. I just cracked the fucking toilet seat. I gingerly (haha, see what I did there?) sat my hiney back down so I could finish my biznissssss. This is an important lesson I need to share. You see, apparently when you SIT on a cracked toilet seat, said seat expands, or the crack opens up a little, if you will, like a tiny shark with teeny little razor-y shark-y teeth. (Rocky used to call sharks "sharper fish" when she was a little kid...cute little childhood memory for ya.) ANYWAY...when you stand up, the toilet seat teeth grab your ass like an angry little bitch shark and hang on for dear life. Shit! That really hurt! I guess that's one more thing on the old list...but later. Pretty much everything can wait, because as I mentioned before, I.NEED.TO.SLEEP!

Finally I have a few minutes to sit down at my beloved laptop. I might read the news, chat with a few friends and generally just waste time until the sleeping pills kick in. This is a grand plan and I LIKE it. Wasting time is ALSO my favorite. While I'm sitting in the chair I notice that it's wobbling really bad. This could be an emergency. What if...one day I sit down in the wobbly ass chair and I break my back or my leg or something. That would hurt. Also, maybe I couldn't walk anymore. I would not like that. No. No, I wouldn't. I decide this is definitely an emergency and needs fixed straight away. I skip out to the garage (yes, I really did skip...what can I say, I was in a good mood...skipping happens, don't fight it, y'all.) and get a screwdriver. I know how to fix wobbly chair! I am on top of this one! Wait, it wasn't a screwdriver at all, it was that other kind. The bendy metal thing that comes in like...packs of 10 in different sizes. It was one of those. Yeah. That's what I fixed the chair with. Anyway, look, long story short...I fixed the freaking chair, ok. I like FINISHED fixing something and it's all sturdy and shit now.

I'm starting to get a little annoyed now because I was supposed to putz around on my stupid computer and then fall asleep! This is the plan and I only have about 7 more hours to make it happen. I decide to run out to the mailbox and check the mail. This turns out to be a bad idea. Do you want to know why? I'll tell you why. Fuck the IRS. Ok? Fuck them. They have my money and I want it back. Does anybody know a guy with a big huge scary pipe who can go rough up the IRS and tell them to gimme my MONEYYYYYYY??? No? Fine. I'll open the stupid letter those rat bastards sent me and fill out another 15 forms so I can wait yet another 2 months for my refund. Whatever. Oh...and by the way, the mail was soaked because it was raining. And the special envelope I have to mail my forms back in? Yeah, it's TOTALLY glued shut! How am I gonna find an envelope with that dumb ass cellophane window in just the right place to display the address? Huh? Tell me that! Fuck it. I'll just rip the damn thing open, stuff my shit in there and tape it back together. It won't look una-bomber'ish at all. Right. Fuck the IRS. Did I already say that? Tough. Fuck 'em.

It's around noon time now and I could totally get 3 and a half hours sleep before I have to pick up the kids. I could. If I got into bed. And it's about this time I'm wondering how mother flippin' effective those sleeping pills are. Not very much, by golly, because I am still conscious. I'm thinking that since I can't sleep, it'll be a real nice time to clean out the garage. Who doesn't love a good old fashioned garage cleanin? Hmmm??? I suppose I'll tackle this project alone, you know, since I forgot to have adult companionship of any kind around. Bollocks! I have like...eight things. Not much at all. When you move and start over, somehow, there is a severe lack of stuff. That is ok. I do not like stuff, but the stuff that I possess shall be lined up in pretty lines, boxes stacked neatly, everything will be just so, because THIS IS MY GODDAMN HOUSE AND I SAID SO! Ahem...Sorry, anyway, the garage did in fact get cleaned, by my hands. I did it. Done, complete, finito. And, oh joy! I found my wedding ring. Isn't that exciting? Anyone want it? No, for reals...cuz, I could mayyyybe get 12 dollars for it, but maybe it needs a good home. Or maybe it needs to be drowned in the middle of Lake Loveland. Maybe it does. And Maybe I can make that happen. I've murdered a wedding ring before, don't make me do it again, fuckers. I can murder the shit out of a ring.

