Somewhere Over The Rainbow, It Burns When I Pee

A few of you out there recognize true awesomeness when you see it. Then there are the rest of you that seem to have a warehouse of blog awards that you pass around like STDs at a frat party. Ironically, I was given an STD recently and, no, it did not involve cheating on my husband. And before you say, “Gee, Asha, I didn’t know you could get STDs from your vibrator,” I must warn you all. You are NOT safe. This STD was contracted through the blogosphere! Jewel over at Really?! Wait! What? and I are apparently getting a little too close and now I have a damn STD with no cure. No, it isn’t herpes or even AIDS. Jewel gave me…the Sexy & Talented Diploma.

As with all blog awards, there are rules. However, this one had an interesting meme that makes me want to infect as many of you as possible, mainly because the bulk of you have the creative brain power to rock this shit.

Rules:

1. Make up ONE totally ridiculous story about yourself that is a complete rip-off from a movie. It can be as long or short as you want; clean or crass as you want.

2. Pass it on to whomever you feel is deserving of this STD – or accept it and keep it for yourself; it’s your blog – it’s your choice.

3. If you choose to accept this STD, please link your acceptance post back to the person who gave you your STD. I was also supposed to link it to some other site but, well, you know me and rules. Check out Jewell’s acceptance speech…err, confession if you need more information. She obviously follows rules better than me.

Please turn off your cellphones.  Remove all crying children.  Be sure you have your overly priced popcorn and soda.

Now for your feature presentation:

Living in the suburbs of Oklahoma, I took many things for granted. Even though everything wasn’t always black and white, it was always a shade of gray at best. That is until that fateful day when a twister sucked me up and spit me out in a strange land of color. It’s possible I was raptured but it’s unlikely.

Seems I sat on one lady with interesting socks and killed her. The land of midgets didn’t mind. Apparently, she was a kind of a jerk anyway. They warned me of her sister who was an uber bitch. They feared she would probably try to kick my ass at some point to avenge her sister. I shrugged it off and asked the mayor what they did for fun around there and by fun I meant where could I get drunk.

After knocking back a few, this ugly chick showed up. There wasn’t beer goggles thick enough to make her look hot. She was running her mouth about…I don’t really know. I wasn’t listening. I was trying to get my hands on one of those large lollipops.

I decided the only way to get this woman to shut her yapping would be to get her a drink or two. I snagged a couple of beers and figured the two us could take a stroll down the yellow brick road and have us a nice little chitty chat.


Well, being the klutz that I am, I ended up tripping over my own two damn feet. Both beers flew out of my hand and spilled all over that lady. If I said she wasn’t happy, I’d be cheating you from the over dramatic wailing she was doing. She was hooting and hollering something fierce about how the world was so horrible and she was melting or something. She ended up a hot green gunky mess right there on the yellow brick road. Good thing those little midgets used Bounty, the quicker picker upper, because I only needed one sheet to soak that wicked bitch up.

These little guys knew how to party. Regardless of how much fun I was having, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to go home. Luckily, this fabulous little neurotic who really liked pink showed up and reminded me I had awesome shoes that could pretty much get me anywhere as long as I didn’t kick her dog with them.

I also met a stickman with an interesting vocabulary that was running for president, a night owl who gave himself nuclear headaches over his interest in scatology, and an atypical primate who owned a seedy motel.


I’m not sure which of my new friends it was but one of them (probably the primate) suggested that I just keep drinking and that would get me home. I must have passed out at some point. I woke up the next morning in a random motel room with a nuclear sized headache surrounded by naked midgets and crudely drawn campaign posters. My shoes were missing and I’m going to assume that there is a neurotic strutting her stuff fabulously in Texas somewhere. Next time, I’ll avoid taking advice from a primate.


The End

In case, you haven’t guessed it. I’m sharing my STD with these guys (and gal):
Bryan of Notes From A Night Owl, Nuclear Headache, and My Brown Log
Scott of Atypical Read and Tales From A Motel
Chanel of Fabulously Neurotic
Doug of I Like Cheese and Made Up Words
You can also find short quips of wisdom from this bunch over at Fabulous Atypical Headaches of Third Shift Cheese.

