Well, it's been a while since I've seen you. How are you doing? I hope all is well with you.
I'm glad that you finally figured out what that spot was on your shirt. It was a bit of a concern when you were wondering if that was poo or if she had gone outside. Dogs can be such an inconvenience.
Oh my...it wasn't a dog you say? Well then I suppose your child might leave a stain still.
Oh dear...not your child either. Well, let's just let that one go!
So how did that dark spot end up on your lawn anyway? I know I am not a huge fan of watering grass, but you certainly do take pride in your lawn. That brown spot must have been devastating for you. Malicious activity you say? What would ever make you think that? Oh! You saw a neighbor toss some Round-up on your yard. My that must have been a shock! ME?!?! Why, I'd never take the time to do such a nefarious thing. What on Earth would I gain. I mean your lawn isn't frosting is it? If it were frosting I would eat all of your grass.
Fine!! If it's that big a deal I will help you re-sod that spot. I had NOTHING to do with the dog poo on your door step. I don't even have a dog! My cat would die if it passed something that large. You really think it might be human in nature? Well if you must know I did see the neighbor to the left of you with a brown bag, snickering.
Your backyard is full of holes?? What do you think made them? I don't have any chipmunks anymore with the cats. You saw your neighbor behind you digging them.
My word! 3 out of 4 neighbors bothering you. I really am sorry I lied about the Round-up. I didn't realize it would spread and spell out F--- You. Ok I did! I took the time, it was deliberate!!
All 4 neighbors have picked on you? And more??
Fine! We are all tired of the nude sunbathing in the front, back and side yards! We are tired of the bagpipe practice at 2am! I know it's the only time you can practice, but we need sleep. My cat has a nervous tic now from the fife music on Saturday nights. Also the banana hammock your Dad wears to the mailbox quite frankly has us nauseated. Several neighborhood children are very concerned about walking past your house.
I probably should have told you this months ago. I should have been upfront and honest rather than resorting to childish pranks in my defense; it's a difficult to address some of these concerns Sis!
May I get you more coffee....and please put on a bathrobe! The neighbors are coming for coffee and doughnuts.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
7358400 minutes +
7358400 minutes +.......350 ish minutes when I started this....ok, started this on the 12th, then got busy and forgot to post it...sooo add less than 3200 minutes.
It seems like a large number. It's so incredibly small. My son turned 14 at 9:06 pm on 10/11.
I look at my large, capable (slightly) confident, yet wholly undaunted and friendly son. I realize many people "don't get him" they likely never will. Similar to me and my husband, he marches between a beat of his own and the struggle to fit in. It's always so hard to find one's place in the world. I ache for him when I see the worry etched on his face, the panic starting, the fear of non acceptance. Every year, he finds friends. Some choices are good, some friends make bad choices, some hopelessly nerdy..(good kids nonetheless).
All in all he does a decent job choosing friends. The one's he spends the most time with...the hangout friends, are all talkative, friendly, slightly helpful boys. They don't really cheat or steal. It's impossible to steal cookies freely given and no one tells the whole truth about how many cookies they've had. Oh wait...I'm the lying cookie thief! They fess up proudly to the 12 cookies they each ate. Maybe they just cheat and take the largest...or is that evil, wicked me again?
It breaks my heart to see his failures, him quitting, fear of success as crippling as that of failure. I wish there were a magic Mommy circuit board I could have implanted. It would emit a low and constant dose of booze or a relaxing medication. The booze board would make me more fun to be around though.
I need to smile more, enjoy him more...and deal with his attitude changes...at 14, i'm suuure he knows much more than I do. I am constantly reminded how abjectly stupid I am to expect him to put away clothes, do a few chores, homework and keep his room cleanish.
On the flipside, I'm pretty smart. I taught him to cook early and often! He makes omelettes with wild abandon. So wild in fact that we now have curry powder and other spices in eggs. It works! We found out because of our marvelous budding chef. We never wondered, he didn't take time to weigh it out, he wondered then did it.
I wonder what the next very short minutes he will live with us are going to be like?