I gotta be honest, I'm tired of writing this damn post. I was tired the day I did all this crap, but reliving it? MORE tired! All I wanted to do was convey the fact that EVERYTHING gets in the way of me sleeping for work. So I do not sleep. To finish up, I shall write the rest of the things I did on this day in an orderly list so that you understand how I really didn't do a damn thing but couldn't get a moment's peace all day long...

*Went to visit friend and new baby at hospital
*Made mad rush to Wal Mart before visiting friend in hospital for totally awesome welcome baby gift
*While at hospital washed my hands (accidentally) in one of those mother fucking bunn hot water spouts. Hands then throbbed like a cartoon character for the rest of day. Red, throbby ouchiness all.effin.day.
*Picked kids up from school
*Tried to make dinner
*Oldest daughter cried that the poop our dog was eating was not poop at all, but a dead bird. Poison worm? Maybeeee...
*Pick up dead bird and give it a god damn funeral in the trash can.
*Son kicked ball over house into neighbors yard. Neighbor's dog finds ball and absconds into the house with it...then teases us for the next hour going in and out of the doggie door saying "ha ha ha, I have your ball, you dumb ass kid" each time.
*Our dog rips my son's shoe off his foot and runs away with it. After much chasing and yelling, mom rescues shoe. And tells dog to quit bein an asshole.
*Dinner, 2nd attempt. Find mold on hot dogs. Go to McDonald's.
*Eat, clean up mess.
*Take dryer apart, suck lint. Lots of it.
*Make 2 kids take baths.
*Take shower. It's cold. Kids took all the hot water. Try not to whine. Whine anyway.
*Get kids to their dad's so mom can go to work. It's 8 pm. How did this happen? It was just 8 am 5 minutes ago.
*Call co-worker and say...I forgot to sleep...can I come in at midnight? Co-worker loves me and says yes. Yay!
*Sleep. 3 hours. Glorious.
*Drive to work...fast...get pulled over by cop who from a different police department. Cop asks the right questions so Ginger does not get a ticket. (Where are you going so fast? Work! Where do you work? Police dispatch!!! Yessssss!!!) Sergeant from MY police department backs up cop who pulled me over. Now I am embarrassed. And Sergeant thinks it's funny. So funny. Cannot live this one down. Vow to stop speeding...but then remember how much fun it is, so I say fuck it and drive fast anyway.
*Get to work, finally. Bored to tears.
*Get home at 7am, remember the stupid dog didn't want to come inside last night. I hope she learned her lesson. She got sprayed by a skunk. And now I'm suffering for it.

Good fucking night.

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

Laughing is my favorite. I think I like it more than cake and ice cream and roly polies and swimming and telling a-holes to f-off and having a good hair day. I like laughing better than ALLLLL these things!

So sometimes, when I find myself sitting around thinking too much about life and what it all means, I think...shit! I have to get up and get out, do something big! I have to liiiive!!! NO MORE THINKING!

Maybe I'll bungee jump or sky dive or go ice skating or eat sushi. I could enter a break dancing contest or take a tour of the White House or run a marathon! I could do ALLLL thisssss to clear my head orrrrr....I could watch funny videos on YOU TUBE!!!

And that's exactly what I do. I usually start off slow, with something that will elicit a giggle or two to get the ball rolling...

This video is a comedian talking about being broke. Watch and giggle. THAT'S AN ORDER!



Next I'll watch something cute...you know, something adorable that makes you go awwww!!!



Equally as cute...



And really, once I start watching funny animal videos, it's kind of hard to stop, but I have to limit myself because there are MORE hilarious videos that I NEED to see like nowwww...Such as my ALL TIME FAVORITE, which incidentally is the reason I'm going to hell. (If you laugh at this I'll see you in the fiery pit of hell sitting right alongside me.)



And you can never go wrong with a dumb cop video.



