Monday, April 3, 2017

The Vagina Diaries #99977768

Someone in our local educational system thought up of a brilliant way to educate teenagers in health class by means of having a baby placed in our home. It came to us Friday night unexpectedly. Originally, it was scheduled to arrive on Easter weekend and I said, NO WAY. I didn't want my Bug to skip Easter because I knew she would be a freak about this thing.

She told me in very detailed verbage explosion with a motherly attitude that she was not to be bothered because she was taking care of this baby and did not want to fail class. She asked if "grandma" would be willing to babysit over the weekend. This "grandma" was conveniently inconvenient and cancelled all grandmother appearances much to Bug's surprise. She could not possibly imagine that I was not a willing participant. I told her she should have to suffer as a single mother just as I had and to suck it up. Yes, it is true. I have no sympathy. So begins the lesson. Or so I thought.

The first night was hell as she did not receive much sleep with the baby waking up every 30 minutes. Thank you, teacher! This was good. I didn't hear a thing and slept like a baby in my room. The next day I departed. I left for an overnight trip in late afternoon on Saturday to return on Sunday. I figured that way there would be no temptation or begging of grandmotherly duties.

I did check in via Facetime. She was very tired and had failed in most house duties, while shutting herself in her room to care for her near-real infant. Apparently, she was very proud of her bags under her eyes. As you can see from our Facetime chat, I had so much sympathy and nearly cried over the loss of sleep.

Dear Sleep, 
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art NOT with me;

I figured all this was real life problems. No sense sugar coating it.

I know. I won't be getting any Mother of the Year awards. It's OK. I hope I have created a good kid as a result of my unorthodox motherhood ways.

I expect some day paybacks will be hell with a real live grandkid, but I hope that is many years from now. In the meantime, torture is in play and seemed to result in some oopsies around the house.

For instance, I came home to a pile of dishes and a burnt pan. The dog got locked in the laundry room and ate the door. Muddy paw prints were tracked all over the house and on the furniture. It was a disaster. What happened? Grr. I got mad but I moved on because she was asleep and I could not address it just then. That was in her favor.

A load of laundry was left in the washer to gather mold or dust. I'm not sure which because it was never turned on. Oh, that's right. We hid all the detergent because she has a tendency to wash two shirts in a load which is wasteful.

She also takes 45 minute showers. We turned the hot water off when she was in the shower in the process. My water bill last month was $124.00. Me thinks she doesn't get it. So I had to fight hot water with cold.

But my plans may have backfired as I now have to do the dishes and laundry myself because I can't stand it. Wait. I shall tell the new fake mother that the chores are ready for her at home and she can do them first thing when she gets out of track practice.

Tonight I will be sanding the door down in an effort to save it rather than by a new one.

Was I mad?

Oh yeah. I was mad as hell.

But instead of coming publicly unglued, I retreated to the barn and my bedroom so I would not make an ass of myself as a mother in a rage of anger.

Today, I have deflated my initial reaction to a lesson learned to myself.

Will I do this all over again? You betcha.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Vagina Diaries #857475: Boob Lube

Some things in life are free.

Many things are not.

Sometimes you pay a hefty price.

For stupidity.

And other things.

Right now, I am obsessed with the show Vikings. I am striving to be Lagertha. She is so cool, even peasants want to be her. I think she was much more wise than me. But she does have trouble picking good men in her life. That part was like me. I've finally gotten wise. The other stuff...I can be a warrior or a legend in my own mind. I can dress like her. But...I'm sure she would not have gone through life making the mistakes I have.

Why not? Aspire to be Lagertha. Arr. SKOL!

Yesterday started out with a bang and ended with a kaboom.

I was reconciling my checking account when I found a huge ACH withdrawal that I did not authorize.

I called the number up and spoke to a very nice customer service representative who spoke perfect English. I was really impressed. We could communicate and she could understand my problems.

To preface, I had ordered some facial products for my daughter because of her acne, so they delivered.

So, I did recognize the company's name on my online statement, but did not authorize a new charge.
Yes, I think I will. Thank you!

The lady listened to my concern and asked, "Ma'am, this is the first charge of two because you checked the box to try a 30 day money back guarantee of our uplift cream. Did you not like the products?"

"I'm not saying I didn't like your products. I did not authorize a charge."

"Uh. Huh. Ma'am, did you return the cream back to us within 30 days so you would not be charged full price?"

"Uh. I didn't know I had to. I thought it was a free sample for the shipping cost only."

"I'm sorry. No, ma'am. You were given the product for 30 days free. If we didn't hear from you and receive the product back, we charge you two payments. This is the first payment."

