Tag: ranting

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Staycation – Retreat on a Budget

Admittedly the Southwest Airlines commercials speak to me. You know the slogan right? “Wanna get away?”

My rhetorical question in return is “Does the sun rise in the East?”

staycation, hotels, hotels.comAs a mother, adult, and former traveler extraordinaire, I love to get away. But who says you have to reach the far ends of the Earth, comb the beaches of the Caribbean or peruse the boutiques of Europe to consider being on a retreat or to enjoy a vacation. Let’s revisit the first word of this paragraph which will segue into my explanation for a retreat. Mother. Yes, I have child or children in my case, which can often cause a serious reduction in travel. Why? You ask. Well my main reason for a reduction in travel is due to the birth of my twins. You see traveling with two infants and the entourage of gear required for their care could be equivalent to a domestic safari of sorts. However, now that they have evolved into walking, talking, and may I add talking again, little people travel has become less cumbersome. Nonetheless difficult though when you are now the minority and children are the majority.

Additionally, taking trips sans kids can also be difficult. Finding adequate care takers and or family willing to assume your children for a day, week, or even a few hours can be a rather disheartening to the couple wishing to have adult relations outside of the home where they can once again enjoy the company of their date. I know the hubs and I daydream of what life was like without children when we traveled and literally those memories are now daydreams for us.

But we are not letting the days of whine and runny noses get us down! In fact, my mother was so kind to gift us for Christmas gift cards for a weekend or night away from home. When we opened the gift and read the note, the feeling was much like letting the crazies out of the asylum to run the streets for the night. We could taste sweet freedom once again. In fact we got so caught up in getting away we couldn’t decide where the hell to go!

Have no fear though, the hubs is a resourceful geek of sorts. Bless him for having a Hotels.com account where he has been booking almost all of his travels for business, since he travels every other week he has become a domestic expert of travel accommodations. When the time came for us to book our retreat away from the kids, we looked at all the local resorts and spas within the Phoenix metro and downtown area. Finally we found a resort, spa, and casino close to home and even better, the price was right! So the hubs booked us a night at the Radisson Ft. McDowell Resort and Casino.

I was leery to say the least since the resort’s casino was known for being less than favorable. However, after reviewing the beauty shots of the resort on Hotels.com I was put more at ease and looking forward to our night and almost half day away from the kids to reconnect. I was put at even more ease when I saw the total cost of our sans kids retreat. $89 a night! With a sleep number bed, hot meal where I wasn’t required to cut anyone’s food but my own, no fighting kids for my own bed and pillows, and no worries of who would drive home due to the fact we both had some juicy alcoholic beverages. We just walked from the resort’s restaurant to the elevator and then to our room, a most pleasant evening, to which we retreated to enjoy additional quiet time as adults, reconnecting. Furthermore, we got up early enough the next morning to drive home but detoured for some breakfast at a local cafe.

Needless to say I was stoked we were able to get away and even better, Hotels.com helped us to stay on and within our budget, but were able to stay in a five star resort all  the more. Have you ever thought about a stay-cation when you cannot always get away for an extended vacation? Do you have the same struggles of child care when wanting to go on a date night?

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Nintendo America Superb Customer Service

Customer service is vital for the success and or failure of any organization. Not to mention that customer service is a huge selling and marketing point to consumers. I am one to rant and rave about terrible customer service by companies and their employees. My recent trip to my local Mesa Starbucks resulted in me never visiting that location again due to an assistant manager (sad that managers have this poor customer service) by the name of Sean who treated me like I was a third rate citizen and argued with me despite my simple request. Sigh, I digress because my focus is about fantastic, exceptional, no questions asked customer service where an organization values their customers.

This Christmas Big G was given Guitar Hero Heroes of Rock for Christmas in addition to Sonic and The Dark Knight and other miscellaneous games on behalf of family to play on the Wii. Our family LOVES, let me stress, LOVES our Wii. We workout to the Wii Fit and love the sports games and Mario Cart to name a few favorites, and we enjoy a family game afternoon where we all get involved. So when Grant got these cool games to enjoy all for himself (and mom and dad when he’s not looking) we immediately wanted him to play the games and get his initial fix. However, the poor guy did not get to enjoy his game at all. When we loaded the discs into the Wii we received an error.

We thought nothing of the error at first because the boy had lost his privileges to the game console for a bit. Maybe the unit just needed a good cleaning and maybe had an excess of dust or just needed to be rebooted. After these trials had failed we resorted to our owner’s manual and then to the web. These fixes did not bring our poor Wii back to life.

