Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The One I Forgot To Tell You About

This was suppose to be included in part 2 of "My Best Friend aka The One Who Helps Me Hide The Bodies" post and I forgot so it gets it's very own post. I think it deserves it as it one of her better acts of tom foolery.

As I told you in part 1, we moved here and met on the same day and lived across the street from each other. My house was slightly larger than hers and had a different layout. One of those neighborhoods where someone came in and used only two floorplans to build the entire place. Mine was set up with the master bedroom on one end of the house and the other two bedrooms on the other end so sex for me was not a problem, well at least not because of my house layout, my husband being gone at the time on a military mission did cause it to come to an abrupt standstill. Rebecca's house, on the other hand was set up with all the bedrooms right next to each other, causing major issues with her sex life. This was back in the day, before they both laid in bed at night and thought of ways to kill each other and hide the body so they wouldn't get caught instead of places to have sex. I had two children at the time, Rebecca being a faster breeder than I was and quite possibly her wider hips might have had some influence on her rapid succession breeding. She doesn't agree, but that is another story and an ongoing debate between us for the last 30 years. Her husband was already out of the military and working for a local company here that ran three shifts (my husband later went to work for the same company, we felt it was safer for us to keep them confined to the same area during the same time periods, less chance of them catching up with us that way).

At any rate finding not only time while swinging back and forth between three different shifts, the amount of teacup humans they had to try and avoid and the sheer layout of their house, sex was not always easy. I am taking her word for this since I have never personally tried to have sex in her house. Well there was that one time I looked out her bedroom window and her neighbor flashed his penis at me, but I'm not sure that really counted. One night they decided to have sex in the living room. Now nothing wrong with that, come on, stop blushing we have all tried it in various places from time to time. Oh and for my email stalkers who love to write and tell me how offensive I am at times, if you fire emails at me over this post I am going to write in graphic detail every single place I have ever had sex in my reply to you. So you decide which is less embarrassing to read, this post or my reply email.

Now our living rooms had a street facing window that was huge. Wall to wall, ceiling to floor. For some unknown reason other than she might be slightly skewed she did not close the curtains that night. I'm not really sure if it would have made a difference in what happened or not, one of those mysteries of life we will never know.

The scene: Approx 1:00am

My house: My children and I had been asleep for hours.

Their house: They were doing the nasty, naked as jay birds in the living room floor.

My house: Suddenly there is a huge explosion, it was so loud you couldn't really tell where it was coming from, the houses all shook. Now my bedroom was in the back of my house so I couldn't see anything outside in the front, all I could think of was my furnace had exploded and I had to get to my kids and get them out of the house. Clothing for me was nothing I even gave a thought too, as we have discussed in previous posts my night time attire leaves a lot to be desired and is quite possibly the reason I have cobwebs in my vagina. Let's just say my sense of night time fashion was the same then as it is now, along the lines of lime green flannel pj's with monkey's all over them. So I just ran, grabbed my grumbling kids, who never even woke up during the explosion and ran out the front door. I quickly looked to make sure it wasn't my friend's house only to see her running stark naked down the middle of the street screaming "Get out! Get out an airplane is crashing!" WTF? An airplane? I didn't see an airplane in the sky, on the ground or coming in my direction.

I looked over and saw Bill and the kids standing calmly in their front yard calmly watching her run down the street, as were almost everyone that lived on the street, except the deaf guy, he missed the whole event. I walked across the street and ask him why the hell she was running down the street naked screaming about airplanes crashing. She is by now out of sight but we can still hear her yelling. He explains:

In the middle of doing the bump and grind comes that explosion, being in the front of the house and with the curtains wide open Rebecca looks up to see a huge ball of fire moving fast. From the angle of her house it looked like it was going to crash through her window right into her house. For some reason, known only to her, she thinks it's an airplane crashing. She screams at Bill to get the kids, two of which were already awake and running down the hallway and out the door she goes to warn the neighbors. She actually forgot she was naked. So I tell him to go get her, he tells me to go get her. The neighbors are looking at us both knowing he is her husband and I am her best friend. All of our kids are literally rolling on the ground laughing. We look at each other and know that ground is not going to open up and swallow us to hide our embarrassment. I decided I had to go get her, Bill throws a blanket my way just as I was getting in the car here she comes walking just as calmly as she could back up the road, naked as can be. I ask her later why she didn't just hide behind something and wait on one of us to come and get her. She said she figured by then she had already made such an ass out of herself that walking back wasn't going to hurt her dignity anymore. She was right.

The explosion? Just a transformer that blew on a power pole and sent a ball of fire down the power line. It was a rather large and impressive fire ball, even the power company agreed, but I still don't get how she saw an airplane out of it.

Before I end this I want to send you over to my good friends new blog, Jay isn't quite the idiot I am, he writes beautiful poetry, has been through a lot and his reawakening has been a little dark but he is a good writer and reading about his journey can be a learning experience for us all and a lesson in not judging by what you see or hear:

Monday, July 30, 2012

Deep In The Hood With Grape Koolaide

My friend and I were sitting on her porch the first night she moved in discussing if we ever thought we would want another man in our lives (btw we decided not so much), of course we had certain criteria that must be met. He had to have money, no former wife or children and be totally devoted to us. Then my friend looks at me and says "Look around, how fast do you think we are going to meet that man?" We looked around at our surroundings and came to the conclusion it will be when hell freezes over. We are on her porch, she has just moved in so our patio "furniture" consisted of one green plastic chair, one white plastic chair that takes a special performance to sit in as it is cracked and could at any moment dump your ass to the concrete and we have a wooden tv tray between us. Our hor dourves consisted of pre-packaged cheddar cheese cubes, Ritz crackers, a jar of peanut butter with one knife stuck in it, some saltine crackers with the wrapper split all the way down, two Hershey candy bars, 2 chicken legs left over from lunch at KFC and a bag of peanut M&M's. Drinks were two glasses of grape Koolaid because we were too lazy to go to the store for anything else and that was all she had in the house. I am dressed in my best gray sweat pants with the legs cut off at the knee and a Tshirt that says "Whatsssupp!", she has on her best shorts with the ripped pocket and a polo shirt with all three buttons missing. Oh and let's not forget my bare feet and her mismatched flip flops (the dog took off with one so she just grabbed another one as we went out the door for our evening of patio man planning, a green one and a blue one). All evening we had been thinking her new neighbors were being rude and rather uppity, hell they were probably terrified. Face it we looked like we came from the hood, deep in the hood. Even the rednecks are a little afraid of the hood. Yo!

