Shit You Should Know

Monday, September 27, 2010

Sexual Healing

Mark my words! Super Deuce is going to be the death of me.

Today shortly after my children came home from school, my doorbell rang. The teenager from across the street was at my doorstep looking a bit frazzled. She said, “Is your dog okay?”

This confused me because I had no idea why he wouldn’t be. “I’m pretty sure. Why?”

“Your dog got out and attacked my dog.”

My heart sank.
She has a little yippee dog and, as you see, I have a 65 lb. sumo beast. I really thought she was going to tell me that he mauled her dog. Without hesitation I told her if she ends up taking Fuzzball (or whatever the dog’s name is) to the vet, I would take care of it.

After she left I thought it would be a good idea to bring the rabies certificate over so that the family would know that my dog wasn’t harboring cooties. This time I spoke to the girl and the grandmother. The grandmother said they checked the dog pretty thoroughly and didn’t find any cuts or anything and they said she wasn’t limping or acting like she was in any pain.

After talking to her I found out, her dog was a female. The girl said Deuce chased the dog down the street and pinned it down. Knowing this, I thought it was outrageous that her dog was even still alive. She said she yelled at him to go home and he did. She said he just trotted right back into the garage.
Then it dawned on me that the reason her dog did not become a Scooby snack was because my Deuce is a lover not a fighter. He was looking to score some poochie tail. His internal soundtrack was probably blaring Marvin Gay’s “Let’s Get It On” as he chased the bitch down the street. Deuce needs a prostitute quick!

Later, I discussed the importance of closing the garage door once again with my kids. My son said he pressed the button to shut the garage and my daughter backed up his story. They NEVER agree which made me think maybe, just maybe, he did actually think he closed the garage door. Maybe it started to shut and the dumb ass dog jetted out and was picked up by the sensors which would have made the door open back up. The world will never know. I’m just glad no one (animal or human) was hurt.

The dog is going to make me crazy! In the words of Annie (Annie, 1982), “Dumb dog, dumber than they come, dog. You’re the most presuming dog that a human could know.”

P.S. Just for shits and giggles…

I just told my son to go take a bath and my daughter informed him that he smelled like butt with a splash of whip cream. LMAO! WTF!

Friday, September 24, 2010

Would Jesus Like To Buy Some Popcorn?

Children are pretty interesting little creatures especially when they are your own. I’ve said before my son aspires to be a comedian and my daughter aspires to be a model as reflected by their day to day actions. Luckily, if those dreams happen to fall through they always have entrepreneurship to fall back on.
Currently, popcorn sales are underway for the Boy Scouts so my son is busting his ass trying to sell some overly-priced snack products. He called my husband’s grandfather and tried to convince him to purchase a $50 tin of chocolate covered crap. He did the same when he called my parents. He managed to get about $20 out of each of them.
My daughter felt the need to exercise her sales pitching skills as well so she got on the phone with my mom to tell her that I was selling stuff on eBay and she should definitely go there and bid on something…especially if it was something of hers. The agreement is whichever of their belongings sell they get to have the money. She loved selling Girl Scout cookies in the past but the thought of being able to keep the money for herself is all the more thrilling to her.
After that lovely conversation, my son asked if we were buying any popcorn. So I told the kids to pick something and braced myself for one or both of them to declare dibs on the $50 diabetic coma in a collector’s can. As I’ve said many times in other blog posts, every so often they do or say things that surprise you. This particular time was one of those times. My children agreed…let me back up here…they AGREED (!?!?!?) on the exorbitant cheese trio. They also asked if we could order a box of spicy microwave popcorn for their daddy’s first care package. How could I say no to their harmony and generosity? I mean, it seems so rare lately. Needless to say, it will cost a retarded $55 for approximately 40 ounces of popcorn.