Finally the hubs called Nintendo America to find a service center or more information to find out where we could get our Wii repaired. The service specialist on the other end of the line told us that we would be better off just sending our Wii straight back to Nintendo to have it repaired. Furthermore Nintendo added that the shipping to them and back to us was included along with the full refurbishing and repair of our Wii. They would tear apart, clean, rebuild and make sure the entire guts of our Wii are in proper working order for us to begin enjoying our Wii again.

More so, we sent our Wii in and within two weeks we receive our Wii delivered UPS to our doorstep. Nintendo America told us that the repair would be six weeks so the delivery was a great surprise to us. Now here is the best part…the cost. The cost was totally minimal, $92 for us to have our Wii cleaned, repaired and the guts all in working order and all the shipping costs. Needless to say I had to brag about how awesome and wonderful Nintendo was to us and our Wii.

Thank you Nintendo.

For anyone who has trouble with the Nintendo gaming consoles or their personal gaming unit be sure to contact Nintendo before you waste your time and money with the traditional repair centers.

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My Life is NOT My Blog

Lately I admit I have had no desire to write, blog, share. PERIOD. When the sudden change of life events happened I haven’t even had a chance to digest my options, weigh pros and cons, the event horizon landed and now I am left to deal with my spinning.

I talked with my sister the other day (GASP, I know…we may fight but she’s still my sister) and we both agreed on one thing (GASP…I know, we agreed) which is we could shut our blogs down and say “Who gives a fuck.” Because really that is who I am.  I came to the conclusion that my writing has been driven based on what my audience wants to read, what would be “PG blog material” for PR or whomever. Why do I give a shit about that? I DON’T!

My life is NOT DEFINED by my blog, my blog defines my life.

My writings talk about my feelings, my life, how my life is like everyone else. Struggling to sometimes get through the day feeling unappreciated, alone, at times feeling unloved with the effort and hard work we put into our homes, working an ever thankless job that is glorified to be some great fucking experience. Not everyday is a picnic.

Granted, motherhood has MOMENTS that are to be cherished. When Grant told me when I was 6 months pregnant with the twins and as huge as a house and we went to a wedding, he told me how I looked like a princess. I melted. When the twins told me for the first time “Lub yoo,” I got teary eyed. But other moments and days are robotic, insane, going through the motions of day-to-day. Seriously, we can take a licking and keep on ticking.

I also began to ponder how asinine the parent-child relationship is defined. I mean, our children can hit us with no repercussion but if we spank them, child services is banging on our door calling us “abusers.” Do you see the insanity? I am not suggesting we go wail on our children, but come on, the suggestion just screams what the shit.  I digress. Back to my rant.

Someday’s I find I would rather not blog. Being a mother of twins is challenging. To say the least. Sharing how dealing with two toddlers wears away at every inch of you brings on nay-sayers about “Well I have two toddlers…and they aren’t twins….I can do it.” Good for fucking you. When you deliver two at the same time either through your vagina or an intricately cut incision into your perfectly uncut skin, then let’s talk. It’s not a damn competition…

And that’s where I find myself lacking motivation. The constant judgment of you are only as good a mother as you share on your blog. You are only as good as your blog. I can’t access your blog, blah blah fuckity blah. Let me say this again:

MY. LIFE. IS. NOT. DEFINED. BY. MY. BLOG. MY. LIFE. IS. DEFINED. ON. MY. BLOG.

Which leads me to the fact that if you don’t like that I drop the “f” bomb, don’t read it. I try to limit my use, but why? It’s my blog, these are the feelings and thoughts in my head and really, I use the work fuck as a proposition, noun, verb, adjective, hell, even as a conjunction in my sentences when I talk at home. *GASP and yes….in front of my children. I would rather they hear the word from me than from Billy down the street, then I only have myself to blame for my child telling sixth graders they are “fuckers” and throwing rocks at them in a taunting fashion.

So I beg the question, why worry so much about what other people think? About the language used? Because Barbara Bible-thumping Bozo doesn’t like it? Well go pray for me Barbara. Because some Linda says I won’t get opportunity. Cry me a FUCKING river Linda and write some letter in your basement, since opportunity does not motivate me to write. Or my audience does not appreciate what I am writing about….the fact that my kids do not shit rainbows and sunshine, singing like harmonic angels, and I with my perfect hair…I am just missing some pearls to top off the air of perfection right?