So as we sat there in all our glory we start to weigh our options. What is really out there to choose from so we take a quick survey of the neighborhood. In front of one apartment is a pick up truck with the camouflage logo "Mossy Oak" emblazoned across the top half of the front windshield. Some suspicious looking dried substance that had at one time been dripping down the side of the truck bed. He was ruled out quickly.

Then we see another pick up, it's not that we are only scouting the pick up trucks, but we are in redneck country and they far outweigh the ratio to cars. This one looks nice, Dodge Ram, then I notice the horns attached to the hood and I would bet my life that when he honks his horn it plays "Dixie". He's out.

Finally we spot a car, but it has huge rims, primer paint in some places and mud flaps so we just know that romance is dead before it even has a chance to start. We just can't deal with the mud flaps.

She grabs my arm and says "Look, over there, right under the street light is a Benz!" We decide to watch the Benz closely.

Then of course there are three or four, we stopped counting, soccer Mom SUV's complete with the bumper sticker's "My kid is number 47" or "My kid can kick your kids ball" so they immediately fall under the no wife, no kids rule and we move on.

We are still keeping an eye out on the Benz.

Next we see a dark green pick up, I'm quite sure the name of the paint for that model is "Better to Hunt In" since there is a gun rack and guns in the back window. He is out immediately because we aren't dealing with anything dead until the Zombie Apocalypse comes and we are forced too and neither of us are attracted to squirrel tail coats.

Suddenly from out of nowhere came Billy Ray Cyrus chasing a naked kid across the parking lot. At least we assumed it was Billy Ray, sometimes all those mullets just run together and everyone looks alike. I mean he was clean and everything, which was more than we could say for some we saw, but for God's sake he had a fucking mullet!

We smell something really good, my friend looks at me and says "This just might be the one, food is always a big motivator in the love department." So we decide to get up and walk down the side walk a bit and follow the smell. We found it just about the time we hear a loud screeching woman yell "Johnny Bill, you did remember to put the Jack Daniels in the sauce didn't you?" He screeches back "Sure did, I'd never forget that." At which she replies "Well, if you don't need the rest of this bottle I'm just gonna drink it on down." Realizing that Jack Daniels would have to become a part of our regular diet to just look at Porky every morning and neither one of us being drinkers we decided that wasn't going to work for us either.

We are still watching the Benz.

On the way back to our elaborate patio set up we saw a woman sitting on the couch they had placed on their patio, breast feeding two babies at once. Only they weren't really babies, the youngest looked at least 4 and the oldest at least six. Then out the slamming screen door comes yet another child about 2 or 3 screaming "It's my turn now!" I told my friend to hurry up because the husband probably wasn't far behind and I wasn't sure my cheese and crackers would stay down if I had to witness that.

We make it back to the safety of our grape Koolaid and hor dourves, well first we made a quick trip in the house to grab some ice cream from the freezer, one container, two spoons, nothing fancy about us, we were fitting right in. We thought it might be a good survival tactic.

I finally looked at her and said "How long is your lease for here, did they not tell you about these people before you signed it? Could you not see them?" She replied "No, I think they are a lot like roaches they only come out at night and I was here in the daytime. I only signed a one month, can you come get me tomorrow and help me find something else?" I said "Of course I will as soon as we make sure the man in the Benz isn't a prospect. Now hand me some more of that damn grape Koolaid before they think we are becoming civilized and attack us!"

Then I spot him, the man with the Benz. Headed toward his car, all 4' 6", 92 lbs of him. I could be off a little on the height, it was hard to tell with the street light glaring off his bald head. Another prospect down the drain. I could live with the bald head, I happen to find a bald head sexy but the height and weight was a deal breaker for the both of us, he would never have survived the night with either of us.

We decide it is now time to move inside for safety reasons, immediately upon opening the door we saw a giant roach run across her floor. That was it, we were out of there and went back to my house to spend the night. She actually stayed with me until her lease was up and we found her a very nice apartment.

We are now taking a different direction and have decided maybe the life of a Sister Wife isn't so bad. Only we want to be the 8th and 9th wife so we never actually have to have a "night" with the poly husband. Oh and we ain't babysitting no screaming kids from the other wives either, been there, done that with our own, not about to do it all over for someone else's screaming brats. Again, there we go putting restrictions on our love lives!

Saturday, July 28, 2012

My Best Friend aka The One Who Helps Me Bury The Bodies pt 2

Rebecca needs money to pay the power bill by the next morning or it will be cut off. Did I mention the girl has no idea how to manage money? So her husband, remember we are calling him Bill for this blog, has a gun that he dearly loves. I hated the gun because I honestly always lived with the fear that someday she would take all she could from his hateful ass self and use it against him. She decides to pawn the gun, but the guy at the pawn shop knows her and she doesn't want him telling Bill. So she has me pawn the gun for her. Now, I have never pawned anything in my life so this was a whole new experience for me. He asks questions, I assume he asked the correct ones, I answer, again assuming I give the right answer. I show him my permit to carry a concealed weapon (I worked with 2 of the best Private Eyes in the business at the time which is why I even had the permit, did I mention I am a damn good shot? I was trained well, one of my PI's was a former sniper and he trained me). So he takes the gun, says we can pick it back up tomorrow morning. Bill checks this gun everynight like he is going to make love to it so her challenge was to keep him away from the gun cabinet by pretending she couldn't find the key and distracting him all evening. We get up bright and early the next morning and go to retrieve the gun, different guy in the shop. He refuses to let me have the gun because I have an English accent(because the English are such a violent group of people and responsible for all stolen guns in the US apparently, at least in his eyes) and demands proof of my ID. Driver's license, gun permit, SS card, PI license none of those satisfy him, he wants my birth certificate. Naturally I can't find it and have to call my Mom to send me one. Only problem is she can't get a copy and get it sent to me that fast, it will take at least a week. Yet Jose standing beside me is able to pick up an assault rifle that his brother-in-law pawned six months ago, no citizenship papers, barely spoke English and had no pawn ticket. I threw a proper English fit to no avail. I still had to wait on the birth certificate. Now she has to figure out how to hide it from Bill for an entire week. Bill got a lot of special treatment that week. It was just a miracle I guess that the key was found the very day my papers came in the mail.