Later, I took the boy to ask a few of our neighbors if they wanted to order anything to support the Boy Scouts. We ended up at Mrs. Sphere’s house. Mrs. Sphere is a very nice woman, extremely kind and intensely Christian. Anytime you go over there, you are always invited in and offered a glass of iced tea. Each time I go in I get stuck their at least an hour while she talks about her church and her favorite savior, Jesus, even though (or should I say more so since) I told her I was an agnostic on the cusp of atheism. I guess in a way I’m a sort of “project” for her. Boo! Thank goodness my boy had to go to his Boy Scout meeting. First rule of scouting, “Be prepared.” In this case, I knew I needed an exit strategy in place before we went there. Evacuation successful!
It really bugs me that nearly every person I come into contact with around here is nauseatingly nice but so blinded by their faith that they come across as illogical and unreasonable. I can’t deal with that. It burns me that people like Mrs. Sphere, while painfully sweet, feel the need to tell me about how great their god is every time I talk them. You are Christian. I get it, jeez! I’m not. We don’t need to discuss this topic every time we run into each other. Now shut the fuck up...please, ma'am. (You got to respect your elders.)
Here’s a thought. Does anyone else find it interesting that Christians, Mormons, and Jehovah’s Witnesses always seem to try to convert you? Ironically enough, they all think the other is wrong yet they believe in the same god. I’ve never been approached for conversion by a Muslim or a Jew. They must have a much more discriminating recruitment process. Another thought is Christians in particular talk about treating people the way you want to be treated. Well, if you don’t want me to try to alter your convictions than word from the wise, “Back off!!”
I try to teach my children tolerance for all people. Yep, tolerance is the key…that and a heaping helping of avoidance. In my opinion, religion itself is about as useless as expensive popcorn encased in a metal canister.  Maybe my son should hit Jesus up and see if he's in the market to purchase some popcorn.  What would Jesus do?  He would buy some popcorn.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Back on the Sauce

There are days when my children are little angels. Then, my alarm clock goes off and I realize those weren't my kids at all, but some faceless little dream people. *wink*

Honestly, my kids are great. Yes, they both have these larger than life personalities and, yes, they stress me out more often then I’d like but after I calm down I am usually able to giggle about some of the crazy things that they do and say. Today was one of those days…

My children were finishing up their chores when their friends stopped by to play. I told them they had to finish but their friends were welcome to wait for them since they were both so near completion. I told my daughter to vacuum her room which she did with no problem. Of course, she isn’t the one that seems to lack in the cleanliness department. My son, on the other hand, is a whole other story. (Mom, if you are reading this and I KNOW you are, thanks a lot for your parental curse and for the record my husband does not “trip” through the door so, HA!)
That boy, he is just perfectly satisfied with being funky. If I didn’t tell him to bathe he never would…EVER! Today I walked into his room and something just reeked. It smelled like a combination of rotten bologna and ass crack. When I told him his room was stanktastic, he retorted by saying, “I don’t smell anything.” Of course you can’t, you goober, you’re used to it. Most people don’t recognize their own B.O. especially if they are normally putrid.

While trying to decipher exactly where the stench was coming from without actually sticking my nose up to anything (I didn’t want to pass out, ok??), I told him to take the dirty clothes basket out of his room and change the sheets on his bed and then I’d come in there and Febreeze the shit out of the place. I, then, went about my task of cooking an exquisite meal aka Hamburger Helper.

Later, he came through the kitchen with his friend and said he was done and he was going to play outside. I specifically asked him, “Did you change your sheets?” “Yes.”, he said. Then I asked, “Did you make your bed?” (You got to be very specific!) “Yes.”, he said again. I told him after I finished getting our fancy grub going I would be taking a stroll into his room for verification.  He nodded and walked out the door.
Who thinks he did what was asked of him? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller? Beuller? If you guessed “not a chance in hell” you, my friend, are right! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!
Shockingly, when I went into his room his bed was made. For a second there (and only a second) the heavens opened up and a majestic being surrounded by a radiant white light extended his arms towards me and began to speak in some other worldly tongue. Then I realized the smell of week old gym socks and stale Funyuns were causing me to hallucinate. I glanced over to the dirty clothes basket and it was empty. So where were his sheets? I quickly held my breath and pulled back the comforter just enough to see the same army green sheets on his bed. Damn it, boy!!