After a while I get a little bored with videos...so I do something completely different...and read and re-read my favorite blog...



http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/

Did you read the blog? Did you? Read some of it! Do it nowwww!!! I PROMISE you will laugh!

Other things make me laugh. Like the other night at work when I told my friend Sam to google something for me and he said..."I'll google your face!" So he did. He googled "Ginger's face" And this is what happened...



This website will keep me laughing for hours...

http://damnyouautocorrect.com/



After a while I get bored and take a break from the internets. Maybe I'll go outside and lay in the grass...you know, get me a suntan!



Yeah, that's me...I was RIGHT THERE in that there grass. See me? Yeah, I ain't got no head!

Or maybe I'll go to the grocery store to visit the fruit.


U-G-L-I? You ain't got no alibi, you UGLY! Hey-hey, you ugly!!!

It's important to stop by and check out the vegetables while you're at the store, you never know when you need some young impressionable peas.



Hee hee...

You can't spend too much time out. Being out makes you tired and grumpy and the point of the day was to LAUGH, so back home I must go so I can sit around some more and watch MOREEEEEEE videos!

Airport humor? I think so!



This one is totally inappropriate, but you can't help but laugh at a dude who can't keep from laughing...



Men have no tolerance for pain...poooor little bunny!



Eddie Murphy...a classic, you don't laugh, you did not live in the awesome 80's!



Funny stuff...that's all I have for today! More laughing! No frownies! No thinky! Too much thinky makes a girl crazy! Goodnight!

Hi POP!

Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Dadddddyyyyyyyyy!!!! Whatcha doin? I was just about to post a new blog post, but I see you already checked in for today at some crazzzzyyyy early hour in the morning! Ya gotta give a girl a chance to write, man, what do you think I do, stay up all night long? Well, yes, I do, but first I had to play with my coupons, and eat some seeds, and then stare at the tv for a while and chat with friends and...oh yeah...work! So now, I shall blog and off you go to eat your oatmeal and bananas and then to work. Tell Mop hi!

Love, Hop!

LIVE: Ginger Goes to Jury Duty

I love iPhone! Look...I take picture of where I park, then I find car soooo easy later! I say..."oh no, where I park?" iPhone say, "you take picture, you park here, remember, lady?" Love you iPhone! Muahhhhh!



I'm here!!! Doing my civic duty. I have to wear this sticker on my shirt...it says "juror" so I'm like all official, y'all. I hate these stickers cuz everyone puts 'em on their chest...that's where they GO and I know this, but when you're a lady-type, that sticker sits right on top of yo boob and it's like a neon sign screaming, "Hey, y'all! Look at my right boob! L@@K!!! There's a sticker there! And underneath...a boob!" I thought about putting it somewhere else, like on my belly button, but really, that would just cause people to say, "hey, shouldn't that be right THERE...you know...on your boob?"



The slide show started y'all. It says "Welcome to jury duty." Awww...isn't that nice? After the first slide I am not feeling so welcome. There are lots of slides that, in a nutshell, say, "YOU PARK HERE! NOT THERE!!! YOU PARK THERE, YOU GET TICKET! YOU PAY NOWWWW, MISTER!!!"

Nobody is sitting next to each other! Why dey do dis? It's like on an airplane. You know eventually the empty seats around you will be filled but for those first 15 glorious minutes before the flight takes off you delude yourself into thinking you will have space. WRONG!!! No space for you! Flight is full suckaaaaa!!! I chose an aisle seat, FYI... What? A girl's got to go potty without trippin' over a buncha dumb legs. Gosh!

OMG! We've been waiting 30 minutes since we checked in...what is going to happen next? What are they going to tell us?? We need informations right now. It's soooo quiet in here with all these people, yet so noisy. Sooo many noises. Sniffing, coughing, throat clearing, nose blowing, whispering, scratching, papers rattling, sipping, oh my!!!

Oh! It's video time! Being a juror is fun, video says, it is your civic duty. You do good job, or else! You do it NOWWWW!!! Even judges have to be jurors, and retirees and moms and dads and smelly men and perfumed ladies and people with no teeth and and and...