Bill had a son from a previous marriage that was the devil incarnate and determined to break up their marriage so he Dad would go back to his Mom. He decides he wants to move in with his Dad. He was old enough to know better at 16 but he launched a hate campaign that was unbelievable, told his Dad lies about Rebecca being mean to him (when in all truth she went out of her way to make him welcome and feel at home). We thought being the Mama's baby he was that he wouldn't last long and would head back to his Mama's house. Not so, we finally figured out he was firmly entrenched and we also figured out he was enjoying the chaos he was causing in the house between Rebecca and Bill and the children they had together. We decided it was time for Dude to leave. But she didn't want to tell Bill his own child wasn't welcome there. So we decided to turn the tables on ole' Dude, make him want to flee back to his Mama's house leaving nothing behind but his dust. So every night at dinner she would make Kool-Aid and pour it into the glasses herself. She would put each child's glass down by their plate and then at the last minute in a panicky voice quickly grab Dude's glass and say "No wait, that is the wrong one, this one is yours" and swap it for one of the other kids glasses. She would do the same with his food. About a week of this and he thinks she is trying to poison him and won't eat or drink anything she has touched. He was a very heavy sleeper so every morning about 5 am I would head across the street to her house and with the kid in bed, sound asleep we would totally rearrange his room. When he would get up for school and notice the bed was on the opposite wall, the dresser moved and ask about it we would get up and go to his room to look and then tell him it looked just like it did the night before when he went to bed. We did this every day for 2 weeks, now he thinks she is trying to poison him and the house is haunted. Next we would wait until he went to bed at night and alter his clothes, make his pant legs and shirt sleeves shorter, move the buttons over so the shirt was tighter to button up. Now the kid thinks he is not only being poisoned and the house is haunted but he is growing abnormally too. We had him out of their in about a month, he hi tailed it back to Mama's house so fast he was a blur.

Two of our boys were the same age, a month apart and had become fast friends. You never saw one without the other, well except for the night we had to seperate them for the trip to the emergency room when they played the BB gun dance. They were about 12 yrs old at the time and had found a clearing in the woods they thought would be a great hang out for them. A most secret place where no parents could go because they didn't know where it was. We sat back and watched them collect old items the neighbors were throwing away and disappear into the woods with it. One day while they were at school we decided to take a trek through the woods to find the hangout. It didn't take us long. They really did an impressive job. Had a whole little living room sat up, complete with an area rug, sofa, chair, coffee table, two end tables and some knicknacks. You really didn't think we were going to leave them alone did you? No way. Every day while they were at school we hit the hide out and rearranged all their stuff, take something away or add something new. Now this is a secret place so they can't tell us what is happening. One night they wanted to camp out at their hideout, that was fine with us, we knew where it was and it was very close to the house if you used the route we did (they never discovered the route we used so it took them twice as long to get there and they thought they were much farther away then they actually were). So we wait until about midnight, dress all in black and do nothing but randomly walk the perimeter of their hideout. They kept seeing the "shadows" but couldn't tell what it was. Then I started growling, I swear you have never seen two boys run so fast in your life. The next day we told them it was us doing everything it all along. We just wanted to have some fun with them not take away their hang out spot.

So Rebecca has an uppity sister, who is also a criminal, similar to my own sister, which is whey we claim each other and not them. But her sister thought she was the creme de la creme of society and loved putting on airs. I really hate people that put on airs. She invited us to an afternoon tea with some more high society ladies. We were overjoyed at the prospect of high tea and the chance to mingle with high society. NOT But we went, just not quite as ourselves. We went thrift store shopping and picked out the ugliest outfits we could find that didn't fit us. Then showed up to the tea "fashionably late" so everyone would see us. Of course we made terrible asses out of ourselves with our bad manners, slurping tea, dropping crumbs. It was like the Beverly Hillbillies went to vist Paris Hilton. We had so much fun but for some unknown reason we were never invited back.

Then one early morning I got the call I had been dreading. Over the past two years they were together Bill had started becoming not only his usual verbal abusive self but he became physically abusive. I know my friend well and knew she would not put up with it long. He was one of those that after it was over he acted like it had never happened. For about three months he had been unusually mild, when I ask about it she told me she had been spiking his coffee every morning with Valium and he stayed in a pleasant mood all day and night. I'm all for that if it worked, if you knew Bill you would have been all for it too. He didn't have time for coffee that day so he didn't get his "dose", he came in and started on her and the kids. It escalated throughout the night, no one slept. As soon as the kids left for school, after he had tried to choke her, had given her a black eye and bit her several times she politely offered to fix him coffee. Of course in his mind it had never happened and he was once again ruler of his kingdom. Then I get the call and she says "I think you might need to come up here, I think I killed Bill this time, I can't rouse him at all", I can't even imagine the panic I was in when I drove to her house. I just knew she had finally shot him with his own beloved gun and I was terrified. I ask where he was and she told me he was in bed. So I ran back to the bedroom expecting a mess and trying to figure out who to call first and what they would do to her. But there he laid, all in once piece. I barely can get a pulse but at least I had one, I sent her to my car for my medic bag after she tells me she only spiked his coffee, she just gave him a "few extra" this time. He is breathing on his own, but his heart rate and blood pressure are low. She didn't give him enough to kill him but he did end up having one of the best naps of his life with me sitting right beside his bed for 8 straight hours, afraid to leave in case he did crash. While I watched him she went to see an attorney and filed for a divorce and restraining orders and then brought charges on him for the abuse. As soon as he groggily woke up he was carted off to jail, found guilty and spend some time there, out of all our hair finally. Of course he made a full recovery and thank God I no longer have to worry about what she is going to do to him. I ask her why she did it, she said she didn't do it to kill him just to shut him up and make him sleep long enough for her to go see the lawyer and file charges. She got that accomplished all right but I damn near had a heart attack over the whole thing.

I have strict instructions upon her death, if she is in the hospital I am not to go. As soon as they call me I am to go straight to her house and empty out the lock box, I am the only other one with the key. Then I can go to the hospital or the funeral home. During the funeral I am to stand at the head of her casket and everyone that walks by and says "Doesn't she look good" I am to reply "Not, really she looks pretty dead to me." For those that give the old standard "My they really did a good job making her look like herself, didn't they?", I am to respond "As long as you don't turn her over and look at the back, they never prepare the back." I am to ask for private time with the body (easy since her family owns the funeral home)at which time I am to put all contents from the lock box in the bottom of the casket with her, I know what every single item in there is, it's nothing illegal, just stuff she doesn't want her children to know. She is so serious about this that it makes me laugh hysterical every time she brings it up.