"Holy balls. $140?"

"Yes. Ma'am. That is what the product retails for and you were given instructions in the box."

"Wow. Well, I can't afford that. And I don't want any more charges. Can I get my money back? I have to feed three small children and we have no groceries."

"Ok. We can see what we can do for you. Did the products work? I understand you must be having some trouble with lift in your breast area?"

Ok. Hold the horses. This lady was getting personal and inappropriate. WTF?


"Oh. Well, I guess I misunderstood. It shows here you ordered the Uplift Cream. It is for increasing lift in your breast area."

Holy. Fucking. Balls.

What. The Fuck. Have. I. Done.

I was feeling flushed and stupid.

"Uh. Hmm. Ok. Well, how do I stop these charges. Do you need the product back?"

"No. It is too late for the return, but I can stop the second payment and write customer dissatisfaction on here and we will not charge you for the second payment. You will receive your seasonal facial care shipment in April."

"Whoa. I don't want any more shipments to come automatically. I only ordered my daughter a facial kit and she doesn't need any more right now."

"Ok. I will stop all shipments. You should be taken care of. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well. Could the Uplift Cream be used on any other areas other than the breasts?"
boob lube

"Well, ma'am. I am not recommending it for anything else except what it was formulated to do and sell as. As instructed, it is designed for the breast area. It is formulated to lift, tighten, and plump. "
If I pull my face back, can you tell I have boob lube on my neck?

"Ok. Thank you. I think I am OK. Have a nice day."

Fuck. Me. In. The. Ass.

Does this cream make my face look big?

So when this extra cream stuff came in the mail and when I read about it online, I understood it was special cream for my  neck. I have been putting the fucking cream on my neck for a month. A whole month!

No wonder I have jowls.

Here I thought I was getting fatter and fatter. It is actually the cream. This cream really just lifted my neck skin up to my face according to my theory. I can't believe I am such an idiot. How did I get confused? Am I losing it? Wait. Don't answer that question.

What will I look like in 60 days?

Will I have two perky boobs on my face?

Right now I am fighting bad skin and wrinkles.

They are winning.

It doesn't help that I just gave myself a new set of boobs...on my face.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

5 Things That Pissed Me Off Yesterday

Look... the color is drained out of my face.
In review, I have started each post with the same static theme, so I am going to continue that way. Why change? Who needs variation? We all like routine and scoff at progress, right?

Today starts with a pit of pissy and a lot of snark. I'm not angry...just passionate. I really exaggerate sometimes at my level of pissed off-ness.

So you thought I was dead? I might be because I am really exhausted and am just working out of a shell. There is no substance or internal pizzazz. 

Let me sum up my fears of existence:

A. I think I just exist, not live, on a plane or two. (not airplane-the other mathematical kind) Hey, I'm down here! Am I living? Not right now. I am existing. Sometimes I float between the two. Grad school. That's all I have to say about that. 

B. No sleep. Lack of sleep messes with a person's mind channeling. Can you say psycho?

C. My child is buzzing in teenage mode where she helps sporadically and then loves to sit on the couch and do nothing. Like literally. Sometimes, a momster grad student Nicole Curtis wannabe just needs a little assistant. Free type.

And yesterday, the bear in me came out. I think it probably surfaces every day, but I try to contain it. My day with my Bug at the eye doctor and skin doctor was a challenge.

Why am I pissed off and so what poked the bear?

First, I must preface this with the fact that I am surrounded by wonderful people, even the annoying ones.

1.  Strangely,  the school gave me the wrong kid when I went to get Bug out of classes for her eye doctor appointment. I had no idea who this girl was approaching me in the school office. I shit you not. It took another 15 minutes to get the right one. Then sass happened. The Bug sassed me and back-talked and jabbered the entire time we were driving out of the school yard to the eye doctor. She had to ding me for being late...which I was not...the school fucked up on kid pulling...then just kept going like I had put a quarter in her. I wanted the noise to stop. It was like asylum-ish. 

2. Financial demise. Medical bankruptcy (figuratively...but I am slowly marching that direction) I put myself here many years ago through moving and divorce and then lots going wrong. But I am digging out of the hole. It's muddy in there. Sometimes I slide down. Slowly making progress. But I'm still pissed about it. My entire day yesterday getting skin cancer check ups and glasses cost me $1600.00. Insurance covered $644.00. Rest went to my deductible. Whoopt-dee-doo.  I had for the first time enrolled in a health savings plan which gives me $100 a month less in net income but goes into the savings account...which is devastating at my income level...BUT...saved me for this purpose because I could use $700 of it to cover most of the remainder. Now that account is near dry. It's there for that reason, but I had wanted to save it for a possible surprise. Well, I guess it fits. Surprise! Big fucking bills. 