Get the hell outta here. I find that my audience is not who they used to be anymore if in fact my audience even exists. Well, Ellen I know you are reading this, so big hugs to you woman. I am finding I am sick of being like everyone else and their damned canned sunshine, or no, sorry, bottle of sunshine with Xanax or whatever fucking concoction your doctor prescribed with this medicated mommies bullshit. Really? You are proud to be hyped up as a way to deal? Shit…then by all means blog. I have no bottle of hype, I have no medication. However, I have great stories, I have great experiences, I have lots to share that have not been touched on because God, Allah, Buddha, Higher Power, forbid I offend, scare, or not play by the rules. Heaven forbid I admit that some days my life feels like a pile of shit and the people who are my friends abuse my kindness. That some days I want to blog about how my husband could do me the fucking favor of putting the butter knife used to make his sandwich in the dishwasher that is three feet away, rather than leaving it on the counter for HOURS. Other days I want to scream about how my twins are Tasmanian devils when they float from room to room making messes and I wish they would just sit and play with me because I won’t be able to do that later in life with them. Why I do care about these blogging rules and playing by them. I never played by them in real life. So why should I play by the rules now?

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Take What You Need and Walk Away

In the dark side of light I was philosophical. I was, truly gnawing, chewing, digesting, spitting up and in my own smitten, selfish way, smiling at the awful incident. One that I thought might have pushed me to my outer edges of passionate, top end emotions.

Jogging in the cold, whipping air, in the twinkles of the cosmos I saw her, the flash, the defeat, the mourning. What was so special about her to cause me to feel the pain, to cry and half throw a fit over the casualty? The damage was done, I made attempts to repair, The Chad came in and made attempts to repair, we walked away, we let the situation simmer.

I was struck, like lightning with my epiphany about how the damage happened, about accepting that I could not mend what I could truly explain as wrecked. Destroyed. Obliterated. I did what any other person would do after digesting such an event.

Call Dell.

My poor hard drive crashed and I realized I felt so much pain for this. I was upset, emotionally tearful for my computer. WHY? I was asking myself and fighting with the situation, “Why are you crying? It’s a machine!” But the machine held a LOT of others secrets, information, it held parts of me, lots of good parts of me. I had come to think I had a “relation” of sorts with my computer. You see she saw me through last year…from beginning to end, so when she crashed I felt myself crash with her.

But I saw this brilliance. On my jog. I saw why I was mourning my hard drive. Crazy as the thought may sound. I was mourning a relationship that was damaged beyond all repair. I could not fix it, there was no reason, shit. just. happened! My brilliance was that hard drives are so much like people, relationships, relations. They crash, for no reason, totally unexpected, and the only thing you can do is make an honest attempt to repair. I F2’ed, I F12’ed, I F8’ed until I finally said F it and accepted the crash.

What helped me to accept the crash was The Chad. Telling me, “these things happen, hard drives crash, they are man made, they spin around and they just break.” That is what hit me on my jog. My dark side of light, to see that people we have in our lives spin around and around, they have a purpose, they offer us something, we reciprocate, and sometimes they crash because they have spun themselves out in an unhealthy way.

The crash is the hardest. I realized that I have had crashes, we all have crashes. But coming to the realization. that continuing to work on something that spun itself into a cosmic oblivion of nothingness, is toxic and is the first step to acceptance, to moving on. I found so much relief to know that what I needed from my hard drive could be salvaged via an external box. I will leave the technical mumbo out. By understanding that certain snips and scraps if not everything but the OLD operating system could be saved, I realized that in myself. I was salvaging from these crashes everything but the old operating system, I was evolving. I was letting go.

My hard drives have crashed with other people, I made every attempt to repair (including myself) and saw that I was not in repair but that those who I thought needed the mend were crashed. They are gone, they brought nothing else to a life, my life, anyone’s life. They are broken, NO ONE, not even their own repair system could fix them. I came to see that sometimes we have to accept things, people, relationships, crash and are broken, but if we can try to revive after the crash walking away with what really matters, taking the vital shards of what was scathed that we can move on. We can learn, we can eliminate the garbage, that what might have spun us into oblivion. Walking away taking pride, love, self respect, courage, honesty, justice, patience, forgiveness, to name a few and above else walking away with wisdom showed me that the damage really was not all that devastating. I walked away with A LOT!