After video the judge is coming to talk to us. The JUDGE! He's like a celebrity! What will he say? Maybe we will get a stern lecture with lots of finger pointing and eyebrow furling. Or maybe he will tell a joke to lighten the mood. I like jokes. I bet he tells one that starts off with a priest and a rabbi walking into a bar....oh wait, here he is. Oh my gosh, his name is Judge Lynch. Hahahahahaha!!! Hee hee hee!! Oh...ouch...that struck my funny bone hard. LULZ!!! It turns out that the prosecution's eye witness was a flaky mcflakerpants and the whole case has been dismissed. We are free to go. What a let down! I feel robbed! I want to be jury NOWWWW!!!

Well, I have my day back, what should I do now...hmmm....how's about I go to my favorite restaurant since I'm already downtown. LUCILLE'S for the win! I love love love this place! It's a Cajun restaurant in an old downtown house. They serve spicy iced tea and beignets and grits and oh my gosh I love it soooo much. Before your meal they bring you a biscuit. Biscuit, oh boy!!!! That is a biiiig biscuit, enough for four people! There's apple butter and strawberry rhubarb preserves on the table...homemade...in little crocks, sooo cute! Yum. By the way, what the heck is a preserve? That's what I wanna know.



Don't eat too much biscuit, don't do it. Real food is next, nobody wants to fill up on biscuit, that's just silly!

Also, iPhone is my dining companion. Isn't he cute? Just sitting here hanging out with me. The chair's too big for him so I just hold him in my wittle hand, pushing all the buttons, typing things, reading stuff. What a good little iPhone. I am NOT the cat lady! NO! I am the iPhone Chica! I could have used the iPhone, to, you know...call someone to go out to eat with me, but that's too much trouble. People are so unpredictable with their silly schedules, and work and kids and crap. iPhone always there! iPhone go to breakfast with me! Thank you iPhone!

Oh look...here's the real food. The only thing I ever order at Lucille's...Eggs Pontchatrain...oh how I love thee! Let me count the ways! I love your yummy pan fried trout and your fluffy scrambled eggs and your down south grits and your rich hollandaise sauce. Right now you are my besttttt friend and I will eat you all up!



So breakfast is done, jury duty out of the way for another year...now it's time to go home, where I'll sit next to a lazy dog on the couch, watch crappy tv shows on netflix and write things to people on my laptop. Eventually this excitement will be just too much for me and I will require a long nap because after all, I have an overnight shift to look forward to at the good old police department. Yay for having a job! YAYYY!!! And boooo for having a shitty schedule. BOOOO!!!

Stupid Light Bulbs...And Other Things I Wanna Punch!

I know the day has gone to hell in a handbasket when I find myself telling the pencil I just dropped to fuck off. Stupid pencil better learn his place! I came up with a theory recently...bear with me. Ok, I think the days where everything goes wrong are actually worse than a really truly bad day. What's a really truly bad day? Your dog dies. That's a really bad fucking day. Crash your car into a telephone pole? Yes...also a bad day. But here's the thing...on these truly awful days you have a real tangible reason to be pissed off or sad. But on pencil dropping days, you're stomping around the house mad at the world for no good reason. And people are all...hey, why are you in a bad mood? And really, the only appropriate response to that is I DON'T KNOW! Now fuck off! You and the pencil can both go to hell!

You laugh, but you know you've been there. I'm there today. Welcome to my hell. My kitchen light burnt out. Mere annoyance. I can deal with that...change the bulb and I'm on my way. But noooooo, it can't be that simple, now can it? Brand new light bulbs installed, I flip the switch and damn it all to hell if there ain't no light coming out of them!!! Hmm...check the breaker (note: I know this is not the problem, but decide to go look at the little fuse thingys anyway) all is good in the breaker box...so my next course of action is to stomp back inside the house and flip off the kitchen light as hard as I can with BOTH HANDS!!! Grrrrr!!!