At this point, I was angry that he didn’t change his sheets but I was furious that he had lied straight to my face. Enough is enough. It dawned on me that with my husband being away for quite some time I needed to pull in the reins before things got to out of control.
I marched outside and told him to come inside immediately. Once inside, I asked him again if he changed his sheets. He told me he did. I ask him where the old sheets were. He told me they were in his dirty clothes basket. Lies! Lies! Lies! So, I told him I smell bullshit and it stinks almost as bad as his room.
In my calmest yet stern voice (which by the way is more difficult to execute than you might think considering the present circumstances), I told him that I was fed up with his lies and from now on when he lies I will be putting a dab of hot sauce in his mouth. Now I’m not talking wimpy ass Tabasco either. I’m talking hot as a mofo, burning like the freaking sun in your mouth HAWT sauce! I whipped out my husband’s “a little dab will do ya” hot sauce conveniently called “After Death Sauce”. The sight of the bottle made my son start to cry REAL tears. Part of me wanted to take pity and let it go at that but I’m the Queen of Empty-Threats usually which is part of the problem with my kids lately. I knew that by not following through with this he would think he got over on me once again.

Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and put just a smidgen on my index finger. The boy kept backing away from me and I blatantly told him if I need to hold him down so be it. Finally, he gave in and I lightly touched his tongue with my finger. It was barely any but it doesn’t take much to make you feel it.
He proceeded to cry (and I don’t blame him) and pant with his tongue hanging out. I let him squirm for maybe a minute. I’m sure it seemed like at least a half an hour to him. Then, I handed him a glass of milk and a tortilla to help neutralize the burn.

Afterwards, I explained to him that the lying had to stop and this is the new way to remedy it. You lie. You get hot sauce in your mouth. Period. I’m considering implementing this for back talking as well. We’ll see.

Later after their friends went home, I noticed the vacuum in the middle of the floor. I asked the kids which one of them left it there. Of course, both of them said, “Not me!” I pretty much knew it was my daughter because she was the one I told to vacuum earlier. So, I turned to my son and said, “Boy, did you tell your sister what happened to you earlier when you lied to me?” He proceeded to tell her the tale of the sauce. Almost immediately, she leaped up and declared that it was, in fact, her and she raced to rectify the problem.
Maybe to some people this all seems cruel but I’ve never been one to really put my hands on my children other than a swat here and a slap there. I’m always cautious because I have a tendency to loose my temper and the last thing I want to do is hurt them. Now the previous statements are, by no means, me trying to explain myself to anyone that is reading this. I am merely stating facts. I am truly hoping that by giving them a taste of the sauce it will have a similar effect that smacking a toddler’s hand does when they touch an electrical outlet. If I can’t get them to stop the lies now at the young ages of 10 and 7, I am royally fucked when they reach their teen years. I got to stop the madness.  Too bad kids don't come with a manual or at least a website...

Just a quick note here…

I had every intention of blogging about my children and their entrepreneurial tendencies but the above topic had me so heated I had to vent. Hopefully, I’ll get to my children and the future of sales pitching tomorrow evening. That is, if neither of my children don’t end up starting Armageddon between now and then. Cross your fingers for me and my sanity.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Progress Reports and Perplexing Punishments

Progress reports came home today. I wish I could be excited but instead I’m flustered. My son is in danger of failing reading while my daughter is in danger of failing spelling. Any one who knows my son knows he is a great reader…always has been. He’s also extremely articulate. I suppose that’s why it is so damn frustrating. As for my daughter, I think her problem can be remedied with more drilling as passing a spelling test is basically just a form of memorization.

Weeks ago I warned both of my children that should progress reports come home and either of them were in danger of failing there would be repercussions. Those consequences are as follows:
1.) Homework must be done immediately upon returning from school. This includes studying. (Neither this one or #2 are really new but they go hand in hand with the others.)