Mourning was quick. I found that the drawn out mourning of a relationship was more of guilt. The Monday morning quarterback as I like to call it, “shoulda, coulda, woulda’,” or the face you feel some neglect, that you could have done more and I didn’t do that. I laughed. I laughed and smiled and felt such a relief that so much was gone that really was petty. I was starting new in a sense, only that much smarter, that much wiser, and that much lighter by not having that spinning hard drive, the constant spinning of toxic people in my life. So we have to look at when a crash happens, do we want to salvage the WHOLE drive or do we want to salvage just the parts that matter? Our own parts, our own operations, or do we want the supporting systems that really are the most vital?

After you repair do you ignore the crash or do you take away what you need, still remembering the fragility of man and that sometimes things, people, relationships crash. All we can do is call in our support, accept, move on and grow; grow up and away from that which was damaging. A new year, a new hard drive, new lessons.

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The Joy of Family

I have been blessed with a very mellow dramatic, albeit over exaggerating, PPM (poor pity me), GOOD GAWD WTF type of family. I did not choose them. In fact, I chose my family in the eighth grade, Angela Lansbury I believe was my grandmother of depiction. I would need to search out that childhood project for excellent blog fodder. Regardless, my family is highly entertaining.

The theatrics is so thick one would have to wear a parka, rain boots, goggles and maybe a helmet to avoid the depth of shit that oozes from my family. Truly a made for TV, Lifetime mini drama.

Ttoday when I finally have begun my recuperating from the holiday I receive this email…which really doesn’t set off any emotion, just highly irritating to have my precious web invaded by such a load of horse shit:

It is my humble opinion, that once a human being with even the average level in intelligence upon viewing this, does not realize how petty their resentments, attitudes, greed,pride, avarice,greivances or grudges,self importance,anger,hatred,the denying of relationships of loved ones from loved ones out of some misguided ideation of superior morality or emotional maturity, does not realize how truly unimportant , in the grand scheme of God’s directives and teachings are in comparison has no soul and has not nor will not have a life worth living.

Now that “humble opinion” is that of my overly arrogant, clueless, alcoholic, overly medicated, sperm donating, excuse for a father. Sad really. I laughed and shook my head. The email was about the cosmos and relation to size, not sweating the small stuff, yadda, yadda, yadda. Whatevs. I generally read, say to myself “Cool” take the message and move on. But that first bit of hogwash had me saying “Oh please let the level of chaos and mellow drama stop….PUH LEASE!”

My “father” if you can refer to him as such, I generally call him by his first name so for the sake of privacy I will call him PITA; PITA seems to think I harbor some sort of anger, hate, grudge, whatever the eff the man believes based on his delusions of grandeur brought on by almost 40 years of substance abuse. Seriously, he thinks I must have LOADS of energy and feeling to be wasted on pointless, energy consuming, time wasting feelings of hate, anger, and grudge. Really, those feelings would require me to have a feeling or a care or want. Of which I am void.

Why?

Because why waste and let the little things like my PITA’s transference get in the way of my life, why let him get to me because he carries these feelings himself about the pure fact he was an empty excuse for a parent.

He was a worthless excuse for a spouse….to all of his wives. Oh wait…ah yes, I forgot…it’s a conspiracy, they (the former wives…including my mother) were all out to get him. To dump on him…the alcoholic, the drug addict, the PPM syndrome. I see this a lot in my family by more than just PITA, as if everyone else looks to dump on them. OY!

I guess what I am just up in arms at myself about was the fact that I even submitted any energy to the PITA on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. WHAT.A. JOKE. I made the mistake of showing gratitude, an attitude I carry with everything in life. Yes, I am quite thankful for bad happenings too…they do have a reason. Nothing in life happens by coincidence. So yes, I was thankful for the gifts The Chad and I received from PITA and the gifts received by my children, of which 2/3rds of the gifts will probably never be used because PITA has never taken the time to get to know ME as a daughter, let alone my children. Nope. PITA told me in a text (which I love writing for this fact…the statement cannot be claimed as conjecture. Seriously people if you don’t want people to second guess you, never put your crap in writing.) Oh yes, the text:

Just so the kids know that they have a Grandpa “PITA” that love’s them & they remember if only vaguely.

Here is my deal….this almost infuriated me…more or less was annoying at the sheer ignorance, and the fact the moron took so much time to type something that clearly states his own narcissism. My kids have no idea about their Grandpa PITA. Why? He’s toxic, so I do not allow him in my life. If I do, I am ALWAYS burned, so after 31 years I finally put my foot down. Seriously, when I get an over dramatic call that I, yes ME, am to bail HIM out of jail. Uh, negative ghost rider the pattern is full….full of your shit…and you are NOT my responsibility. The call was over excited, like a teen who was just busted and wanted Mom and Dad to bail them out of the shit hole they dug themselves into. No thanks. A reason why I DO NOT associate with him. But of course I get the attitude of disdain and “I can’t believe you are doing this to me” when I say…NO and I have children, you are not one of them.

