Tag Archives: idiots

oh noz, it’s the sleets!

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It spit a little sleet for about a minute and a half and the whole town has shut down. Good Lord. I do not understand. It’s not supposed to get any worse, and when you let the schools out, all the parents rush to pick the kids up and create gridlock.

It’s just a little bit of sleet. It’s not even sticking. The city workers can de-ice the bridges and overpasses if we’re not all on the damn freeway.

I bet money the stores have been wiped clean of their milk and bread. Because, as you all know, we can’t have sleet or snow without an ample supply of milk and bread.

Especially since it’s only supposed to be 54 degrees tomorrow. We may be stuck inside Forever. *rolling eyes*

do you understand the words that are comin’ outta my mouf?

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When I say the words “Please, leave your brother alone. Don’t look at him, speak to him, flip him off, touch him, poke him, or kick him under the table. And please, no more silent “I’m gonna slit your throat” threats.”

Do y’all understand me? Or am I speaking a foreign language? An alien language?

Something must be wrong with me because apparently, my damn kids don’t understand anything I say.

Not. One. Damn. Thing.

Speaking of damn, I’m heading to the Big Dam Bridge to walk it off.

Hasta la vista.

ETA the video. Was running late this morning (due to aforementioned children of the corn) and didn’t have a chance to find…

i guess i should blog today

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I don’t really have anything in particular I feel like talking about, but there’s lots going on around here.

We started off the day with my dipshit darling eldest son taking an extra claritin. Yeah, okay, so the directions clearly state do NOT take more than 1 in a 24 hr period. So at 6:15 this morning, I was on the phone with a very nice Indian man giving him all sorts of information, only to have him tell me after 20 minutes that I should take dispshit Ian to the ER or the doctor. Sigh. I’m glad this wasn’t a “time sensitive” issue.

Well, I decided to call the doctor instead. I had a feeling that 1 extra pill wasn’t that big of a deal. And it’s not. Doc said he’ll probably be a little jittery and hyped up (oh, like that’s different from everyday?) and that he’d probably be a little thirsty. I sent him to school with an extra bottle of water and a pat on the back. I decided to let the teachers deal with him. (my apologies to all my teacher friends.)

That’s right folks, I’m totally kicking this Parent of the Year thing in the ass! I rock like Alice Cooper.

Fishdog will be here this afternoon. I’m glad. I’ve missed him this week. Sometimes I am fine with the week as a single parent and sometimes, not so much. This was a not so much week. And it’s not just I could’ve used his help with the Mom Taxi Service (which I totally could’ve used) it’s that I missed him. I hope we sell the house soon so we can stop this back and forth crap. We need our routine. So, everyone send vibes that we’ll sell soon. Like this week.

Rader has a soccer game tonight. I really enjoy watching him play, he’s got the potential to be a great player, if he’d just learn to run! We’ve been watching him closely and he runs on his heels. It’s almost like he’s trying to baby a foot injury. When he was little (around 6 months) his feet were turned all the way in. He had to wear those funky foot brace things with the bar for about 6 months. Anyway, I’ve decided to take him to the doc next week to see if there’s a potential problem, or if he just needs to be retrained to run on his toes. (or just trained to run period. boy is slower than a sleeping snail.)

Okay, there. I’ve blogged. Before I go, I should give one last shout out to Jenna, the sex kitten. Please, go donate to help save a ta-ta.

Last year’s RWA Conference. Jenna, Mel, Louisa.

13 year old logic–or lack thereof

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Me: Ian, you haven’t done your literature. It’s incomplete. It’s inaccurate.

Ian: (Shrug)

Me: Why?

Ian: (Shrug. Lip smack. Eye roll. ) Because it is.

Me: (steam flowing from my ears. Blood streaming from my nose due to the aneurysm) Explain why it just is. With words. Minus the visuals and sound effects. (I think I growled, and then I popped a ventricle from trying not to yell…)

Ian: I don’t like that teacher. That’s why it just is.

He doesn’t like his teacher? So in order to hurt his teacher, he doesn’t do his work?

Yeah. That’s some logic right there. I mean, that’s like uber-advanced-college-thesis-level logic. It’s so high level, I need a diagram to help me understand.

do not disturb

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at the library.

I have one and a half hours before my first PTO meeting.

Must. Write.

Will have 2 hours after PTO to write.

I’ll check in later. After I kill the guy two tables over listening to Usher on his MP3 player so loud that I can sing along…

grocery store conversations

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Manboy: I wants me some turkey.

Group: You said you was a vegetarian.

Manboy: I am. I don’t eat fried chicken.

On the way out to my car two fratboys get out of their SUV deep into their conversation.

Fratboy1: Dude. She did the inverted splits.

Fratboy2: No effin’ way. (he said effin’)

Fratboy1: Totally. Inverted. Splits. Man the things I did to her that night. And she was upside down!

Fratboy2: Like a circus freak. Dude, you’re the master.

blogging catch up…

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It’s the beginning of the month, and therefore my busiest time at the office. I tend to be fairly absent from the blogosphere during the first week of the month, and this week has been no exception. My apologies to everyone who has been waiting with bated breath for my next post.

