Ranty Goodness


Am I the last person to see this website where you can find things under someone’s email address? I looked up my addresses (even the ones that I have never used on my blog. one email address that I haven’t used in almost 10 years!) and they led here in some roundabout way. I am so tempted to pay the membership fee to stalk myself and see what everyone else can. That is a crazy thing to do. I will resist the urge.

The boys are here tonight instead of at their mother’s because LB had a 2 hour baseball practice tonight and it was too much of an almighty trial for her to take him. Today was an unexpected day off and I’d planned on sleeping in and running naked around the house but ended up going to the dollar movie theater instead. We had to get out of the house before cabin fever set in. I ran them ragged helping me get the house clean yesterday and we were all ready to get out.

Anyone want to make a bet? I am scheduled off on the 25th (Thursday) of this month as a Random Day Off To Not Do Shit and the coaew’s spaying is set for the 26th. She is supposed to pick up the boys Thursday morning and drop them off here that night before her procedure on Friday but I bet you a dollar that they will be here all day long. I feel evil but I’m not even going to mention to them that I’m off on that day because I’d kind of like to be alone. Honestly, if there is time available to be off work on the 26th, then I will change my day and it won’t bother me because I know they’re going to be here that day. It will irk me if she decides that they will stay here instead of with her just because I’m going to be home and it will be easier for her.

I like being with the boys. It just annoys the fuck out of me that she will be all “oh, I can’t stand to go (whatever number of days) without seeing the boys!” but then use any excuse to not get them. After she’s been kind enough to tell Sweety that I’m not doodly-squat to the boys. You know what I mean? Not that I don’t like being around them. They are interesting and we do have a lot of fun together.

Maybe I’m on high alert too because she felt the need to call Sweety today with a totally fucking ignorant parenting question. For crying out loud, this nutball has birthed 4 and is in charge of SEVEN and can’t make obvious choices?

Is it okay if I let the boys watch a movie alone in the mall theater while I walk around with the other kids?

Well, BB did go to Indianapolis on a school trip (and will be driving next year!) and they’re both getting to be grown. I would say so. But why?

Well, they don’t like to watch the same kinds of movies that the little kids do.

First off, didn't she say at first that she was going to "walk around the mall" with the other kids? Not take them to another movie? Pick your story and stick to it. And second? Why bother asking him what he thinks? She sure as shit didn't ask him if he was okay with encouraging LB to shoot fucking birds! (imagine that last sentence being sung by me in a high-pitched screamsong that fades to nothing) And third? The boys will watch ANY FUCKING MOVIE YOU TAKE THEM TO. We saw Race To Witch Mountain today and they were begging to go see Up! but I didn’t feel like shelling out for full priced tickets. We’re all geared up to watch G-Force. A movie about talking guinea pigs. They’re not too picky in the “going to the movies” department.

BB had a dinner at school a couple of weeks ago and it was her scheduled night but Sweety took him. She told Sweety that BB “looks at her weird” when she goes places with him. BB thanked Sweety for taking him “because it’s always so hard for mom to find a sitter or all the kids come too.”

I want to send her a “congratulations on not subjecting the world to more from your womb!” card but Hallmark didn’t have one. Bastards.

Please forgive my excessive use of quotation marks, italics and the word “fuck”. I think I’m a bit premenstrual. You really wanted to know that, huh?

Here. Let me end with something that makes me laugh.

Tiny Dog will get all pissed off sometimes when we get too close to her cage and will run inside to “guard” it. Even if there is no food in her bowl, she will still growl over it. So when she did it the other night, Sweety closed her cage door and lined Cheetos (food from the doggy gods) up….

Lining 'em up.

Like a machine.

and let Stinky Dog eat them all. I saw a blood vessel burst in Tiny’s eye while this was going down.



Sometime I Picture Myself Smacking My Head Against The Wall


You all know it’s Easter this weekend? Right? I guess that shit sneaked up on the coaew because she couldn’t wait around for the boys’ baseball practice to end tonight so she could take them home (her night) because she needed to get ready for Easter. It just bugs the living shit out of me that she does this kind of thing. What the fuck does that say to the boys? I’ve already tweeted my annoyance and I’ll leave it alone.

So we are staying up super late and I’m letting them snack on whatever junk we have here.



Empty Headed


Sweety gave me blogger’s block this weekend.

I was telling him about something and I had blogged about it and said something like, “You didn’t read it?”. Because I had been under the impression that he kept up with things here. (because I know he reads the Twitters in the sidebar because he mentions them.) His reply? “No. Why do I want to read that boring shit? Your dogs, job and the coaew. That’s it. Over and over and over.”

There was utter silence in the car for about 10 minutes.

You know, that was kind of a mean thing to say.

What?

That my posts are boring. Even if they are. That wasn’t nice. You could have just said you didn’t read it.

What I meant was the things you write about are repetitive because that’s all you do.

You know what?! Sometimes people send me emails letting me know they like my boring! (imagine a nice, shrill voice here. maybe I was feeling sensitive and my eyes were moist too)

*blink* *blink* Maybe I should start getting out and doing things. So I am less repetitive, asshole. (okay, the asshole part was only in my head.)

I think Sweety sensed that the Homeland Security alert had just went up to Orange.

You make your things sound interesting though! You’re like ramen!

Ramen? Fifteen cents a package ramen? WTF?