I think I heard a hallelujah.

Anyway, PITA seems more interested that my children know of HIS existence than he does of theirs; and he wonder’s why I have nothing to do with him. Oh, maybe because you did the same thing to me as a child resulting in adult issues that I had to seek therapy and healing for. ALRIGHTY THEN! So I am glad to say I love the power of IGNORE, BLOCK, JUNK MAIL, Remove Sender and all the electronic powers that be, so that I never have to see another annoying email, text, or even paper letter again. Thank you USPS for the “Return to Sender” option within the postal service.

All I can do is pray that one day, if that SHOULD ever happen (highly doubtful), he will see the importance in knowing OTHER people and not that they always know YOU! Especially when they are family. Do you have any family members like that? They thrive on self-loathing, pity, and transference? The misery loves company syndrome as well? How do you deal with toxic family?

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The Problem with Politics, Religion, and Vacuum Cleaners

Sounds odd right? The politics, religion, and vacuum cleaners combination. Really though have you met anyone that refuses to back down on their personal opinion of their political stance, their staunch religious beliefs, and the fact they have the best damned vacuum cleaner ever?

I thought so.

No, each of these believes that their way is the best. The sect of religion is THE sacred path to redemption, their party is the GOP (Grand O’l Party) and again THE party. Or maybe that the Dyson they own is truly THE BEST sucker out there. Moving on.

A few weeks back I attended a workshop for stampers, they are quite literally more fanatical about stamps than scrapbook creators are about widgets and paper. The workshop was rather enjoyable especially since my Grant baby was enthralled in the Holly and Hal Moose video from Build-A-Bear and he has his own crafty projects to make.

Time passed and the small group of women tediously worked on their projects, perfecting and adding the minute details of their cookie cutter, quite literally Xerox copies of each others project, cards. Niceties were exchanged, gabbing commenced, and then the ultimate blow of offenses.

“You know it is not a ‘Holiday Tree’ this is America, it is called a ‘Christmas Tree’ so let’s just call it that and move on and quit trying to be friends with these crazy Muslims and what not…”

Now I am not, by any means, an easily offended person. But that comment, spewed from the mouth of an older, white, staunch conservative, no more than a high school education, WOMAN, pissed me the hell off. Why? Why was I so clearly irked by her lack of cultural sensitivity, her blissful ignorance, her sheer disregard for her new audience? Hmm, one could wonder why right?

Not I. I had no care to wonder, because this woman who was hosting me in her home had no idea whether my messiah was derived from the over translated New Testament, the Book of Moses, or if my messiah might possibly be Muhammad himself, or better yet a higher language of thought and enlightenment through Buddhism or hell maybe I was Satan reincarnate through Hinduism in the form of a hot blond. Do you see my level here? No? Here is the deal.

You can be Catholic, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Mormon, an Atheist, a Pagan, a Hindu, or Buddhist, but do NOT assume that because we live in what I feel is a large melting pot of cultural  beliefs and racial assimilates that I too am as ignorant and a staunch conservative, WHITE, pseudo-Republican, and Christ belief bearing as you. I truly do not mind that so many people have so many beliefs, I rather find the various beliefs of great interest to me, I question everything because I wish to learn more, not find the one divine path to redemption. I find redemption within my own self, not from some righteous ass who tells me I need to find redemption by giving to their authority in the form of cash and guilty Sabbath visits or confessionals.

I will admit, I am Caucasian, I am a registered card bearing member of the Republican Party, I am also a gun owner, a baptized Baptist whom has been non-practicing for over 20 years, I am Pro Choice (GASP!), and I like many other morons voted for Bush…TWICE, but I also voted for Barrack Obama. I believe in Mother Earth, a higher power of sorts, reincarnation, an afterlife, I believe in free will, choices, the ultimate separation of Church and State because I believe homosexuals should be granted the same unhappiness of marriage like us heterosexual folks. Seriously, why should we be damned granted blissful marriage and divorce only? Makes sense right?