3. The world disorder is pissing me the fuck off. I can't really point my finger at one thing. It just gives me a headache. The news. Twitter. Social media. The world chaos.  I feel that even some of my good friends are shorting out and all have lost coping skills. About everything. It could be a paper cut. I have come to realize that prepping to save myself from others prepping because they feel the world is going to end and the oncoming possible civil war is a good idea. And I need a brick fortress. I know just where to find one. And a moat. That might be a little more difficult. 

4. Messy house. Unorganized life. Lack of time. Piles of Homework. I am getting bent about time constraints. Do these professors realize I have a life? Life cannot exist on this planet with all these other requirements. I can't prepare meals unless they are sandwiches slapped together or done in crock pots. That is...if I get up early enough to throw the stuff in there. Sometimes on Sunday I will cook a big meal so I have lunches. Bug has to fend for herself a lot. Man, I sound like the world's biggest whiner. God help me. Please. Like soon. 

5. Force. May the force not be with you. Opinions and nosy Nellies. Opinions are like assholes. Every one has one. Sometimes I don't want yours. Or maybe I disagree or maybe I do things differently. Sometimes I will listen. I definitely get tired of noses in my business when they are judgmental and negative all the time. Don't prophetize to me either. Don't want that. Let fate be.  The crystal ball is pretty, but I don't let it rule my life. Thank you. Nor do I rule by stars and things, but I find those ways interesting and fun for entertainment. But I don't dump my appliances or my family because Mercury is in retrograde. Only that shit is for real. Retrograde is the devil. Are you perfect? Am I that interesting? I will tell you anything you want to know. Just approach me the right way. When you come off punchy and pushy like forcing me to eat porridge, then I will get a little miffed. I may not want your porridge.  I don't care if you have lived through a thousand like scenarios and think you are wiser than all of the others after you. Give gentle advice or tell me about your experience, but not like its the Holy Grail. Each person experiences. Let it happen. You can't always stop a truck from delivering the goods because you like yellow eggs and they are only delivering brown. I know. That made no sense. Sometimes words just happen. And the mind channeling doesn't always make it to the fingers. Apologies. I am getting tired of people who PUSH their opinions on me. Shut the fuck up. Be nice. Be supportive. Be inquisitive. Just don't be all about you and all about your way. There is more than one way to skin a cat. Duh. And can't I just be happy? Is that OK with you? That I don't have misery or speed bumps every two seconds? I know. It's been nice that the road has been straight, fast, and lacking pot holes lately. God bless me. And you. And the world.


I sounded like a royal bitch.

I am off to straighten my crown. Farewell, ordinary people! 

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Farmer Mentality

Lately, the spring cleaning fever has overcome me and Bug. We have been organizing closets and taking up arms against clutter. I look around. I have realized I have Farmer Mentality Syndrome.


You know the disease....1) Symptoms of junk fever 2) Something might be useful someday 3) There's money in that thang 4) Its an antique 5) I might need that 6)I've been meaning to use that 7)It is too valuable to throw away 8) Its parts 9) It cost me money 10) It was given to me.

When you lose your security, you make everything last and keep something because it might have value or be useful in the future. It's similar to farmers who keep their broken down machinery in the bone yard. Then it gets covered with weeds, but "its still money" in the yard.

And I am still so so grateful for all I have in people and in things. Things are not what make us whole, right?

When I broke one of my grandmother's delicate cups from Germany which go to a set of china I had, I was bummed. Like hit me in the nuts, bummed. Only I don't have any nuts. Anymore. Not really. I never had any to begin with. It broke because I have too many dishes and one got pushed too close to it.

Now my set immediately went from 6 to 5. I rarely used it because it was fragile. It was mostly a keepsake to pass down. And pretty. I like pretty things.

Oh, I could have repaired it with glue, but who wants to drink from a leaky cup? And seriously? Sometimes it is time to say goodbye. That's when I realized I need to have a garage sale this summer and get some of this cleaned out. That way I can turn the bone yard into usable greenbacks. And if it fails, I need to donate it to Goodwill.

How do we accumulate so much in short order? Or did I just need to surround myself with Was it like comfort food?

Egads. Comfort junk.

I'm not a hoarder, but I have entirely too much nonsense.

I need to repair and paint the walls, rip out the carpet...etc. And so it begins...

I must do something about this farming problem.



Before the Zombie Apocalypse.


Isn't junk good for that?

Tuesday, December 13, 2016


Today started off last night.

Oliver, bless his soul, ate some of Bug's chocolate candy.