Now that they have all been infected, I have faith that this motley crew will not hold back in the entertainment department.

Also, Bryan bestowed an additional award on me…one that involves NO RULES! In a way, I’m relieved. I don’t think my brain could handle another set today.

Thanks again to Jewel for lathering me up with your blog cooties and thanks Bryan for withholding your torture this time. You guys are great!

Lastly, if you guys love me...I mean, REALLY love me you'll go vote for my banana cake.  The poll is on the left hand side of the page.

Summer Can't Come Quickly Enough

Twenty seven more days until school is out for summer. I’m completely mixed about it. On one hand, the thought of not having a break from the kids is a little terrifying especially since my husband is deployed. On the other, this school year has been such a merciless headache that summer may just be the relief the kids and I need.


In the beginning of this school year, I was really struggling to get my son on track. He was being completely lackadaisical when it came to his schoolwork which caused his teacher to request that he be tested for ADD and ADHD. It not only turned out to be a false alarm but the tests showed that my fifth grader was reading on an eighth grade level. These results didn’t shock me but it did make me proud that there was now proof that there was nothing wrong with him. On the inside I basically chanted “Ninny ninny boo boo!” and “I told you so. Now shut the fuck up and teach my kid!!!”

Although his grades were improving, his dislike for his teacher became more and more defined. Many days the boy would come home and as soon as he would walk through the door he would began ranting about how awful his teacher was. We would sit down and discuss it. I would try so hard to help him see her side even though I was grappling with some of her ways myself.

He’s expressed to me that he feels as if she is always picking on him and singling him out. I explained to him that he is partially to blame. He gave her such a hard time in the beginning of the year that she now has her eye on him all the time. So now if he farts crooked, she’s going to know about it. It’s not fair but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, little dude. I told him the best thing to do is to stay off of her radar and the way to do that is to not give her ammunition. Trying to convince him to work harder and keep his mouth shut and his nose clean is like trying to convert the Taliban to Christianity.

Little by little I am finding out that this teacher’s way of solving the problem is by separating him from the rest of the class. At first I thought this consisted of her having to sit him next to her desk or something like that. That doesn’t bother me but I’m discovering through more and more conversations with him that she is sitting him outside of the classroom; I’m talking in the hallway or in the empty classroom next door. My concern is how the hell are you teaching my child if he isn’t even in your class?? I don’t understand how this can be helping his grades.

Yesterday, I went to speak to the guidance counselor. I expressed my concerns about the way the boy has been feeling in regards to how he is being treated. I explained to her that I am noticing a shut down on the horizon and I didn’t want it to affect the improvement he has made so far. I asked if she would maybe talk to the teacher and explain to her the affect that her style of discipline is having on my child.

The only reason have not gone to the teacher myself is I don’t think I can remain calm. Let’s face it. If you haven’t noticed my “mother bear” is showing. My child feels picked on and I’m ready to defend him. I don’t think I can talk to her without being very confrontational. Another reason I felt the need to bring a third party into the situation is simply because if this teacher truly is “picking on” my kid, I don’t want matters to get worse for him.

I also asked the counselor to talk my son. It concerns me how angry this has made him. When we talk about his school situation, you can see the fury in his eyes as they well up with tears and he clenches his fists at his sides. I thought maybe if the counselor tried to help him understand the teacher’s stance a little better, it would help. She agreed to have a conversation with him.

Later that same day was the last straw. He was late coming home. When I questioned him as to why, he said that she made him sit in the empty classroom next door. Since he was being punished when the bell rang he didn’t get up. He figured she was going to come over, lecture him, and then dismiss him. Apparently, this wasn’t his first rodeo.