No, wait! Your life is like plain ramen noodles but you are like the ramen seasoning packet. Once you sprinkle on there it’s all interesting!

So I’ve been trying to think of something new to blog about and have come up empty handed.

I did take out some frustration on Sweety’s ass on Saturday night though. I love my little riding crop. And tequila. He still has a criss-cross pattern back there.

There! That didn’t pertain to work or dogs or coaew!



Death, Coming out of the Closet, Birth. I’ve got it all.


**ELAINE? ARE YOU READING THIS? YOU CAN GO ON AND SKIP THIS ONE.**

LB hunts at his mother’s house. Birds. With a bb gun. Sweety said something to the coaew about it and she said that LB enjoys it. She says he eats what he kills. I say he can’t be so fucking hungry that he needs to shoot tiny birds out of trees. I saw a photo of him online, smiling from ear to ear, gun across his body and a bird the size of a tiny rat with feathers in his hand. She said he ate it. I don’t believe her and I don’t care if he did eat it. I think it’s one thing to hunt for food. He’s not hunting “for food”. He’s killing birds. I threw up when I saw the photo.

He told me a few weeks ago that he built 3 bird feeders for the trees in the yard over there. I wonder if they’re like salt licks for deers? Get them in the habit of coming by for some grub so you can blow them out of the sky?

It makes me sad.

I’m just totally freaked out by the whole thing. I can’t even look at him right now. I want to ask him if the bird was tasty. I have told Sweety that I’ll never hear another word out of LB’s mouth at dinnertime if he doesn’t want to eat something. If you can pick a bb out of a feathered rat’s ass and eat it then you can damn well eat anything I cook.

My sweet Mom happened to call today when I was in the middle of freaking out over the bird killing thing. Somehow, the conversation turned to religion. I’ve come out of the closet with my Mom. She’s knows I’m an atheist now. I told her I have morals because they are the right thing to have. Not because I want to go to heaven. She said that she would still pray for me and I told her that was fine.

In other news, here’s where baby chihuahuas REALLY come from.

IMG_0054



While I’m At It


I’ll just bitch some more, okay? It’s PMS season. Cut me some slack.

Sweety got a message on his cell phone the other day from coaew before he picked the boys up from school – “I just wanted to let you know that LB grabbed a wire that had been in the fire and burned his fingertips. He didn’t actually burn them IN the fire.” Oh. Okay. Thanks for the clarification. I’m pretty sure that they boys lose all common sense when they go to their mother’s. I’m just glad to see them come back from there alive and not missing any digits or eyeballs. Sweety had a talk with LB about staying away from fire no matter where he is. You know what we do when we have fires? We tell the kids to stay far enough away from it so that they don’t get burned. Novel concept, no?

Let me tell you something else that is pinging around in my mean little mind.

(Sheesh. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this. It really highlights my cunty goodness.)

LB has baseball practice this Saturday from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. This is coaew’s weekend. Sweety is helping coach the team. So help me Pete, if Sweety tells her that he’ll get LB and take him to practice and then take him back to her, I will croak. Why? Because dammit, if my Saturday night is going to be shot to shit due to baseball practice and it’s not our weekend, then I want her to sit her ass on those bleachers for two hours experience the joy as well.

I can’t help it. Admitting that you’re a bitch makes it not so bad, right? Or not. Who cares. It’s not in my nature at all to be a nice person to coaew. It’s really all I can do to keep my yap shut in real life when she does something that makes me spasm.

Guess who is going to be nearby Saturday night? Gallagher. When I heard today on the radio – I came thisclose to buying tickets. I got busy doing other shit stuff, like getting all of the supplies together for a project that LB has, (It’s due on Monday and they go to their mom’s tonight til Monday morning. I mean, we can’t break an 8 year habit and do a project over there instead of here, can we?) and thought I’d get them tonight. (I knew I was going to be home alone tonight. Sweety & company are at baseball practice.) In the meantime, I found out about Saturday’s baseball practice. He’s going to have a show on Friday night too. I could possibly zoom to it after I got off of work but Sweety wasn’t enthused when I mentioned it to him.

Hey! Do you know who Gallagher is? Watermelon guy?

*eyeroll* He is so eighties.

Sweety is complaining that someone is “eighties”? I swear, he has t-shirts from 1988 in his closet.



Douchebaggery


pimp This is my town’s mayor. I ask you – does this guy look like a douche or what? I think it’s the smarmy smile and the highlighted hair. Nine times out of ten, men with highlighted hair are assholes. That’s what my scientific survey says. I put his photo up and didn’t actually type his name because I don’t want him to sue me for slander.

I know that a lot of you have those evil little trackers on your website stat counter things on your sidebars so you know where I’m at. (So don’t freak out, Sweety.) When we had cable, we could watch the city council meetings on the local station. Can you say “clusterfuck”?

It’s great to flip open the Orlando Sentinel and know that if I see his name or my town’s name in a headline that the article is going to make me groan out loud. This is my favorite recent story. I guess they don’t make people that work for the city take any sort of sensitivity training or test them to make sure they aren’t complete dumbasses.

I hope someone’s dog takes a giant shit in his yard and he steps in it on the way to work. No, wait. I take that back. I hope he steps barefoot in it on his way out to get the newspaper in the morning.

Phwew. I feel better now.