So naturally, I was pretty sure he was going to die. He was fine for most of the evening and then I went to bed, bringing him with me because... I felt I should be near him in case he got sick or needed me.

Well, so came the ENTIRE crew of dogs. Beat me.  They all had to be there.

So naturally, I thought he was going to die because the OTHERS had to be right up on his butt. And very close to me. It's a sign, right? Dogs know?

This resulted in ME not having any room at all. Sucks. But what can you do? It's love. We were all going to be together in Oliver's time of need.

So naturally, I fell asleep and woke up in a jolt because Oliver was whining profusely and it sounded like he was going to die. It was pitiful. My heart was heavy. I surely did not want to lose my little feller. I sat myself up and propped my neck with some pillows and rubbed his belly. It seemed to calm him. I nodded off...and he would wake me up whining and I would rub his belly and well, you see the process. OVER AND OVER. ALL NIGHT LONG. THE ENTIRE NIGHT. I even looked at the clock ALL THE TIME.

So naturally, you can imagine that I got ZERO sleep. Add that to a kink in my neck and a pinched nerve leaving the entire right side numb. Oliver...still whining. Geesh. I was going to have to miss a day of work. I thought for sure if we got through the night, it would be OK.

I had to pee.

I scooted out from underneath the dog pile and hobbled to the bathroom. I did my duty and came back. Moose got up and moved to the end of the bed.


Underneath Moose was Oliver's toy. Oliver jumped up and grabbed it and was HEALED.

Little fucker.

All night. All night.

He is one obsessed dog.

So naturally, I do not know how to speak dog language. I am going to learn...Cliff Note version. I am still so pissed.


I had to use my neck traction machine to unstuck my neck and was late for work.

Little fucker.

God bless him.

Friday, November 18, 2016

The Black and The Blue


Last night was heavy.

When I came home, Bug sat next to me on the couch. We have been having some moments of glory and then the NOT SO. The not so makes my head spin around and the Madea came out.

So in order for this to all make sense ( to me and the voices in my head) I have to rewind to yesterday...

Yesterday we had a conversation at work and my friend told me everything Bug is doing is normal and this will all work out...parenting is not black and white. Well, I responded as best you could expect and I said, "No shit. Parenting is all about the black and the blue." You could imagine how well that went over. It went over about as well as a fart in church. And we started using the ghetto argument tactics. You know...where you talk and then talk louder over the other one and point fingers and tell the other one they don't know what they are talking about and yada yada. I was just doing it because I knew it gets under the skin and it is fun to razz my friend. Then the big boss poked his head in and said, "Yeah. Madea. We all parent that way. Hell to the no." Life is hard sometimes. You have to laugh your way through it.

But not on this day. She was frustrated with our viewpoints.

It was so much fun.

Anyway, we didn't solve world problems. Nor did we end up agreeing on parenting styles...but she is a great person and I enjoy her friendship. Now on the naughty side of easy to play with my academic friends...whooeee...I love to jazz up the liberals who don't spank or discipline with the rod like the bible says  corporal punishment viewpoints or even in a strict way. But...they do make good foods for pot lucks.


If the child bucks the system, the system bucks her off. That's the way I roll. And there are consequences. I do not hand out trophies and I do not give participation ribbons.

Kiss my what did you say?

Child...I gave you life. That is enough of a prize. Hallelujah!

Who me? Would I say that? Oh hell to the yes.

So...back to our couch visit... (no psychiatrist involved)....Bug poured her guts out to me and it broke my heart. She has been defiant and nasty to her mom because I have been gone a lot and it felt like when I was a cop. Her words. Do you know how that feels? Erg. Yeah. I felt like a big turd on shit mountain.

Yeah. That hit me in the guts.

But it doesn't mean she needs to act bad.

So I had to explain that while I am getting my Master's Degree it's going to be a little crazy like this but I made some concessions to help ease her mind. I am going to make more crock pot ideas in the mornings and have things other than pb and j, mac and cheese, fruit, and frozen Totinos pizza on hand. The fruit counteracts the processed, right? Ack.

She told me she really likes my cooking and likes to eat OUT WITH THE OLD. I don't eat that processed food, so why should she. It is here I have failed. I also promised to have one night (at least) a week that we have our day to do something together. We do chat and share each night but it really is only an hour.  Then our day is done and we go to bed. That is not a lot of time.

It was a good cleanse of my daughter's heaviness and to see her sob was very hard and my heart broke. But it was good to get it out. And then we decided to torture the dogs and get selfies with them. They did not like it. Here is a sample of Oliver's torture.