God I love that woman!

Thursday, July 26, 2012

My Best Friend aka The One Who Helps Me Bury The Bodies pt 1

Since you all had to listen to me rant and rave yesterday and I can't in all honesty promise it won't happen again I wanted to lighten it up some today. So let me talk about my best friend who I love beyond reason because if I say I don't she will tell all my secrets and I might end up in jail with Big Bertha and me being issued an orange jumpsuit two sizes too small. I do need to give a quick explanation of both our husbands temperaments. Mine before he turned back into a teenager and began drinking was a very gentle, never complained, loving, non selfish person who never raised his voice and always put his family first. Her's on the other hand was the exact opposite. He complained about everything, yelled about everything, cussed about everything and life was all about him and what he wanted, Rebecca and the kids came somewhere about 15 of his list of important things.

We met 30 yrs ago when we both had just gotten married 2 days apart the month before, moved to this new city within 2 days of each other and just happened to move across the street from each other. Both of us had been married before so immediately we had ex husband bashing in common, we both had two children from those first unions who became immediate friends and allies against the world, we both wore a size 1 in clothes so we finally had someone to swap clothes back and forth with for the first time in our lives. Most of all we had a penchant for getting into messes that took both of us to get out of, most of which we created ourselves without meaning too. Although there are many, many times we did stuff with both eyes wide open . But we were in our very early 20's and worrying about what might happen later never occured to us. We were instant friends within a weeks time and now after all these years we are more like sisters than friends. I know what she is thinking, can finish her sentences and she can do the same for me. We have shown up many times wearing the exact same clothes without either knowing what the other was going to wear. Our dream is to someday move to a cottage in Maine, away from kids (we have not decided if we are sharing the address with them or not), we intend to sit behind our picket fence cuss out and flip off everyone that walks by. A lot of these are not in order because to be honest we have done so much it gets confusing as to when we did what.

Our first true bonding experience, and the day I knew were were kindred spirits meant to be together came about 2 months into our friendship. Rebecca, I will call her that because she that name, was in a minor car accident. I get a call from the hospital, she is refusing to let them touch her until she talks to me and I get to the hospital. I can hear her yelling in the background to give her the fucking phone. They do. She runs them out of the room. She says "Get here fast and bring a pair of your underwear!" I go flying to the hospital, I get there and she won't let anyone in the room but me. She then pulls her pants off and I see she has on a pair of her husband's tidy whities. I ask why, she told me it was because she didn't feel like doing laundry that morning so she just put on a pair of his underwear, she didn't want the staff to know she was wearing mens underwear so we hastily swapped them out. I don't think the staff ever realized what her urgency was since she only had a scraped knee and a small cut on her thigh.

We were military and my husband was on a mission, her husband worked for a local company. I had to use military insurance that wasn't accepted at the local hospitals so had to drive 30 minutes to get to a military base for care. Usually not a problem until two of our brightest children decided one night about 10:00 pm to see who could dance the fastest while they shot at each others feet with a BB gun. My son lost and was shot through the foot. But it wasn't a clean shot I could clean up and move on with, the BB didn't come out so I knew it was either embedded in muscle or bone, either way it was a dirty wound and the BB would have to be removed. We don't want to drive to the military base so we decide to "swap" kids, we grilled the kid all the way to the hospital as to what he was suppose to say if ask his name (her son's name of course), had the whole thing planned out. We get there and sign him in under her sons name and insurance, so far so good. Then we hit the obstacle of parent only in the room, which meant her and my son was not about to go without me. So she starts rambling like a drunken moose about how I am his favorite aunt and he likes me better than her and I have raised him most of his life because of her drinking problem(she is a total non drinker, like me) so I really needed to go in with them. They let us both in. Right off they ask his name and my son rambles off his real name, she reaches out and pops him in the back of the head and says "Not your nickname fool, your REAL name" The dr asks him why his nickname consists of a first, middle and last name. Rebecca chimes in with because when he was born she wanted to name him that but her husband didn't like it so she just decided to call him that as a nickname. I am looking at her in awe. Who gives a child a different last name for a nickname? By now I am thinking this is not going to work, one of those two idiots was going to get us caught for insurance fraud. Then they start asking about allergies, etc. she can't answer those questions so I do. The dr. said "But I thought you were his aunt" I came back with a whispered "Yes, but she drinks a lot and I have had to raise him, she doesn't know that much about him" So they start to take out the BB and ask my son how he was doing using her sons name, he knows the game by now only he can't remember the correct name to give them so he says my name is "Bob", I am about to die and thinking where the fuck did he get the name "Bob" from, the dr is totally confused as this is now the third name he has been presented with so I hastily explain that I didn't like his real name or his nickname so I just called him Bob. Finally it's over, we leave, the insurance paid and we laughed all the way home. Except for "Bob" who was passed out in the back seat on pain meds.

We decide to deliver telephone books, my husband by now had retired and was working for the same company hers did. The only thing was mine didn't want me to do it in the new Lexus. We assured him we wouldn't and as soon as he walked out the door get in the Lexus and take off to deliver phone books. The sun is blinding me so she says she will drive, she did, scraped the whole side of the first mail box we came to then turned, looked at me and said "that damn sun is strong, isn't it?" Now we only have three hours to get this car fixed in. We spend 2 hours and 45 minutes driving all over town being told it can't be done, it will have to wait until morning. So now comes the monumental task of hiding the damage until morning. Neither one of us can back up a car to save our lives but somehow we had to back it into the garage so when my husband comes in he can't see the side that is damaged. We managed to finally get it in there. The next morning my husband for the first time since buying the car decides he wants to drive it to work. I hurriedly ran around the other side and declared there wasn't enough room to open the door so he needed to just get in the passenger side and slide over to the drivers side. He does, and pulls out of the garage. I instantly start screaming at him that he has hit the side of the garage and damaged my new car. He fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Apologizing all over the place. Until he reads this blog he is stalking, he never new it wasn't really him but us that did the damage.

Another time Rebecca wanted a new dishwasher and her husband wasn't having it. So we decided to just do it anyway and take the consequences of his yelling and screaming when he saw it. We buy it, have it delivered and find out it has to have a plumber hook up a different line, no problem he can be there in an hour, still plenty of time. Until her husband decides to pop in for lunch. There it is in the middle of the kitchen floor. I hurriedly threw a table cloth on it, grabbed some canisters from the counter and placed on it and Rebecca puts a cute little vase with flower in it on it. Then I lean against it. Fool comes in, actually laid his sunglasses on top of it, ate lunch, talked with us and left, never once noticing the dishwasher out in the middle of the floor. It took him three months to realize he had a different dishwasher. But then what could you expect, he didn't notice the new television we bought for the bedroom for almost a year either, Rebecca just piled clothes around it so all he saw was the screen, he never noticed it was a lot bigger.

