Parks just aren't what they used to be...  

This morning, we went to the neighborhood park at the butt crack of dawn.  Being the first ones there today, I expected to see remnants from the night before strewn all over the place - the way inner city parks are.  Boy was I shocked not to find anything spray painted or empty beer cans or syringes or the smell of piss.  Because, in town, that's the kind of shit you have to look forward to bright and early in a park... and you're lucky if you don't bump into a homeless person who made a park bench their bed for the night. At our suburban neighborhood park this morning, here's what we found:

that is a kid's shoe up on the pavillion roof....proof that somebody had one helluva party last night!

and...

three shoes and landscaping stones that some kid probably wanted to steal and their parents didn't let them because their parents suck ass (yes, we took one home with us)...

and...

Yeah....those bitches LITTERED!   For shame...

and...

instead of graffiti, there are nicely printed signs with exercising tips and famous quotes! 

George Washington can suck my left tit!   

I learned quickly that explaining what death is to a three-year-old is not easy. And I’m not smart enough, evidently, to explain it in a caring, round-about way. I blame George fucking Washington for this shit. Because, y’all, why’d that fucker have to die?! If he were still alive, the conversation I had with lil J about death would not have even happened.

Lil J: : Mommy, who’s this old guy on my money?
Me: George Washington. He was a president a long time ago.

Lil J: Oh. Well, where is he now?

Me: He’s dead.

Lil J: How’d he die?

Me: I don’t know…I guess he was just old and crusty.

Lil J: Oh.

Then, she got out of the car and went to school. And, I went on my merry way to work, figuring that was the end of that conversation. *whew*. But, when I picked her up from school, we picked right back up where we left off.

Lil J: Mommy?

Me: Huh?

Lil J: What happened to the old, crusty guy after he was dead?

Me: What do you mean?

Lil J: Where’d he go?

Me: I guess he was buried.

Lil J: WHAT?! BURIED in the DIRT?!

Me: Yes, but then his spirit went to heaven with baby Jesus.

Lil J: Poor guy.

Me: Well, everyone has to die some time.

Lil J: But, I don’t want to be dead.

Me: You have a loooong time to live, you’re not old and crusty.

Lil J: Ok.

Then, we got home. And I figured that was that. No more talk of death. We had dinner. We laughed. We played. We argued. We let the dog out. Same ol’ shit. I got Lil J in the shower, scrubbed her down, washed her hair and left her there to play a little while I washed my face and whatnot. That’s when the crying started.

Me: What in the world is wrong?!

Lil J: I don’t want to be dead!

Me: Oh, for pete’s sake. No one lives forever. It’s ok. Really.

Lil J: But, I don’t want to buried. I don’t want to be dead. I don’t want to be old and crusty.

Me: Oh, baby. It’s ok. You’ll be an angel.

Lil J: I don’t want to be an angel! I want to be a person!

That’s when I noticed Hubber in the doorway looking absolutely mortified.

Hubber: WTF?!

Me: Uhm. It’s all because of George Washington!

Hubber: What is wrong with you?! You don’t say shit like that to a baby!

Me: Baby?! She’s almost FOUR!

Hubber: Don’t listen to Mommy, she’s crazy. You don’t have to worry about dying. Ok? I promise.

Lil J: Ok, Daddy.

So, basically, I’m the bad guy and Daddy is the hero because in his little made up world, no one dies. They just go away to Neverland or some shit. What happens when someone she knows actually DOES die?! What then?! And we can’t even explain this shit in a religious type of way because we haven’t introduced Lil J to CHURCH or GOD or anyone except 8 lb, 6 oz baby Jesus for crissakes!

Anyway, so now….NOW….I’m sticking to the story that: NO, we won’t die… because, she asks me at least once a day now whether or not we’ll die. I say, “no,” and change the subject quickly. That seems to do the trick. For now.

POST UPDATED:
Holy shitballs, y'all...I just got this over email....is it a sign?? 