2.) Chores must be executed following homework.

3.) There will be no access to TV, Xbox, Wii, Nintendo DS, PSP, or the computer on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

4.) Lastly, only after homework and chores are completed and approved will playtime with friends be allowed.

My kids were already used to #1 and #2 and for the most part #4. The third rule was unfathomable to them! You seriously would have thought I threatened to amputate an arm without anesthesia the way they whined and carried on. It was sad. My daughter was cutting deals like crazy. She was ready to not play with anyone all week long just please, please let her watch her idiot box!
Now we wait until report cards and see if there is an improvement. Let’s hope so.

I'm About To Lose My Mind...Up In Here!

This school year is going to freaking kill me!

I spoke to my son’s teacher, Mrs. T, today.  I am very glad I had the weekend to simmer down. I was able to speak very calmly to her about the whole ADD issue from Friday.

After speaking to her, I feel she is genuinely concerned about my son. She said she doesn’t want to treat him like he’s lazy if he really does have something wrong with him.

Her side of the story (wait to you see how unlike the boy’s it is)…
She said around dismissal on Friday she noticed that he did not complete grading his paper that they went over in class. She pulled him to the side to ask why. She said he looked confused and she felt that he really had zoned out during the review time. She also said he does this a lot. He’ll go off to la-la land and stare off into the distance. She said she has also seen him doodling numerous times.

My take on this is simply he is bored. When I’m doing something I don’t want to do or something that is boring my mind drifts too. It’s all I can do not to impale myself on the nearest sharp object. I also think that another factor is he has a tendency to be lazy as all hell when he doesn’t want to do something.

I don’t see how a kid that can play video games for hours or take a 12 hour car ride or sit through a movie or even sit quietly and read a book can have ADD. I just can’t! Of course, I’m no expert either.

Mrs. T also told me that when she spoke to the boy she asked him if he was or ever was on medication. He told her yes but I don’t know if he really understood her. He’s never been on any type of medication that treated mental or behavioral issues. All he’s ever taken (other than over the counter stuff) is allergy meds. When I told her this she kind of hesitated. I think she had thought she had hit the nail on the head with her theory.
After I got off the phone with her, I decided there was only one way to solve this. I called the pediatrician to find out if patients are automatically tested for things like ADD or if it something that has to be requested. I figured if it’s automatic they could check the charts for me. Wouldn’t you know it? Nothing is that simple.

I was told that I needed to contact the school counselor to request a Vanderbilt Assessment. Apparently, this assessment has a part I fill out, a part the teacher fills out, and then we see the pediatrician so he can evaluate. I figure, we do this and one of us has to be right. If I’m right, he’s bored and sometimes lazy. If Mrs. T is right, he has a problem that is beyond his control without the proper treatment. Either way, something needs to change for him because the route he’s going is going to lead him straight back to the fifth grade.
For the record, I do NOT believe in pumping my children up with medication for the hell of it. I will try whatever other forms of therapy are available and use the zombie meds as the absolute LAST resort. I think if he can learn how to cope with it and we can understand it better we will know how to help him along, so he can help himself.

Can someone say stress????

Another fun moment today was after school. My daughter came through the door all by herself. I asked where her brother was. She informed me that she waited for him for “like a half an hour”. I made it clear that it was impossible since school only dismissed ten minutes ago. She has no concept of time (or money but that is a whole other story).
At this point, I knew my son would be panicking when he couldn’t find her. So, I grabbed my shoes and headed over to the school. I needed to find him so he knew she was safe. I tell you, they fight like cats and dogs but they look out for one another.