But I do not go about assuming that each and every person I come into contact with is of the same beliefs. I do not push my beliefs like a hustler. I embrace the diversity. I embrace my often mis-informed Republican kin, my zealous Democratic kin (who quite possibly are lost in translation….much like my Republican brethren), I embrace the word of the Torah, the Quran, canon (most likely Tibetan by all intents and purposes), the Book of Mormon, I embrace these as the words of good living, a form of ethics and a higher ascension, not for redemption and “I’m better than you because I believe in Christ” or “You’re going to hell”  (because I don’t believe the way you do). I also do not swallow all these words, but they are chew worthy and food for thought.

Really we spend so much time convincing others of our beliefs that one has to wonder their own religion if they are too busy selling the water. So I will drink the tap and thank you kindly for the hospitality, appreciate your strong beliefs and go on with my merry sinful living to your devout singular beliefs. Because I surely did not just tell you that you HAD to vote for Barrack Obama because we needed change in this country, I did not tell you that you must pray five times a day, barefoot, facing East in order to find divinity in your life, and I surely did not just force my Kenmore Progressive Upright in your face because it IS the best vacuum….Consumer Reports even called it a best buy! Embrace diversity and show a bit of consideration to your audience.

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Did We Need to Go There

My blog has never been one for controversy. I leave controversy to many face-to-face communications. Body language can be read and understood, as can eye movement, facial expressions, tone. Tone is often hard to communicate in writing. One must be a skilled author to have the finesse to emit tone in the conversation. So controversy as I said is left to the true verbal arena so as not to encounter miscommunications or to misunderstand.

So my tone is about to go to a beaten path NEVER taken before. EVER. I will probably lose blog followers and I am deeply sorry. I will not yield nor apologize for my personal life, my personal decisions, something that completely affects me, with the exception of my husband as he was a very intricate part of my life in this decision.

Once upon a Thanksgiving in 2009 a young woman who spent two days prepping, cleaning, cooking and baking, not to mention caring for her three children. Might I add, two of which are twins in case you are just tuning into the Fish Film @ 11, and I work a full-time job, a real. full time job. Not just the job of mom, you see that is my first job, my real job is my third job, my second job is wife, and my fourth job is business owner. So you see I truly have FOUR FULL time jobs….ah hell five if you add all the housework. So back to it, I was cleaning up after a much enjoyed pie hole stuffing event. Family was gathered on my couch, every seat taken,  reading Black Friday ads, friends were conversing, laughs shared abound. As the crowd began to simmer and disperse I thought I need to call my dear friend who so lovingly called to share in her thanks and love on this day. But in addition to the love to be shared was the hate that this ugly world can bring. Not hate by my friend, the hate of strangers, the hate of those who put up a loving facade to avoid confrontation, the hate spewed behind anonymity to win out in some delusional war of words.

Please be advised that the images you are about to see are repulsive, obscene, disgusting, and horrid. All directed AT ME. I debated on posting these images and by rehashing information I so prayed to disappear, but the glutton in me took pictures of the proof of hate generated by people.

For privacy reasons the images were removed and can only be viewed by invitation only.

As I said. I apologize for any and ALL of you to read this ugliness. I was so physically ill on Thursday I could barely sleep. I was shaking, I was borderline inconsolable. My husband, bless his heart, reassured me to ignore this. It would go away. It did not. The pain did not go away. These people have NOT. GONE. AWAY! The Twitter account STILL EXISTS!!! I thought the account had been deleted, however, I was wrong and hatred breeds and multiplies and yet another account can be created in anonymity so as to further the cause of hatred.

Now here is my beef. I have no problem with someone gossiping at or about me. Whatever, sticks and stones okay. But a FULL ON CHARACTER ASSASSINATION will make this Lionesses blood boil! My sweet little guppy fish exterior will molt into the full on lion bitch I am! What else….NO ONE. I do stress NO ONE has any of this information in the blogging community…oh wait. With the single exception of my sister.

YES. You know her. Brittany Greer. Brittany Hudson Greer over @ The Greer 5.

My flesh and blood. I had attempted to try to keep this between the family. A family feud that she clearly took too far in divulging my personal information to sheer strangers for their personal use to attack me. To belittle, to judge, to bring me shame, to destroy my character, to inflict pain, I can go on and on. Clearly a reprimandable offense correct? One might think considering that a third party went so far as to assassinate my good character, to attempt to destroy my friendships, my networkings, or maybe because the cretin who created this account thought it may be funny to bring pain to someone such as me. If you believe in this…..keep on being a subscriber to your community that is “generously” run and operated by Mom Dot. Because my information seems to have been so “generously” shared and detailed…although I will state that the details in these tweets are clearly misinformed, out of time line, and clearly NONE OF ANYONE’S FUCKING BUSINESS. I also encourage you to continue to be a member of a community that does love to breed controversy as my personal life so clearly became a hot topic in a forum for enjoyment. Or hell maybe just in an email but regardless, the two involved ARE members, very active members of that community. Which further suggests that the negative behavior of public humiliation, belittling and degradation is A FUCKING OKAY with these people. I would love to publicly humiliate…man…I would be such a big girl to do that.