One day she finds a dress she wants so she spends the money for the cable bill on that dress and of course they turned off the cable. Her husband, we shall call him by the fictitious name of Bill, came home from work and turned on the television, of course it didn't work. She convinces him it is an outage and she would call them the next morning. Instead she calls me, we knew he would not believe the outage story another week until I got paid so I could give her the money to pay it with. We had to do better than that. So we get us a set of pliers and go to work on the cable line outside the house, but it was an old cable line that had been disconnected many years before and was just laying loose under the house. We unscrewed the new line and threw it up under the house. He comes in from work that night and she tells him a squirrel has chewed threw the line and the cable company had to order a part, it would be 4 or 5 days before they could have it fixed. He never new any better.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

How Do They Hate You, Let Me Count The Ways

I was asked today why my children seem to hate their father so much. Immediately the Elizabeth Barrett Browning sonnet 43 came to mind. Except instead of "How do I love thee, let me count the ways....." my interpretation was "How do they hate you, let me count the ways....." My suggestion would be you print this out, since I know your stalking this blog. Then some day when your a lonely old man wondering why your children and grandchildren never come around, pull it out and read it to refresh your memory. So let's get on with the count down!

1. The day you decided at age 54 that trying to be a teenager again was the life for you. Four little pairs of 10 yr old eyes and ears standing there as you said "I stayed as long as there was little children that needed me, now they are grown and I can go." How do you think that felt to two little boys, knowing you were refering to the older children and completely dismissing that they were still little children who needed you desperately? It told them they didn't count, that you felt they weren't worth anything. When you walked away from their mother whom they knew was sick and unable to work. That was when you planted the seed of hate.

2. Waking up the next morning to find out you had deliberately and without any reason anyone to this day can figure out, destroyed our car before you left so we had no transportation in a town where we also have no family to turn to for help and no way to buy another car? That we went two years without a car because of you. That was when you watered the seed.

3. Walking out the door without even telling them goodbye. The seed began to sprout.

4. Telling us you were making the house payments and finding out 4 months later when we got the foreclosure notice that you had not made a single one and it was too far gone for me to catch up. Then the scramble to try and find a place to move to and actually move with no car and no help. The seed sprouted again.

5. Knowing you make a tremendous salary in your chosen profession yet will tell them you have no money and are eating only sandwiches two days a week because your giving all your money to their mother when they ask for a new pair of shoes. They are not stupid, they knew better. Even more so 7 yrs later. The sprouts began to turn green.

6. Receiving huge income tax returns and refusing to give us our half so you can take vacations with your girlfriend to the Bahamas, Lake Tahoe to ski, cruises, etc. They haven't even been to see their out of state family in 7 yrs because we have to support your girlfriends vacation needs. The sprouts began to grow.

7. When they told you their mother was very sick with Lupus, on one of the rare times you answered the phone when they called, your response was to tell them all about your girlfriends diabetes. Did you really think they cared what she could and couldn't eat? The sprouts grew taller.

8. Not being here to teach them to drive a car, watch them play ball and making them have to answer the question "Where is your Dad and why do you never see him?" when they meet a new friend. The sprout has now become a small tree.

9. Seeing them three times in 7 yrs when you live less than 4 hours away and then every one of those times letting your girlfriend not only talk to them like they were stray dogs off the street but once accuse one of them of stealing a ring she mysteriously found later in her jewelry box. Trust me he didn't' have a great need for a ring with her name engraved on it surrounded by a giant flower. Unlike you he does have taste. The tree grew another two feet.

10. By now the hate has even soaked into the one that always thought you hung the moon and made the sun rise every morning. Your daughter. When she got the hysterical call to go pick him up because he was being screamed at by you and your girlfriend over the tacky ring and was so scared he locked himself in the bedroom to call her because she was closer to him in distance than I was, she isn't deaf, she heard every unpleasant and hateful word being screamed at him. It also didn't take her long to figure out your girlfriend made up the whole story. So now she hates both of you, she did at least like your girlfriend a little bit until then, but only because she bought her that jacket for Christmas the year before. Speaking of holidays they have never received a call or card for any holiday since you walked out of this door. Do you really think they want to see all the pictures you post of the holidays you spend with your girlfriend, her children and grandchildren and all the gifts you have gotten them? The tree has now grown three more feet.

11. Does it not tell you something when all the children and I still spend holidays with your family or they with us and your not invited? Did it not bother you that your mother is so ashamed of the way you have treated your children that she even changed churches so the people she has gone to church with since you were a baby don't ask about you? The tree sprouts are growing into limbs.

12. You bought the other children a car when they got their license, but can't even help the other two? The limbs on that tree are getting stronger.

13. Your grandchildren haven't heard from you in 5 yrs now, it really hurt one of them to find out you were in town last week, less than a block from where she lives and didn't bother go see them. The tree is now sprouting blossoms.

14. I don't have the energy to go into all the times you with your big salary have borrowed money from your grown children "until you can get back home and send it back to them" and then stuck them when they make less than a quarter of what you do. The tree has now grown 4 more feet.

15. The day you left your 20 yr old daughter alone in a house with three drunks who tried to rape her killed anything she ever felt for you. Only her quick thinking saved her. A fiance who had no qualms about hunting you down and possibly losing his law license when he beat you to the ground was a bonus. I just regret I didn't get to see him do it. The tree grew 6 more feet that day, the limbs became strong and flowers are beautiful. But beware the fruit.

I have a lot more reasons I could list but if you just think hard enough you will know them without being told. But one thing about that beautiful tree, have you ever heard the song "Lemon Tree?" It perfectly describes the tree you have nourished and let blossom.

When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me
Come here and take a lesson from the lovely lemon tree
Don't put your faith in love, my boy, my father said to me
I fear you'll find that love is like the lovely lemon tree

Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of that poor lemon is impossible to eat

Oh and about that college diploma and your cap and gown you left here for "safe keeping", well you might need to write the university and get a copy, as for the cap and gown I'm not sure if they use the same colors now, if not then you're just shit out of luck. All have met an unfortunate end. Not exactly sure how it happened, Jose Cuervo might be able to answer that one for you, I certainly have very little memory of that night.