As I got about halfway to school I saw my son coming down the street with my daughter’s teacher, Mrs. Pony (that’s not really her name but it fits her). My son was smart enough to let Mrs. Pony know when he couldn’t find her.
My daughter said she figured since her brother was sick yesterday, she assumed he had gotten checked out when she didn’t see him right away at dismissal. I told her if ever I check either of them out, I will always have the office notify the other one. Also, I told her she is NEVER to walk home alone. I told her I would come up to school to get her. She’s seven and she’s cute and I can’t help but fear the perverts of this world. Better safe than sorry. Too bad I can’t find a fairy godmother to do the whole Sleeping Beauty spell on her. Damn fairytales!
Whew! I’m glad today is over. I need to catch up on some cleaning tomorrow. I’ve been listing so much crap on eBay I’ve neglected a few chores. I’ve got to get back on track.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Off To a Rocky Start

Normally, I try to be on the teacher’s “side” when it comes to my children only because I believe that for the best interest of any child, teachers and parents need to be a united front. Sometimes teacher do things so foolish that makes me wonder how I even begin to support it.

My son came home on Friday and informed me that I would be getting a call from his teacher. “God damn it!” I responded, “What did you do now, boy?” Of course, he said nothing. The word “dumb ass” must be written across my forehead in some sort of ink that only children under 12 can see. “Ok.” I say, “I suppose Mrs. T is just calling to chit chat, right? She wants to know how my day went. Is that it?” Then the tale begins…
My son says during class the teacher told him she was going to call me to tell me to bring him to the doctor because he needs to be put on medication to calm down. In my head, I heard screeching tires! What the fuck?!?! Not only did she say these words to my son BUT she had the audacity to say them in front of a class full of other students. I have never in all my life had anyone say that about my kid…either of them. In ten years, my son has seen six different pediatricians, not to mention ones he saw when his regular doctor was not in. None of them have ever even hinted that my child needed medication to “calm him down”. Not to mention when he was younger, we went a few times to see a therapist during one of my husband’s deployments. I’m sure the therapist would have picked up on a problem.

Don’t get me wrong. My child is perfectly capable of being annoying and obnoxious but you tell me what kid isn’t. He’s a ten year old boy for crying out loud. If his teacher wants a zombie, she’s going to have to come up with a plausible argument for me to even consider making him a doctor’s appointment.

On the other side of the spectrum, part of me wonders if Mrs. T even said what he claims. She never called me which could mean he’s full of shit. Of course, if my teacher had already called my mom on two separate occasions the last thing I would want to do is make up a lie that she was going to call once again.
The boy does lie and he is so bad at it. For instance, yesterday he took a ride with Buddy to the store. While in the car Buddy told him to call me ask if I needed anything from Wal-Mart. I told him no. However, when he hung up with me he told Buddy I wanted watermelon. I don’t even like watermelon. Buddy ended up calling me because my son couldn’t wipe the goofy ass look off of his face. See? The boy lies and he sucks at it.

In a way I’m glad that he told me about what his teacher said on a Friday evening. At least I had the weekend to cool off. I was ready to smack a bitch on Friday. Now I am more capable of calling school tomorrow morning to talk to Mrs. T in a cool and collected manner. I have to call her. I have to know if this happened or not. Either way someone is going to get chewed out no matter if it’s the teacher or my son.
I look at this way. If Mrs. T said that for whatever reason she should not be teaching. You just don’t say things like that to kids. There is protocol to follow when it comes to carrying out discipline and she should be following that. Basically telling my child that there is something wrong with him in front of his peers is NOT the correct way to handle it under any circumstances. I will report her to the principal and the school board if I find out that she did say those things to him.

If on the other hand my son is lying about this, he will be loosing his Xbox and computer privileges for an undetermined amount of time and he will be grounded for an entire week maybe two.

Today he’s sick. He’s been running fever on and off all day and he threw up this morning. I knew he was sick as soon as I laid eyes on him. How convenient for him if he’s sick tomorrow. Regardless, I’m calling school.