I went to the doctor yesterday and the nice lady at the front desk asked for my insurance card. I handed it over, somewhat nervously, because I am on a new health insurance plan. All I could think was pleeeease accept my insurance, I looove my doctor. The last thing I need is one more FUCKING change I didn't sign up for. She entered the info and asked if my ex was still the primary subscriber and I had to of course explain to ONE MORE PERSON that doesn't really need to know, that, no...he's long gone and I'm the primary. So then she looks at me over the top of her glasses and says, "well then, whoooo will your emergency contact be now?" I wanted to yell at her "NO-FUCKING-BODY!!!!" How about THAT you snarky tip of the nose glasses wearing office lady? How about THAT! I decided against that after having a moment of clarity. I said, "Keep my ex as the emergency contact, HE can deal with my dead body!" Yeah, stick it to the mannnnnnnn!!!! Hahahaha! (Side note: I don't really know who the man is, thus I'm not sure who will have it "stuck to them.")

Sigh...I just went to make myself a bowl of cereal. I like cereal. It is delicious. Also a good snack late at night when cooking is out of the question. I opened the drawer to grab a spoon and to my surprise there are only big spoons left, the small spoon slot left bare yet again. Fucking big spoon, AGAIN?? Whyyyyy???? Why me? Why do I ALWAYS get stuck with the spoon so big I have to open wiiiiide for every bite? Oh oh, I get it...it's a fat joke. Haha, joke's on me! Chubby girl gets the big spoon. That's a good one. Maybe I'll start hiding a small spoon just for me. MAYBE. I. WILL. But then...I'd probably forget where I hid it...and then...I'd hide another small spoon and forget where I hid that one. This isn't going anywhere good. Maybe I'll just stop eating things that require spoons. That'll show those big spoons! They'll never get used again. Muwahahahahaha!!!

After a day like this, filled with stupid light bulbs, dumb ass spoons, and obnoxious pencils, I just wanna come home, climb into bed and chat with my friends who live inside my computer box. Avoiding the real world? Maybe. Cat lady-like behavior? Could be. Do I care??? Noooooo. (Ok, maybe a little.)

How I Got Somethin' For Free...And Other Amusing Things I Like To Blame On My Divorce....

Ugh...I trade my shame for your amusement...

Most days start off for me like this..."hey, didn't we have that one thing we had to do today...at that...um...place?"

This post on pause for the following reason: 13 year old daughter just walked up to me, laid her head on the dining table and said, "Mom...you're gonna be a cat lady. You need to get OUT there...I mean, not to the bars, mom, but NOT on facebook or online or whatever, ok?" Well fuckity fuck fuck fuck and excuuuuuse me! I'll just go drink a big fat glass of tequila and pass out so I can forget what a LOSER I am because I don't have a boyfriend.

Disclaimer: I will not be drinking any tequila because I don't want my momma to be disappointed in me. Also. Puking. I don't like that.

Update: I did drink the tequila. (Sorry Mop, and Pop, if that sorta thing matters to you.) Sometimes, and holy shit, it's not often, you just wanna be like, hey! Let's have a drink and forget all the stupid shit that happened today. And then, next thing you know, you're sad and pathetic and you have to be up in 3 hours and your best friend is NOWHERE to be found and you're all, why did I drink this nasty shit? Oh yeah, to forget. Forget about what? I dunno. Fuck, I already forgot. See? Mission accomplished!

Yay! All is forgotten...except the following dumb ass things...

1. I took Danika to a cheerleading class today that she wasn't enrolled in. Yeah, see, THAT is how I get free shit. See, what had happened was, I didn't talk to Ben and you know, ask him when her class ended, so I brought her today like a TOTAL dumb ass and the teacher asked to talk to me after class. And I was like, uh oh! What did I do...so I texted Ben, and I'm like, is this class over and he's all yeah and I'm all like shit, because she's in there now, cheering away! Hahaha! Joke is on me. But, whatever, cuz...free class!