It seems like a large number. It's so incredibly small. My son turned 14 at 9:06 pm on 10/11.
I look at my large, capable (slightly) confident, yet wholly undaunted and friendly son. I realize many people "don't get him" they likely never will. Similar to me and my husband, he marches between a beat of his own and the struggle to fit in. It's always so hard to find one's place in the world. I ache for him when I see the worry etched on his face, the panic starting, the fear of non acceptance. Every year, he finds friends. Some choices are good, some friends make bad choices, some hopelessly nerdy..(good kids nonetheless).
All in all he does a decent job choosing friends. The one's he spends the most time with...the hangout friends, are all talkative, friendly, slightly helpful boys. They don't really cheat or steal. It's impossible to steal cookies freely given and no one tells the whole truth about how many cookies they've had. Oh wait...I'm the lying cookie thief! They fess up proudly to the 12 cookies they each ate. Maybe they just cheat and take the largest...or is that evil, wicked me again?
It breaks my heart to see his failures, him quitting, fear of success as crippling as that of failure. I wish there were a magic Mommy circuit board I could have implanted. It would emit a low and constant dose of booze or a relaxing medication. The booze board would make me more fun to be around though.
I need to smile more, enjoy him more...and deal with his attitude changes...at 14, i'm suuure he knows much more than I do. I am constantly reminded how abjectly stupid I am to expect him to put away clothes, do a few chores, homework and keep his room cleanish.
On the flipside, I'm pretty smart. I taught him to cook early and often! He makes omelettes with wild abandon. So wild in fact that we now have curry powder and other spices in eggs. It works! We found out because of our marvelous budding chef. We never wondered, he didn't take time to weigh it out, he wondered then did it.
I wonder what the next very short minutes he will live with us are going to be like?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Glee did it better...
Britney that is.....
We dvr most shows, time, ads, lazy....etc.
Recently we watched Britney 2.0. Even Glee couldn't do much with the train wreck that was the last part of that over played lounge act. I never was fond of her. It's like the Benjamin Button of Vegas. Instead of running toward a lounge act in her later years at some dusty faded casino, her career seemed spawned in a dusty faded casino...then the casino wised up and redid the play-bill with a talented performer like....Rebecca Black or Ke$ha.
It has nothing to do with her emotional state, drug use, non use, Federlining....it's just her voice. It sounded like 90% studio enhancement 10% her. The performers on Glee actually seem to care and put emotion into otherwise flat songs. They did such a great job the first time around I almost....almost wanted to hear the original. Then I thought...why ruin a rose with stinkweed.
I realize many people (chris crocker in that odd vid i fortunately never saw all of) adore her. I also know people who eat Limburger cheese. I adore cheese, yet I can not swallow Limburger cheese. I've bought it a few times to no avail. It's not a gag reflex, it feels like my throat closes and my mouth wants it out. I don't think Britney Spears is Limburger to my ears, I just don't like her voice.
I guess what it boils down to is.... Let there be Britney songs, but let them be done by Glee. :D
We dvr most shows, time, ads, lazy....etc.
Recently we watched Britney 2.0. Even Glee couldn't do much with the train wreck that was the last part of that over played lounge act. I never was fond of her. It's like the Benjamin Button of Vegas. Instead of running toward a lounge act in her later years at some dusty faded casino, her career seemed spawned in a dusty faded casino...then the casino wised up and redid the play-bill with a talented performer like....Rebecca Black or Ke$ha.
It has nothing to do with her emotional state, drug use, non use, Federlining....it's just her voice. It sounded like 90% studio enhancement 10% her. The performers on Glee actually seem to care and put emotion into otherwise flat songs. They did such a great job the first time around I almost....almost wanted to hear the original. Then I thought...why ruin a rose with stinkweed.
I realize many people (chris crocker in that odd vid i fortunately never saw all of) adore her. I also know people who eat Limburger cheese. I adore cheese, yet I can not swallow Limburger cheese. I've bought it a few times to no avail. It's not a gag reflex, it feels like my throat closes and my mouth wants it out. I don't think Britney Spears is Limburger to my ears, I just don't like her voice.