Lucky for y’all, you won’t have to wait any longer…

Do you guys ever watch Maury Povich? I mean, sit down and really watch the show? I don’t either…usually. But that changed Monday afternoon. Maury was doing another ‘baby daddy’ show where the momma is convinced the her ex-husband-who’s-shackin’-up-with-that-skanky-ho is the baby daddy. And Maury sits next to momma and pats her knee and talks to her in his serious voice as the ex-husband and the skanky ho sit across from them yelling vulgarities…while Maury reads the paternity results. And wouldn’t you know it? The ex-husband-who’s-shackin’-up-with-that-skanky-ho is not the baby daddy.

Chaos and drama follows while the momma runs off stage and the skanky-ho yells more vulgarities and the ex-husband celebrates.

Same ol’, same ol’, right?

Not this week…because Maury and momma were testing man #17 to find out if he was in fact, the baby daddy.

Yes, the 17th man.

It just makes me hurt thinking about it. Maybe KY should seriously consider advertising during that show…or being a sponsor. Along with Johnson and Johnson. Or maybe even Trojans…of course, if condom makers started advertising on the show, Maury might soon be out of a job…

In other news, The Smart Bitches have magically brewed up another controversy over in their little slice of the blogosphere. Maybe that should be the Bitchosphere. It started with this benign bitchfest over the lack of wit this cover model displayed during an interview. (if you have time, watch the interview…it’s pretty entertaining) Now, I was inclined to ignore the dim factor of said cover model because A: my eye candy doesn’t have to be smart and B: who am I to throw stones, I’ll probably sound pretty stupid myself when I have my first interview.

Of course, I’ll never be dim enough to say something as ridiculous as:

If it comes from God we have to eat it

I mean, we all say stupid things every once in a while, right? (okay, maybe not that stupid, but I’m trying to cut Mr. Cover Model a break. I’m sure he knew what he meant…)

But then said eye candy (or someone posing as him) decided to post a scathing comment to the blog. What a fool. The bitches picked up that stick and ran around the room with it. Go on, read the letter. I’ll wait.

Let me say it again–what a fool. Seriously. What was he thinking? If the person who left that comment isn’t Mr. Cover Model, then he’s possibly done some serious damage to Mr. Cover Model’s rep. If the person who left that comment is Mr. Cover Model…then dim bulb doesn’t even begin to describe him…

That’s all for tonight. I’m off to open a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir and finish reading Red Lily. (Thank you, Nora Roberts for being able to write such vivid characters and making it so that I am compelled to read 3 books in 3 days. God I hope one day I can write like that…)

blogging catch up…

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It’s the beginning of the month, and therefore my busiest time at the office. I tend to be fairly absent from the blogosphere during the first week of the month, and this week has been no exception. My apologies to everyone who has been waiting with bated breath for my next post.

Lucky for y’all, you won’t have to wait any longer…

Do you guys ever watch Maury Povich? I mean, sit down and really watch the show? I don’t either…usually. But that changed Monday afternoon. Maury was doing another ‘baby daddy’ show where the momma is convinced the her ex-husband-who’s-shackin’-up-with-that-skanky-ho is the baby daddy. And Maury sits next to momma and pats her knee and talks to her in his serious voice as the ex-husband and the skanky ho sit across from them yelling vulgarities…while Maury reads the paternity results. And wouldn’t you know it? The ex-husband-who’s-shackin’-up-with-that-skanky-ho is not the baby daddy.

Chaos and drama follows while the momma runs off stage and the skanky-ho yells more vulgarities and the ex-husband celebrates.

Same ol’, same ol’, right?

Not this week…because Maury and momma were testing man #17 to find out if he was in fact, the baby daddy.

Yes, the 17th man.

It just makes me hurt thinking about it. Maybe KY should seriously consider advertising during that show…or being a sponsor. Along with Johnson and Johnson. Or maybe even Trojans…of course, if condom makers started advertising on the show, Maury might soon be out of a job…

In other news, The Smart Bitches have magically brewed up another controversy over in their little slice of the blogosphere. Maybe that should be the Bitchosphere. It started with this benign bitchfest over the lack of wit this cover model displayed during an interview. (if you have time, watch the interview…it’s pretty entertaining) Now, I was inclined to ignore the dim factor of said cover model because A: my eye candy doesn’t have to be smart and B: who am I to throw stones, I’ll probably sound pretty stupid myself when I have my first interview.

Of course, I’ll never be dim enough to say something as ridiculous as:

If it comes from God we have to eat it

I mean, we all say stupid things every once in a while, right? (okay, maybe not that stupid, but I’m trying to cut Mr. Cover Model a break. I’m sure he knew what he meant…)

But then said eye candy (or someone posing as him) decided to post a scathing comment to the blog. What a fool. The bitches picked up that stick and ran around the room with it. Go on, read the letter. I’ll wait.

Let me say it again–what a fool. Seriously. What was he thinking? If the person who left that comment isn’t Mr. Cover Model, then he’s possibly done some serious damage to Mr. Cover Model’s rep. If the person who left that comment is Mr. Cover Model…then dim bulb doesn’t even begin to describe him…

That’s all for tonight. I’m off to open a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir and finish reading Red Lily. (Thank you, Nora Roberts for being able to write such vivid characters and making it so that I am compelled to read 3 books in 3 days. God I hope one day I can write like that…)

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.