Who done it?! 
The paranormal shit in our house is totally out of fucking control. Now, when a door is supposed to be locked and isn't.... or water is left running in the kitchen... or closet lights are left on all day... or dog hair is mysteriously all over the sofa... or the thermostat is supposed to be on 72 and instead is on 70... we all blame the damn ghost because NOBODY else "did it".  The ghost is fucking with us, I think.  Because nothing irks Hubber like someone jacking with his A/C thermostat.  Well, accept for maybe me poking him in his arm pit.... or someone parking in front of the mailbox... or dog shit in the front yard... or empty wine glasses.  Oh, wait. Forget that last one. That's one of mine.  I think we need to set a trap and nip this ghost shit in the butt once and for all. Too bad that little squeaky lady from Poltergiest died...she would have been an awesome trap setter!

Needing a Permanent Vacation... 

So, we're in the throes of planning our next vacation. I know what you're thinking, "Damn, didn't y'all just get back from vacation a few weeks ago?"  And, yes, we did.  And the day I went back to work, I immediately began anticipating the next one. As did everyone else in my household, evidently, because every single one of them have a different idea of what we should be doing.  I wanted to chill at the beach.  With my dog.

J: I want to go to New York City to see a broadway show and the Statue of Liberty.

Lil J:  I wanna have a baycayshun!

Hubber: I'd be happy just having a staycation so there's no money spending and debauchery involved.

Me: Y'all are nuts. We're going to the beach.

Lil J: I wanna go to the beach for baycayshun!

Sis: Hey, we want to go with y'all on vacation!  Why don't you ever invite us to go?!

Me: You can come, shit.

Sis: Good. Let's go on a cruise.

Me: WTF?!

J: Ooooh....I know what would be totally like awesome!  Let's go amusement park hopping!

Me: Yeeeah....we can finally go to Dollywood!  And Graceland!

Hubber:  Graceland is not an amusement park, you're thinking of Neverland.  Besides, there are three parks in Texas...if you count Sea World....so we could save tons of money on gas!

Lil J: I don't want to go to Texas for baycayshun!!  Texas is dumb!

Sis: If we go on a cruise, we'll never have to see our kids!

Me: Where the hell is my passport!?

I have a feeling we'll never agree on what to do, so I might have to flex my mommy muscles soon in order to get shit to go my way.  There's got to be a way to incorporate my dog, Elvis, amusement parks, kid-free zones, AND the beach in this plan.

Feeling Kinda Bitchy...

My allergies have been kicking my ass lately. Evidently, Houston is experiencing historically high pollen counts and it’s that shit that is wreaking havoc on my sinuses. I am now on antibiotics for a sinus infection which means no booze for 10 days. That shit is fucked up. How’s a girl to get her thrills? And my jackass doctor said that wine counts as booze. So…basically, it’s ok for a pregnant woman to drink a couple of glasses of wine a day, but a totally UNpregnant woman with a sinus infection can’t?! WTF? Something ain’t right with this picture. And, as if that piece of news wasn’t bad enough… I had to do blood work while I was at the doctor. I try to tell those bitches that I have only one good vein, but they don’t listen…so now I look like a junkie with track marks all over my arm from where they poked me and no blood flowed.


In other news… Work sucks, y’all. I’m finding it hard to listen to these yip yappers without getting the sudden urge to poke them in the eyes with my pen. Maybe being sick has drained me of patience, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m about to go postal if they don’t get out of my face with all their nonsense. Smiling and nodding and NOT listening to them seems to work for a few minutes…the trick is to get them out of my office before I lose my shit. I’ve tried singing songs in my head. I’ve tried imagining the yip yapper with a tiny Beatlejuiced head. I’ve tried imagining I could do a Chuck Norris kick to their head and snap their neck in two seconds. I’ve tried counting the number of times they blink their eyes…or look at my boobs… or say “like”…or “and uhm”. All the while, smiling and nodding… like I give a shit. Maybe I’m just jonesing for some booze. Since I KNOW I can’t have any, it makes me want it even more which makes me irritable and totally intolerant… or intolerable… or both.

Excessive Booze, Paranormal Activity, Police Searches, Road Trips, BBQ Cook-Offs, Golf Tournaments...and all the other shit you've missed out on since my last post... 

So, let's see....where to start....where to start...?  I'm thinking the "excessive booze" doesn't really need explanation.  Because, really, y'all?  It's what I do.  I mean, I show up at my sister-in-law's house in Colorado, and what's there waiting for me?  Two bottles of vodka...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!! 