Notice his look of "save me".
"Lady...come at me one more time with that phone camera."

And all settled down to "NORMAL" or what we call normal. 

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Confessions Of A Hot Mess Slacker Mom with Pictorials

Howdy, camo lovers!

I suppose you think I left this blog in the dust. Well, that is partly true, partly false. Making sensical? Nah. I just really didn't have anything outstanding to share and posts. Scary, quite frankly, that I would have nothing important or dramatic to say.


Oh. Boy.

There is no use in catching you up to date because that would be a boring waste of my time and about 15 minutes off your life you couldn't get back.

I signed up for a Spartan race next summer. Why? Because I'm crazy. Another reason is because the price was sliced in super sale in order to generate some interest so I decided to try it out. It has been many years since I have competed in an obstacle course and now is the time to really get rolling.

Bug just got her learner's permit. I was proud she passed it and now we have to log hours. and they have to be parent approved, parent co piloted, and I had to sign for financial responsibility at the state BMV for anything she does while driving. Fuck Me In The Ass. I also had to sign sworn affidavits that I am the one who gets sued. Where's her father in all this? Oh...yeah. No where. In another state. Indiana is rigid for teen driving. I am not opposed to that. I think it is a pretty good plan. However, I am super NOT HAPPY about the privatization of driver's education. Holy balls! If I want her to do that it is $500 and the school does not sponsor it. It is a private company. But my insurance rates are literally going to be unaffordable without out. Yep, they have you by the balls.

All this teen driving and driver's education costs has me frazzled. I am pretty sure it is a government conspiracy to give parents heart attacks to keep the cardiologists in business, thus jacking up insurance rates to make everyone love Obamacare and keeping the government in business with all this regulation and fees.

Do I sound like those way left or right wing conspiracy theorists? Not yet? Maybe I should try harder.

As for me, I am still here working out trying to lose weight, going to grad school, trying to restore homes, working a full time job, being a slacker mom,and always a hot mess. Still single. Men just don't work out for me.It's sad really, because I really like sex. I really like to be active. I like all kinds of things and I am a generous person but I am too independent and strong willed and my own person. BUT I do like to be treated like a princess and a lady. It just isn't happening. I know how to pick 'em. I also have gotten stood up. Do you know how long that has been since that has happened? Like freshman year in college. And that guy was a dick so God was watching out for me. I seriously would consider women if I was attracted to them because they at least are on the same page, but alas, no sexual desires that direction. I'm just not gay.

I mean, who doesn't want to hang out with this hot mess?
I wear pigtails for Pete's Sake. 

My office manager got after me today for my attire. Literally. She ripped my ass for wearing clothes that are too sexy for the office lately. I was like fucking kidding me, right? This is what I wore today: grey on top with black pants and black shoes. I look like a freaking school marm. But it is colder than a witch's tit in this office so this is what I look like today.

I know. I look tired and old. It's part of my outfit. 

And this is what I wore last Friday because Friday we can wear jeans and dress like slobs. I chose to dress like a college student.
No camouflage. Rats. I will work on that.

Mostly, I wear shirts up to my neck and pants or a long skirt. It really isn't even exciting. NOR is it really fashionable. I wear fun things after work. So this all struck me as weird. One time I got quips for wearing cross necklaces and they came at me like..."you like a lot of crosses, I see." I work in international programs so it raises bells. I wear them proudly because it is what I am. I love Jesus. Fuck 'em. I know, God, I'm sorry. But in my defense it was to uphold my Christianity and religious freedom.

Last Tuesday, I wore this and even pulled the shirt up so my boob crack didn't show. I did not get one "talking to" that day:

Did not go to work with boob crack showing.
I pulled that shirt up higher and adjusted prior to work.

So this is a mystery. And I am beginning to think that I can't do anything right in her eyes. It really is hard sometimes for me to separate the things I think are just office culture and business versus personal attacks. But...guess what...I just blow it off. No sexual pun intended there. I do have some great bosses and they actually have complimented me on my suits and other attire by saying it is nice someone in the office has dressed for success. And I don't have to get down on my knees either. Whew. That creates a lot of jaw issues and complicated positions to get up from because at my age...things don't work as spry as they used even as soon as 5 years ago. all honesty...I know the difference between class and trash. I will be shoulders back, head high, and tits up to work. And for all you snobby nosed personnel who think tasteful fashion is something you have to mock or put someone down for...shame on you. Just because you want to look like a frumpy dumpycus doesn't mean I have to nor does anyone else. Dress who you are and dress appropriately for work. That's the rules. 

Keep you nastiness to yourself. Don't be a nasty woman. Yes, pun there intended.