Uh, the clothes you left here? Yeah, well they are kinda of gone too, maybe the mission I gave them too can round them back up for you. Now this one I remember very well, I did it just to be mean. No excuses.

Oh and another thing, the flag from your father's casket that you threw up in your brother's face so many times because you had it and he didn't? Well, he is now the proud owner of that flag, along with all other memorabilia you left here. It happened on one of those nights when I was doing just what the old commercial use to say "I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair!" I just decided to wash away all his belongings too.

My Day With The Mechanic

I have two subjects that will set me off on a tangent, religion and puppy mills. I don't like discussing either and am usually not very nice about it. Today I had the good fortune of being confronted by both, in the same place. What are the odds?

I have a good friend that has this insanely huge truck for reasons known only to himself and it needed tires. He ask if I would ride down with him and keep him company. Being with me on many occasions when my mouth has run amok I assume he figured it was safe to take me to a mechanics garage. How could I get in trouble or embarrass him there? He was so wrong and it's probably a safe bet that I won't be invited along when it comes time to change the oil.

It was hot so I seek out a shade tree to wait, my friend beside me. As we are sitting there in the grass fighting off the ants that were determined to get a look at the human vagina a guy rolls in on a bicycle with a flat tire. Now when you see a guy with black pants, white shirt and a black tie riding a bicycle in our area you already know your dealing with a Jehovah's Witness. Now let's get this straight, I am all for religion, but I have my own religion and I don't need you shoving yours down my throat. Although I do confess to looking at a Jehovah's Witness as a giant toy just waiting on me to play with it for a while. My friend starts to squirm, he knows me well. He mumbles that it is only a bicycle tire so it shouldn't take long and we won't have to have any contact with the poor unsuspecting soul. This just wasn't his day for being right. The mechanic is very busy and tells him it will take a bit so just find a cool spot to wait in (yeah, this was one of those high class mechanics without an air conditioned waiting room to wait in). He wanders over to us and sits down beside me and immediately starts to witness to me. My friend leans over and whispers in my ear "This would be a good day to NOT say the first thing that comes into your head." I look at him in amazement that after 20 yrs of knowing me he can still hold on to hope that this might be an option for me. It isn't. Besides I had a Jehovah's Witness to play with.

Me: "Why if only 144,000 of you are going to heaven are you all still out day and night recruiting more members? Once you reach your limit, which I am sure by now you have many times over, what do you to with the leftover members?"

Him: He has no answer for this.

Me: "Were you actually there when God told you his name was Jehovah? I mean did you hear it with your own ears? Because sometimes things get all screwed up like that whisper game where you whisper in one persons ear and they whisper to the person next to them and by the time it gets around the room it's a totally different thing. What if his name is really Bob and you guys have been calling him Jehovah all these years?

Him: Again no answer, but he is looking eagerly at the mechanic as if to telepathically ask him to please hurry and fix his tire.

Me: So you don't celebrate Christmas, you can celebrate all anniversaries and weddings but not Christmas, right?

Him: Right.

Me: You don't give gifts either, right?

Him: Right.

Me: Fuck, I am glad I am not one of you because I have my eyes on this pair of earrings I want for Christmas.

Him: Silence, but now his eyes are practically begging the mechanic to hurry up.

Me: In your religion you say that "God says we should not be judging anyone else. I agree whole heartily with that one. But then He says that humans look to the outward appearance and God looks at the heart. So if that is true why are you guys running around town on bicycles and dress clothes? According to you God doesn't care about the outward appearance so why not just be comfortable in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt? You could even put a logo on it, something like "I am a Jehovah's Witness and I am here to drive you crazy with my nonsense".

This was the point my friend pulled me away to another shade tree. Hell I was just getting warmed up. But there was an even better victim under that shade tree. A dog breeder, who is breeding about 8 different breeds, in all sizes at one time. In other words puppy mill material. I have nothing against good dog breeders, my grandfather bred Bloodhounds, my father bred Arabian horses and hunting dogs and I myself have bred English Bulldogs, Neapolitan Mastiffs and Great Danes (never at the same time, one breed at a time). A breeder needs to know that breed inside and out and all the breed specific illnesses, the breed standard for show, the background of each dog, etc. It's not something you just throw two dogs in a pen and hope they hook up and have puppies, if your doing it that way it is irresponsible breeding. I could tell within five minutes of conversation she had no clue about proper breeding or much at all about the breeds she was breeding. My friend saw disaster coming. I spent the next 30 minutes lecturing on irresponsible owners who backyard or cage breed. I so enjoyed my time, but unfortunately by the time she could really hate me her car was finished and she left. I start looking for my next victim.

It didn't take long. This time it was the mechanic, complete with the obligatory greasy butt crack. The only way a butt crack gets that damn greasy is if your scratching it with grease on your hands. We have now been waiting about 2 1/2 hours. It is now 10:30 am. He informs us that he had a cup of coffee that morning about 5:00 am and was now getting the "jitters" and needed to take time out to eat some shredded wheat cereal. Of course the nurse in me kicked in to inform him that if it had been that many hours since he had the coffee then the "jitters" were not from the coffee unless he possibly just ate the coffee by spoonfuls from the can in which case he would not only have had a good case of the "jitters" but also a severe case of diarrhea all morning and it would not be a sudden onset. My friend at this point just puts his head down between his legs to hide his face, wishing against all wishes he had just left my ass at home. I suspect, from the looks of him he went to the back and downed him some Jim Beam instead of shredded wheat cereal to get rid of his "jitters".

At the shop he as two adorable Boxer's one full grown and one 3 month old baby. I am sitting under the tree, because by this time my friend has forbid me to move to another location in fear of me finding another victim to occupy my time with. I am sitting, in the grass with my legs crossed Indian style when the baby boxer climbs into my lap and lays down for a nap. I am an animal lover so I am loving this, finally calm and not looking for a victim. But the mechanic just couldn't let me be, he just had to rile me up again. He comes over and says "Look I don't mind if you pet the dog but would appreciate if you don't pick it up. Last week I had a 3 yr old that picked it up and the puppy wiggled out of her arms onto the concrete and could have gotten hurt." I agreed with this, but had to point out the inconsistencies in his theory. Number one I was sitting down, in grass, not standing on concrete. Number two I did not pick up his dog, it crawled into my lap and went to sleep, obviously not wiggling. Number three if it fell out of my lap I seriously doubt the three inches onto soft grass would harm the puppy. I did however thank him for thinking I looked like a three year old but did have to ask if his vision was that bad did he think he was able to put on the $1,000 tires my friend was having installed without help.