When she didn’t come to speak to him after a few minutes of waiting, he said he peeked around the corner. She was sitting at her desk on the computer. It seems that she actually forgot that he was there. This infuriated me to no end!!! I called the school. The counselor answered the phone. I let her know what had happened and she advised me that I should meet with the principal. Hopefully, I’ll get a meeting soon and I keep reminding myself that this is all almost over.

Can Anyone Else Feel A Breeze?

Oklahoma weather is insane. I thought the weather in New Orleans was unpredictable. Jeez! Thursday evening the wind began to pick up. It seemed to come out of nowhere.


My baby girl had a Girl Scout egg hunt. The boy was able to participate since he’s been dubbed an official Girl Scout Brother and has been unofficially adopted by the girls…except my daughter; she wishes they’d all take him home so she can be a “lonely” child (I think she means “only”).

During the egg hunt, the wind blew up the dust and made the leaves on the ground whip up into spirals. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the grass fires that raged in the distance and a milky haze filled the sky causing the mountains to resemble ghosts. It resembled early morning fog. The evening sun struggled to shine through. None of this stopped the children from their hunting game. They ran carelessly around the fields finding their brightly colored eggs filled with sweets and trinkets, oblivious to any danger.

Later that night, the winds blew violently with gusts up to 50 miles per hour. Many times during the night, I awoke to the howling of the winds whipping through the trees as branches were snapped and thrown against the house. My daughter ended up coming to the door to ask to sleep in my bed. The commotion outside had woken her up as well and probably scared the shit out of her.

The next day as I was running errands, I noticed trees ripped from the ground by the roots and fences toppled over. Branches were everywhere. Many homes were missing shingles but the wind was relentless. It was still bludgeoning the landscape with fury.

After school, I dropped my son off at a friend’s home for a sleepover (is that what you call what boys do??). My daughter and I headed to Wal-Mart in search of a futon to put into Buddy’s old room. The wind was still blowing around something terrible and when my daughter went to get out of the truck the wind snatched that door and nearly flung her onto the pavement. Luckily, there was no vehicle parked next to us or our door would have crashed into it causing some awful damage.

As we exited the truck, my daughter called over to me that she couldn’t close the door. When I came around the truck to the passenger side, I had to jerk the door nearly as hard as I could to get it to become unstuck. I assumed the door had been whipped open further than it was supposed to and had just needed to be yanked back into place. We went ahead into Wal-Mart and I didn’t think another thing about it.

When we returned to the truck, girl child went to get back in and called me over because she couldn’t open it now. I walked over and gave the door a quick tug and the awful sound of metal filled my ears. I looked over in the direction of the hinges and saw that the door was slightly over the corner of the fender. There was chipped paint and I could see where some of the metal was bent. I could tell that the door was crooked too. On the drive home, I could hear the wind coming in through the door. It sounded like I was driving with the windows cracked.

After we returned home, I called the insurance company and they set me up with a local body shop to get an estimate. Today, I dropped by the shop to have them take a look at it. They are going to need to replace the entire fender which is going to run roughly $1400 and once they remove the door it is possible that the hinges will need to be replaced as well. Thank goodness for insurance! I will only need to pay my deductible.

The guy at the body shop was able to make a minor adjustment to try to prevent any water from coming into the truck. Although the great state of Oklahoma hasn’t seen a good rain in I don’t even know how long, I was sure the door was leaking.  Why?  Because being the genius I am I decided it would a good idea to go through the carwash to clean my dusty ass truck.

Each time the water jets came across the door, water trickled down the window. Sometimes my genius shines. I’m telling you!

Now I wait. Apparently from what the girl doing my paperwork told me, I’m not the only person that was lucky enough to get some vehicle damage from the crazy wind. It looks like it will be the beginning of May before they can get me in.

One good thing is we had an existing dent on the fender that I was planning on getting an estimate for anyway. Since the wind messed up the door on the same side, I was told that the fender needs to be replaced anyway.

So although it sucks that I can’t use the door right now, at least, I can kill two birds with one stone. Also, for the time being, I don’t have to listen to my children bicker over who is going to sit in the front seat. Thank goodness for small favors.