To post pictures of random strangers and discuss their situations may they be unfortunate with other random strangers and call it “fun” or “comedic” hell albeit fucking hysterical right…just a joke.

FUCK YOU and you know who you are. Are those tweets a fucking joke to any of you? If so….I dare you to leave me your FULL NAME to leave up for public humiliation. I also dare…..no….I challenge the lowly individual who so PROUDLY created this account with the original intentions of bashing MY friend Kristin, whether you like her or not, who then decided to turn the object of their desire to me…I CHALLENGE you to come to my blog and apologize to me. Furthermore I CHALLENGE the cretin and or CRETINS who acted in such a distasteful, vulgar, unbecoming, and plebian manner to PUBLICLY APOLOGIZE to myself and Kristin on Twitter and on a blog post that shall stay posted for AN ENTIRE WEEK. To allow those who read it to show their disdain to you. To show you how much of an uncouthful coward you were and are for hiding behind anonymity, your keyboard, and indecency. I also challenge Miss “I am the Community and this is my blog” so shoot me an email…we’ll discuss the details like adults.

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My Conversation

The virtual diary. The Weblog of old and blog of new. A typepad diary to release inner demons, woe on politics, spew nonsense on the grandest scales, possibly invent a new comedy facet even Shakespeare could revel.

Diaries are not always meant to be read while others are published; some are for shock value, some are for reciprocal relations (not feeling alone in the world), and some are just written diarrhea that communicate nothing but allow us something else to stare aimlessly into a monitor.

While I am not “expert,” self-proclaimed “guru,” or self-proclaimed “top blogger” I do claim to be full of shit. Honestly. I have a lot of minutiae in my life that has molded me into the productive human being I am today. For example, I have been laboring in the employment arena for over 15 years. I am also an adult-child of an alcoholic. You want to know about alcoholism and how the “disease” (for lack of a better word) can destroy a family ask me so, I can tell you first hand. I can also share with you the art of being proactive, rather than reactive. Although sometimes reactions can be fun if you really want to spice up your dull suburban life. Other experiences include the loss of lives, lives I took part in creating but clearly an upperhand had other plans beyond my control. Experience life on drugs, the detox, share how even a prescription drug to keep you from feeling nuts can send you into a downward life spiral of dementia, then rising again anew.

Sometimes my blog makes sense. Sometimes my blog is a surprise of epic proportions where I can show the Skittle rainbow and then taketh away by showing you the dark depths of an inner child scorned by hurt and deception, smoke and mirrors. Sometimes I engage you in a comedic touch and others I attempt to engage you in a conversation and they aren’t always superficial or “socially acceptable.”  I also am in no way attempting to win any award, although I have some friends that I cherish who think I invented sliced bread and award me so, for them, I am full of heart, eternally grateful. (aka Ally,

Which brings me to a blog post I read today from a bloggy friend of mine who feels she is not of influence. What is influence really? Influence as I understand the meaning is that an action will have an effect. Sounds scientific…possibly not. I look at influence and the laws of cause and effect from a Buddhist standpoint.  For every cause there is an effect. Example: A lonely cow is in her field, she sees a herd pass, she joins the herd. The cause a herd passes your path, the effect, you become part of the cattle. (see where I am heading)

For example, the effect of turtling (hanging in one spot and one spot alone) where the flow of any traffic is impeded, the effect is that traffic will begin to gather around. That is not a gravitational pull, but your wide ass obstaining from moving, thus preventing in some cases bloggy constipation. However, if you act as a honey bee, visiting flower here and flower there, the results may not be immediate, but the effect is cross pollination, pollination period, the want of the flowers, for you the honey bee, to return each and every time. I felt my bloggy friend is very much the honey bee, while others are turtling excrements merely taking up space.She is the steady and constant bee on her pollination route, and one season soon, she will reap the rewards of all she has sown.