Let's just say the mechanic and I didn't bond.

Friday, July 20, 2012

New Awards

I received this award from Lily at The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose

I also received this award from Lily at The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose
Probably because we both have children sired by the devil.

Crazy Mama gave this to me and I am suppose to tell you seven random things about me and then pass it along. We all know I am not good at following directions but I will do my best. Thank you for thinking of me Crazy Mama!

Hmmm.....7 random things about me, like I haven't bared my life enough on this blog!

1. My favorite food is asparagus. Probably why I am half crazy.

2. I go bat shit crazy when a smoke alarm goes off. You do not want to be the person standing beside me when this happens, I will claw you to death climbing up your back and screaming "Run, run you idiot" very loudly in your ear.

3. For months now I have had a stalker. He keeps showing up at my door asking to come in. I slam the door in his face. He shows up when I am on my balcony and takes my picture. Turns out I find out today he isn't a stalker after all, he has Alzheimer's and can't figure out why I won't let him in HIS house and thinks he is taking pictures of his daughter. Leave to me to not even be able to have a proper stalker!

4. I am absolutely crazy about my dogs

5. I have a pink rhinestone case on my cell phone, one of my sons swears it's because I think it makes me look like Paris Hilton.

7. Green is my favorite color

Now I must pass this award on to three people that follow me, since I just moved my blog and all my followers haven't gotten here yet this one is easy:

Nicole and Macho at Macho Minute

Dirty Cowgirl at Left Alone With a Full Moon

The Accessory Every Newborn Needs!

This one is going to be short but I have to share them before I forget and delete them from my phone. This is two text conversations between my nephew and myself today about 3 hours apart. Keep in mind they are babies having babies, my nephew is 18 and his girlfriend/fiance/ex fiance (I'm not sure this week, it changes almost daily) is also 18, but damn at some point common sense should have already kicked it, trust me when I tell you it hasn't. They are having a baby, she is 5 months pregnant. At least that is what the sonogram says, I am just assuming they went to an obstetrician that is smarter than either of them and can actually read a sonogram. Also keep in mind they are not southerners, here in the south this would not only be accepted but expected. But we are from the north by way of England so this type of thing is not top on our list of items you buy a newborn baby.

C: She won't even answer her phone.
(I'm still trying to process who the hell he is talking about when he fires another one at me.)

C: And she won't pay me...how am I suppose to eat?
(I have by now figured out he is talking about my sister whom in all their wisdom the courts have dropped all charges against so she is now free to write more bad checks. She had promised him gas money if he would pick her up at the jail and take her back to her house, then didn't pay him.)

Me: Where are you now?

C: At Burger King, eating lunch

Me: Then why are you worried about eating, you obviously had money to eat lunch on, you have a job.

C: But I will need to eat 3 or 4 more times before the day is over.

Me: I don't know, call her, text her or go beat on her door until she gives you the money. I can't do anything about it from down here.

C: OK, I thought that is what you would tell me to do.

Me: Then why did you text and ask me, why not just go ahead and do it?

C: I just wanted to be sure.

Me: Then go do your thing, I'm busy right now.

C: OK, talk to you later, I love you.

Me: I love you too.

Then 3 hours later this one comes through:

C: I'm getting Levi (unborn baby's name) a gun today!!!!

Me: No

C: Yes

C: 243
(type of gun)

Me: No

Me: He needs a crib, a car seat, a stroller, bottles, clothes, diapers and a lot of other stuff but he doesn't need a gun.

C: He will get all that stuff

Me: Where from?

C: Other family members will buy that kind of stuff

Me: And you think he is only going to need it one time? Diapers and formula are needed for a lot longer than the amount you get at a baby shower. Plus he will grow fast and need even more stuff a long time before he needs a gun.

C: But he needs a gun

Me: Not now he doesn't. You have got to get your priorities in order and think of him. A gun is not necessary for his survival or well being at this time.

C: What if he is hungry and has to kill something to eat?
(This was my favorite of all his stupid comments today)

Me: He isn't even born yet and when he is it will be your responsibility to feed and cloth him, not his. A gun isn't going to mean jack shit to him now, he just wants a dry butt and formula. Besides how many newborns have you seen out hunting down and killing their own food?

C: Not enough
(My second favorite comment of the day, especially considering he is dead cold serious in all his comments)

Me: It's time to be Levi's Daddy and put his needs first. Grow up C, no newborn "needs" a fucking gun.

C: Mine does

Me: No C, he doesn't

C: Yes, he does

Me: Be responsible, a gun for a newborn is foolish, he has no idea what it even is. You get him a gun and your simply buying it for yourself, to be able to say he has one, he doesn't give a shit about your ego either. How many dead kids do you think I have seen come through the trauma bay because their parents thought they needed and were old enough to handle a gun? Hundreds, almost all of them are dead the rest are maimed for life.

C: But it's a youth model and I can take the firing pin out in 10 seconds...it's my decision so please stop trying to make me sound like a bad parent.

Me: And if that gun isn't under lock and key and the bullets in a totally separate area and no one is standing right beside him he can pick that gun up and shoot himself or another child in that 10 seconds too. If you don't want my opinion then don't ask me, you know I don't shoot bullshit or sugar coat anything. If you want that, go talk to your own mother, she can dish it out in abundance. See I could give you one of her rehearsed, don't bother me answers if you like: "Oh C, that sounds like a great idea, now can you get out of my way I have a bad check to write" If that is what you want then why the hell are you bothering me with this nonsense?

C: I'm not a bad parent because I want to buy my kid a gun

Me: Actually C your not even a parent yet, the child is only 20 weeks gestation so I guess this gets you the award for "Bad Parent of a Pre-Natal Child", I will upgrade that title when he is actually born if you do something stupid like go buy that gun.

C: You don't understand so I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Me: Good because I am running out of ways to tell you how irresponsible and stupid you're being and it's giving me a headache.

C: OK, I love you!

Me: I love you too C, but your still an idiot.

Now all say prayers that Levi survives his first month of life after his birth, because these two might decide to get him a pet tiger or something. I don't trust them.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Scorned Wife and Criminal Relatives

I received this award from my girl Lily who resides at The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose!. Lily also has a child, Spawn, who is out to take the world over so we have a bonding experience, I personally think there must surely be something in pre-natal vitamins that can have this reaction in some children. We may someday be the only mothers left, if our children decide to let us live through their planned apocalypse. I have to admit mine have never given me any indication that I will be on the list of survivors, but one can always hope.