2. I am watching Ben's girlfriend's dog while they go away for the week together. Does that make me a pushover? Maybe it does. MAYBE. IT. DOES. But, ya know what? One day, I'm gonna need a HUGE ass favor, ya know? And they'll be all...remember how nice and AWESOME Ginger has always been? She watched our ugly dog! What a pal! Yeah, THAT is how it is going to go down...and then they'll be all...we'll fuckin' do anything for her! She is the best ex-wife EVERRRRRRRR!!! You think this shit happens by accident...nope! I have a plan. Be nice and some good shit is gonna happen. Mmmmhhhmmmmm!!! Yes it will!!!

3. I forgot what I was doing here. What are these numbers for?

4. See, I was sitting at the dining table tonight typing to some friends and listening to music and hanging out while Rocky worked on a school project. I thought we were having fun. And then. BLAM. Out of nowhere, we were most certainly NOT having fun! Rocky laid her head on the dining table and said in the most serious kidding voice she could muster, "Mom, you are going to be the cat lady. You need to get out. Not to bars, Mom, and not on facebook or the internet either!" Well great...OMG, I just realized I already told this story at the top of the page! See kids? THIS is what tequila does to you. It steals your short term memory.

5. Ok, so I am trying to figure out what a boyfriend is good for. Because I'm thinking adding an extra person will be kiiind of a headache. Like for example, dinner. I'll have to start saying, "honey, what do you want for dinner?" When, really, I don't give a rat's ass what he wants for dinner. Also, he might want to watch something on tv I hate. FAIL! What if he has too many clothes and they won't fit in my closet? I mean, really...I think that's automatic grounds for a break up, don't you? What if he's messy and leaves his crap everywhere, like socks in the dining room. OMG, even worse! What if he's a neat freak! I am a slob at heart! I can't deal with a neat freak! All the messes I make must be able to be blamed on him, a neat freak would know he didn't leave out a bowl of guacamole and a half drank root beer overnight, but a slob? He'd be like...hmmm...maybe I did that and then I could be like yes you did! You ALWAYS leave guacamole out and I have to clean up after you! You owe me, you piggggggg!!! Yeah! That'll show him!!

6. Ok, things a boyfriend would be good for. I can do this, hold on. Ok, like when I am out with friends and every last mother fucker there is coupled up, if I had a boyfriend then I could be like, ha ha ha hee hee hee, we have our own private jokes and they are soooo funny! Ya know, I could stop being the third wheel. Also...food. If he had something delicious to eat I could be like, hey, boyfriend, lemme have a damn bite of that, that looks gooood, and he'd be like, yessssss, because he is my boyfriend and that is what they DO! Ooooh! He could drive! Yessss!!! OMG, I want a driver! Please! Ok, I will totally take a boyfriend if he will drive. Sold! Broke stuff. He could fix broke stuff! OMG, I am soooo happy about this boyfriend, hahahaha! You know why? Because I am freaking SICK of fixing broke stuff! Broke stuff = man's job, and as far as I know, I am not, nor never have been a man!!!

7. I changed my mind. All that stuff on #6. I can do that myself. None of that crap is worth the heartbreak when the lousy SOB leaves and breaks my fragile lil heart. (See that...that was bitterness there, yeah, I have a little. And it just came out. Which means...it must be time for bed. FML.)

I just realized I didn't talk about anything in this post I meant to. In fact, I don't even freaking remember what I had planned to write at all. Instead I ended up with this crap??? Really???

Oh! The tomato seed! Rocky hates tomatoes. We went to Applebee's. She ordered food. There was a tomato seed on her plate. She gingerly (see what I did there? haha) wiped it on her napkin. About 5 minutes later, the tomato seed was on her wrist. She wiped it on the table. A few minutes after that the tomato seed was on her arm. Hahahaha, at this point I was giggling. Because up until that moment, tomato seeds were not humorous in the least. But now? Freaking hilarious! Finally, she flinged (flung?) the seed across the restaurant. I didn't see where it went, but I bet it landed somewhere and some other tomato hater is gonna go home with that tomato seed plastered to their arm, LOL!!!!