In lighter news…

You ever notice that kids can be easily occupied with boxes. It makes me wonder how the toy industry makes so much damn money. My daughter and her friend played for hours with two empty 12-pack beer boxes on their heads yesterday. Too bad I didn’t have wrapping paper tubes to with it! They could have jousted. My daughter stashed the boxes in her closet and today when her friend came back they played with them again.
Kids…you can’t live with and you can’t send them to outer space.  Oh, and you can't skip parent teacher conferences either.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Not Much To Report

Another day, another call from my son's teacher...

What the hell am I going to do with him?  Mrs. T said he has missed a few homework assignments.'s like fourth grade all over again!

To back open house she said that they rarely give work designated for at home.  Instead, the students are required to finish any work they fail to complete in class at home.  Easy enough, right?  Apparently, this goes over my son's head.  For the past few weeks he's been coming home with next to nothing in his backpack, telling me he finished it in class.

So now, Mrs. T and I are requiring him to have his planner initialed by each of us everyday.  This is the sort of shit I was hoping he would be done with at this point.  He is so much like my husband used to be...does just enough to get by no matter what his potential is.  It's enough to make me want to shake the snot of him.  Is shaken baby syndrome still relevant for a 5th grader?  Would it be shaken pre-teen syndrome?  They tell you not to shake your babies but I've never heard anyone say don't shake your almost middle schooler.  I'd like to announce my advocacy to this subject matter.   Maybe it would rattle some sense into his know, activate his "school is more important than my xbox" receptor.

Kids!  Can't live with them...can't sell them on the black market.  You know, when I was young and stupid I wanted five kids.  Now I have two and I'm glad I'm one of those people that rarely finish what I start.  Hooray for procrastination (and birth control)!

In other news...

Lately, I've been watching that show, Hoarders, on A&E.  I purged the file cabinet of useless, outdated papers all while watching an episode.  Does that make me bulimic?

I've been making the kids go through their rooms and bring me things that they don't use or want.  Some things are being posted on eBay and some things are being posted on my local freecycle group.  What ever is left is going to Goodwill.

My summer time guilty pleasure, Big Brother, has ended.  It's a sick and ugly addiction, I know.  Many times I thought my family would stage an intervention but I guess they just don't love me enough.  It probably doesn't help that half of my family is addicted too.  We need family rehab.  After such a lousy season maybe CBS will not bring it back for a 13th season (yes, I fucking said 13...I'm as shocked as you are).  If that happens we can all quit cold turkey.

The best news of the husband got his first paycheck from the new job.  I was able to catch up on all of the bills and still had money left over.  No worries!  I love it.

Any ho-ha...

As the title says, "not much to report"...hopefully, I'll have more to share soon.  Don't
miss me too much.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Somebody Call An Ambulance!

My daughter damn near gave me a heart attack!

Her friend came knocking on the door looking for her.  I went into her room to tell her someone was here for her.  She wasn't there even though the Jonas Brothers were blaring from her television.  I told her friend to go ahead in the backyard because by the art of deduction I assume she was back there.

Shortly later, her friend came back and told me she wasn't there either.  It's very unlike my daughter to wonder off so my heart is racing.  I go across the street to see if she is playing at one girls house and the friend checks another house.  Both of us met back empty handed.  I decide to go back into our yard to see if maybe she was hiding from her friend.  She wasn't.

At this point I am thinking, I'm going to call my son to see if she went off with him and his friend.  In the back of my mind I am debating at what point does someone call the police which, of course, gives me butterflies.  You know that feeling you used to get when you were a little kid and you thought you were lost in the grocery store?  Yeah, well, it felt like that only like ten times worse.  I sure it's because it wasn't the thought of "Oh no, my parents abandoned me.".  It was more like, "Oh shit!  This is like the begining of an episode of Law & Order: SVU."  Let me tell you...NOT a good feeling.

So as I am searching for my cell phone, my daughter's friend happens to look in my bedroom and there's my daughter.  That little shit was sitting on my bed in the dark on the computer freaking playing Petville in Facebook!!  I wanted to strangle her and hug her all at the same time.