I haven't written for a while, it's been a rough month for me. First I get a call from my half sister's husband. Keep in mind I have not spoken or saw them for at least 10 years. My sister and I are totally different people in our approach to life and raising children. We have never been close. There was also that little matter of her sitting in the other room letting her ex-husband beat her 3 yr old son bloody, me calling the police the second I found out about it the next morning, DPS investigating it and giving me the child, my sister and Mr. Wonderful fleeing town in the middle of the night with the child, the 6 month hunt for the child and the eventual arrest of Mr. Wonderful to come between any sisterly bond we might ever have had. The first day after they made the great escape we came home from work, it was winter, to find that all our utilities had been disconnected. And I do mean all of them. It's Friday night and nothing we can do until Monday but get a hotel room for the weekend. Monday morning we start making the rounds of the utility companies only to find out each had been called and told by "us" that we were moving and needed everything turned off , even left fake addresses for the final bills to be sent to. Of course these companies calls are all recorded and they played the recordings back, the voices were my sister and Mr. Wonderful pretending to be us. So there really aren't any warm fuzzy feelings flowing back and forth between us. I am however very close to her children (when Mr. Wonderful went to prison for beating my nephew she was given custody back of her son). Now she is married to one I call "The Goon", I have never in my life seen an uglier or dumber human being that is not employed by a circus sideshow. It seems my sister has decided a life of crime might be more profitable than actually working (she also has a degree in nursing) so she used the routing number off of a loan check The Goon had taken out against their house and went on a computer shopping spree with it. They got her on 49 counts of felony federal bank fraud, then after getting her in jail find out she has 42 outstanding bad checks that she had signed The Goon's name on so another 42 felony fraud accounts were added. She didn't lie about it, admitted it all, I mean what was the point in her lying they have her on video cashing most of them. Both older children are married and on their own, but her 16 yr old daughter is still at home. I am the only person she has. So thinking my beyond stupid sister was going to prison for many years for her acts I was contacted by DPS to see if I would take custody of her daughter. We all know that children are not high on my list so I immediately felt the fear of God rush through my body, steadied myself against the kitchen counter and weakly gasped out a "yes". Even though this is a child that belongs to Mensa, Decca, never caused anyone a bit of trouble in any way and is the most grounded 16 yr old I have ever seen, she has her goal of being a lawyer (probably thinks she may need to help her mother out some day) set and has worked hard for it. She has already completed all classes for an Associates Degree and at her high school graduation she will also be given her Associates Degree. Then she is off to start her path to law school. Can you imagine how far from that path the Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate could lead her? But of course I said yes, I love this child and there is no way she was going to anyone else. So it's been a mad dash between two states that have two entirely different sets of laws trying to get everything set up legally. So we get all this done and then I am informed the charges have all been dropped and my sister will be home Monday so there is no need now. I should be glad about this but in a way I am not, I really do want my niece out of that environment but my hands are tied and enduring the many "I'm going to hold you in contempt of court if you don't stop calling Mr. Blank "The Goon" from the judge still ringing in my ears. Of course there was that fleeting moment of revenge when the judge had heard me say it so much that he actually slipped and called him Mr. Goon. Right after his quick apology to the court I turned to my attorney and loudly asked "Is that not considered contempt of court? He's been telling me it was." Is it OK if the judge says it?". I'm telling you it's one of those moments you live for in life.

So I am upset and fuming about all this wasted time, energy and emotion I have just put in and wondering how my sister has once again beat the system as I drive back home, when I have a tire blow out. Of course I did what any self respecting southern lady would do and called Roadside Assistance, mostly because I have no idea how to change a tire. I think RA figured this out rather quickly when they ask if I had a donut and I replied "No but I'm just across the street from the donut shop and can go get some if you want me too" That was when they told me to just stay in my car and someone would be right there. They came, taught me about donuts and then the search was on for a tire. I find a tire to fit and take my car in and then they tell me I need four new tires, not just one. I guess it was my fuzzy houseslippers with the hole in the toe, the flaky green nailpolish and the T-shirt that said something about a tattoo shop that made them think I had enough money to buy four new tires and have a front and rear alignment done at the same time to the tune of $700.

The next day I go back to my doctor because my fibro is flaring and I need my meds upped, no surprise considering all of the above mentioned stress. They do a bunch of blood work and come back to inform me that yes, I do have fibro but I also have Lupus. Lupus? Where the hell did that come from?  I didn't even go in there with any inkling anything else was wrong. Now they are telling me I probably had lupus first and that is what triggered the fibro. I'm ashamed to tell you I took the news rather like a 6 yr old being told she isn't going to get to go to the fair that night after having been promised she would for the last three weeks straight. I came home and threw a temper tantrum and then retreated to my room for days.

Then last night I find my ex in is in town to work a charity event that we have been associated with for over 25 yrs. He hasn't come the last three years so I really didn't expect him this year either. I usually just stay home the years he comes so I don't have to deal with him. Last night he calls and asks if I have any of the charity's shirts in XXL at my house because his had gotten dirty while setting up the stage for the bands. I happily told him of course I did and would send one with The Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate when they came (they usually go and help prep food, set up the lights and stage, etc the day before the actual charity, then since there father is head of the security for the charity they spend the night with him at the event arena). I sent the shirt, I just did a little artwork on the back in magic marker first,  it says: "I cheated on my wife and now she hates me, walked out on my kids and now they hate me, even the dogs hate me but I think I am one hell of a catch, wanna take me home to your Mamma and show me off?"  Fool never even noticed it and wore it all night. If anyone there saw it, and you know they had to notice it,  they didn't point it out to him, just let him walk around with it on. Guess they don't like him very much either. The lesson here men, is don't ask the woman scorned for a favor, it will come back to bite you in the ass, every time.

Thought I would share this email I got a couple weeks ago:

I love your blog except that you have mean kids and bad language.  You should really teach your children better. How do you get your background to change so often?  Mine is always the same, it never changes. Do you have to pay extra to get it to do that?

My reply:
I would surely contact Google and complain if I were you.  I  just paid my basic blogger fee of $1,000, maybe it comes with that. You could try sending them a check and see if yours changes then. Just don't forget to tell them you want the changing background option.