Then, I put on my STFU shirt and pop into a bar on St. Patty's day and what do I get? Green beer.

Nice, huh?  Sometimes I wonder if I should be offended because everyone sees me as a skanky lush....but then, I think again....and I say, bring on the booze peeps!

But seriously, let's get down to biddness.  Turns out our house is haunted.  And, I blame my sister, because before she moved in, there were no ghosts here. But now, all kinds of crazy shit has happened.  We hear the shutters opening and closing....the attic fan vent opening and closing...knocks on the wall... and most recently, locked doors opening.  Yeah.  So, get this.  My obsessive, compulsive sister who checks 6 times to make sure doors are closed tightly and locked was the last person to leave the house one day.  And, we all rest easy knowing that she's the last one out the door because that means we can rest assured that all the doors are closed and locked...all the faucets are turned off...all the chi irons are unplugged...etc.  So, when J was the first to get home that particular afternoon, and the back door in the garage (leading into the house) was slightly ajar, she knew something was up.  Someone or SOMETHING had opened that door. 

Of course, we reacted like sane people and resisted the urge to call Ghost Hunters and called the cops, instead.   They searched the house and found no one there and nothing missing.  Which made me regret not calling Ghost Hunters afterall.  Mofo. The police search DID, however, make me aware of how ridiculously filthy my house was.  J had panties on the floor (what else is new)... Lil J had so many toys strewn about her room that the floor was nowhere to be seen and dog hair was an inch thick on the house floors that were actually visible....and let us not forget what "toy" was accidentally left on the master bathroom counter. Because, evidently, no one thinks it's their job to wash the damn thing and put it away! Do not get me started.

Enough about that.  So, the road trip we took was to Colorado to visit Hubber's peeps....who were great and showed us a fabulous time.  On the way back, we hung out in Amarillo to see Cadillac Ranch and to visit Palo Duro Canyon...both were awesome, by the way.

When Spring Break was over, it was back to work as usual.   Which meant a bbq cook-off that took place over the course of 3 days and consisted of an attendance of over 5,000 people...half of whom were drunk off their asses one night....then the planning of upcoming golf tournaments, a motorcycle/auto rally and a new subscription service newsletter.  Yippee.  Shit just never seems to slow down around here. It is nice to be able to stop and smell the roses once in a while, though, and that's what our road trip was to me.  I wish I could take a permanent road trip.

Teenagers, toddlers and other things I don't really like to talk to...

I'm not sure I like this new video chatting thing the kids are using these days. When I barge into my teenager's room half dressed, dropping f-bombs and tossing her dirty panties at her face because she keeps leaving them on the bathroom floor after her shower....I'd prefer not to have any witnesses present.  Especially little perverted boys. And especially when it's cold and I'm wearing a wife-beater tank and no bra...and there's a hole in the ass of the boxers I have on.  It kinda defeats the purspose of my dramatic exit.  But, it mortifies my kid.  And that ain't a bad thing.  Maybe it'll make her think twice before giving me a reason to burst into her room during her chat session.

J: MOOOOM....I'm on skype!

Me: I don't give a shit...you need to quit leaving your stanky drawers on the floor!

*snickering is heard from the computer*

J: And, why didn't you KNOCK?  You have no clothes on!

Me:  *looking down that the complete wreck that are the rags hanging from my body*  This is MY house, I can wear whatever I want.  And, until you start paying rent to live here, I don't have to knock on shit!

This is basically how all my conversations with J go these days.  Her, wanting her privacy. Me, reminding her that she has no privacy and embarrassing the living shit out of her. 

Conversations with lil J aren't much better, though.  Here's what happened when I asked her how her day went yesterday:

Me: How was your day?

lil J: It was awesome.

Me: Really?  What made it so awesome?

lil J: I didn't even get in trouble...and I did't have to sit on the blue rug OR go to the office ALL day!

Me: ??

lil J: guess what?!

Me: what?

lil J: fuck.

Me: uhm...

lil J: is that a bad word?

Me: yes.

lil J: oh, ok.


This is my life, y'all.