I guess what it boils down to is.... Let there be Britney songs, but let them be done by Glee. :D
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
It's MY blog and I'll whine if I want to
Recently this little gem;
"The next time I read a blog, I hope that it doesnt disappoint me as much as this one. I mean, I know it was my choice to read, but I actually thought youd have something interesting to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something that you could fix if you werent too busy looking for attention." -Anonymous
appeared in my spam comments box.....where it rightfully belongs
As plainly stated at the top of the page... ^^^^waaay up there^^^^.........there will be whining, because
"It's my blog"
I appreciate comments both good and bad, but this is just plain mean. There is zero constuctive criticism. There is the cowardice of an Anonymous post, with a critique. No link to follow, so that I might bask in the glory of this witty critic's flowing prose on his or her own blog.
If it isn't constuctive...don't say it. If my blog is that bad...."don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya" Please, dear bold anonymous critic, run fleetingly from my subpar blog. Life is too short to waste time on things, people, places, if they don't captivate or hold one's interest in even a small way. When I realize I don't like reading something I just stop. I don't think I've ever written a negative blog comment, because how can I possibly understand what the underlying reasons were for writing a "meltdown" entry.
If there are a few things you would like to correct me on, such as the color of the sky, Barbie's hair, or a caramel...please do. Currently my sky is black (night) the Barbie I am thinking of has blonde hair (malibu Barbie circa 1975) and my caramels appear tan. I may be off on accuracies such as a mid tan or something.
As far as my whiney little blog, I like it. It was started for me as an open diary to recall my life, to draw me out of a dark place I was heading. It gave me accountability so I couldn't just disappear. This blog reminds me of the journey I've been on since I first posted, where I'm going, and it forces me beyond myself. I've made admissions on here (before I actually realized myself) that have woken me up to the fact that I am still a bit down.
I'm glad I've discovered blogging. I'm sorry that brave, brave sir anonymous, brave sir anonymous ran away....before I could provide him/her a list of other diary like blogs. If these homespun, real-life blogs are his/her kryptonite then may he/she be contained.
I will sally forth with my whine fest.....oh and funny southern stories too! :)
"The next time I read a blog, I hope that it doesnt disappoint me as much as this one. I mean, I know it was my choice to read, but I actually thought youd have something interesting to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something that you could fix if you werent too busy looking for attention." -Anonymous
appeared in my spam comments box.....where it rightfully belongs
As plainly stated at the top of the page... ^^^^waaay up there^^^^.........there will be whining, because
"It's my blog"
I appreciate comments both good and bad, but this is just plain mean. There is zero constuctive criticism. There is the cowardice of an Anonymous post, with a critique. No link to follow, so that I might bask in the glory of this witty critic's flowing prose on his or her own blog.
If it isn't constuctive...don't say it. If my blog is that bad...."don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya" Please, dear bold anonymous critic, run fleetingly from my subpar blog. Life is too short to waste time on things, people, places, if they don't captivate or hold one's interest in even a small way. When I realize I don't like reading something I just stop. I don't think I've ever written a negative blog comment, because how can I possibly understand what the underlying reasons were for writing a "meltdown" entry.
If there are a few things you would like to correct me on, such as the color of the sky, Barbie's hair, or a caramel...please do. Currently my sky is black (night) the Barbie I am thinking of has blonde hair (malibu Barbie circa 1975) and my caramels appear tan. I may be off on accuracies such as a mid tan or something.
As far as my whiney little blog, I like it. It was started for me as an open diary to recall my life, to draw me out of a dark place I was heading. It gave me accountability so I couldn't just disappear. This blog reminds me of the journey I've been on since I first posted, where I'm going, and it forces me beyond myself. I've made admissions on here (before I actually realized myself) that have woken me up to the fact that I am still a bit down.
I'm glad I've discovered blogging. I'm sorry that brave, brave sir anonymous, brave sir anonymous ran away....before I could provide him/her a list of other diary like blogs. If these homespun, real-life blogs are his/her kryptonite then may he/she be contained.
I will sally forth with my whine fest.....oh and funny southern stories too! :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)