You know I've heard people say that there is nothing like getting the heart racing to remind you that you're alive.  Uhhhhh...yeaaaaah...I'm going to stick to roller coaster and horror movies.  I think I have had enough excitement for today.  I'm going to have a stiff drink now to recuperate.

Random Ramblings

I suppose I should advise you now that this will not be a typical blog about one topic. No. This post is going to end up a random mess of ideas, thoughts, and perceptions. There are a lot of erratic things going on in my brain at 1000 mph all at once. It’s like I have ADHD or something.


With summer coming to an end and the crazy 107 degree weather a thing of the distant past, my sinuses are going haywire. The kids have been all sniffly too. I got both of them their flu shot. My son yanked his arm away from the guy administering it. Then complained for the next few hours about how bad his arm hurt. I told the goober that he made it worse by being a wimp. Not to mention after all these years a doctor has finally realized my children do in fact have allergies and require prescriptions. Hooray! More ways to spend money! Yippee! Honestly, I’d rather buy shoes.

With no husband since mine is away at training awaiting his overseas "adventure", I am pretty lonely. I don’t mean in sexual sort of way (yet, anyway). Since we haven’t lived here long, I have yet to really click with anyone. I guess I’m anti-social but people tend to be jerks and/or pains in the ass. I prefer to keep my distance. Besides, everyone I’ve come across so far is very involved in their church. Although these people seem nice (and I’m sure most of them really are), I feel obligated to stifle who I am around them and I just find that to be challenging and down right unfair.

The truth is I curse, I drink, I smoke, and usually in that order. Furthermore, my faith (or lack thereof) falls somewhere in the middle of agnostic and atheist. That alone is enough to make me a social outcast here on the Bible belt. Of course, I’ve never been the sort of person to run out and join a club just to fit in and I’m not about to start now. When I think about it I’ve always been a sort of pariah in my own way and I’m okay with that. I much prefer to go my own way and not be just another sheep in the flock.

And now for something completely different…

Right now we are behind on a few bills. To prepare for my husband leaving the country, we had to dip into some of funding to pay for things like expedited passports, etc. One of the things that we are behind in right now is our truck note. I called to tell them we would be late but they still call EVERY day. It’s pretty annoying. It’s almost like they think if they call a ridiculous amount of time, the money I owe will miraculously materialize in my bank account. If that were the case, I’d be late all the time in hopes that money would overflow from my checkbook.  I'm greedy like that.  I like dollar, dollar bills, ya'll!

Since I’ve managed to get to the topic of money, I’ve been having a problem with email scams. This week alone I was contacted by two people (maybe it was actually the same person, I don’t know) about wanting to purchase Avon products from me. One person wanted to mail me a money order or cashiers check all the way from the United Kingdom to purchase almost $500 worth of products. The other person wanted me to run their credit card for over $2000 worth of stuff but mama didn't raise no fool. Don’t get me wrong. I would LOVE to get a huge ass order but I’m not a moron either. I’m not about to let some scammer take me for a ride. It makes me wonder how many foolish people have been scammed by these people.

Oh, by the way…shameless plug here…if you want to order Avon you can check out my online store at All orders $30 or more receive FREE direct shipping to anywhere in the U.S. Sorry. I couldn’t resist.

And way out in left field…WHY am I just getting around to watching Arrested Development?? Seriously! I recently watched the entire series on Netflix, a total of three seasons. That is one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. It’s right up there with My Name Is Earl and The Simpsons. I hate when gems such as these get past me. Apparently, it got past a lot of people since it was cancelled after the third season. The narrator in one episode even made the comment, “Tell your friends about this show.” If you haven’t watched it, you really should. And, of course, you can trust me. I mean, I have a blog on the Internet. Would someone who was lying to you be out here in the World Wide Web?

MUAHAHAHA! Sorry. I can’t help myself. There’s another reason I don’t have many friends. I lack self-control. At least, I had the decency to warn you from the beginning of this roller coaster ride of randomness so I can’t be all bad, right? Wait! Don’t answer that.