Blogs, emails, posts, Tweets, texts, and phone calls can all be a conversation. Short and sweet. Long and meaningful, or merely scripted fum is chum or is it Chum is Fum for the masses to gobble. (Yes that is a SpongeBob reference…..) Either way, the influence is the effect that is caused by what was said, how did you resonate in that individual (the cause), good or bad, he or she is clearly reaching for conversation, whether you choose to listen or answer proactively is up to you, because I see that both listening and proactive responses are participation in a conversation. You cannot converse if someone is not listening, and even when you think you are alone in your conversation, someone, just someone may be listening. Hold steady, hold true, and do not lose your love and feeling for your conversation. The cause of conversation is in effect influence.

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Smart Mouth Kids

I am amazed every day at what my kids will say. Especially now Big G who has done a few years of early learning before actually doing the whole kindergarten experience. Today, literally like 10 minutes ago DH challenged G to count to 20. Then he looked at me like…..WHAT DID I DO?!

Big G counted to 20, then 30, 40, all the way to one hundred and back. Needless to say the boy MAY get bored this year in kindergarten but we shall see.

Yesterday was like any other day. First day of school. The kid was wrecked as usual. His face was drained of any energy an life. I was left to pick up a five year old zombie in need of a fix of sorts. TV. The Wii. Brains. He got home explained to me his day and bolted to the Wii. Though I understood his fixation since he has been grounded since lat week. One of my many bargaining tools is the threatened loss and sale of that stupid contraption….although I use it for my Yoga.

After the Wii time he got a small snack before dinner. He ate and then proceeded to be a little pig. I try to give him credit, I mean he is five, a boy, and his father’s son. Cleanliness is not a priority and neither is tidiness. However, when I spent MANY grueling hours scrubing my floors on my hands and knees (yes…I did…the whole OCD thing right) the hairs on the back of my neck began to raise as I sat at the kitchen table and heard the small tinkling of crumbs to my recently prisitne conditioned floors.

I look over my shoulder as I see my boy walking away, making a trail of mess as he goes. I told him to be more careful with what he was doing since he was dropping crumbs and making a mess (miniscule in comparison to other messes…..like the Squids) and here is his LOVELY response.

Well just go get the vacuum then Mom and suck up all the crumbs. Jeez!

Gods and naturistic forces kept me from grabbing his neck like a wet rag needing a good wring. DH looked at me with wide eyes….and I snapped back at him that any time he felt like getting off his too good ass to help in the Maid department that I have so rightly assumed over the years, he was more than welcome to let me have a single day off. Mum was the word from him.

I will give Big G about another year before I force that vacuum upon him and we’ll see who was so smart, he will be so grateful to appreciate my cleaning and vacuuming skills then!

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Parents Eat Free Night

Can you believe a night like that at a restaurant exists? I know I had not a CLUE that parents can eat free until DH made the lovely suggestion to go out to eat dinner last night.

WRONG!!! SO. EFFING. WRONG.

Thanks for playing babe, next time, listen to the wife when she says “Beware.”

Let me explain. You see the shiny white round ball at night? We call that the moon. Once a month, usually about the same damn time Flo drops by, the white ball of fury is FULL. Which means that my sweet little squidy gnomes, turn into fire breathing, grimoire casting, horn bearing DEMONS.

Now Seth-en-stein, not so much. The Little Bitty…..O.M.G!!

Seriously the girl is on a rampage. No stopping her. A drawer in my kitchen was open every other second. Garlic press here, spoon there, spatula yonder…….you name it, she pulled it out. EVERY. EFFING. FIVE. SECONDS. Seriously, I contemplated putting a collar around her and a stake in the floor where the rope only had about two feet of play so she couldn’t get into anything. Tupperware, stainless steel bowls clanging.

And then. When I thought her possession had passed and I did not have to contemplate my conversion to Catholicism to invest in a priest to perform an exorcism she did it. She pushed me.

Not physically, I mean she weighs a whopping 22 pounds sopping wet. She climbed up onto the dining table. Unloaded everything on it. Began to head for THE laptop, MY laptop, to hurl it like a discus in a track an field competition. So I told her NO one last time. And she screamed like bloody hell and I lost it. I walked away. I hid in a place where I could call her all the foul names I have called people that make sailors blush. And then I was fine. Until the hubs began debating the dinner debacle.

I hate dinner. Unless I have prepared a menu that week I hate trying to throw together dinner especially when I have been busy working all day. (Cleaning, blogging, gossiping with my mother…ya know…working!) No really, I have been fighting with a customer, I lost $2400 because he was scared of the FBI form….long story on that, and then the demon spawn of hell awoke from her monthly slumber. So we decided on a “kids eat free” deal! WOOT.

Not so much. Basically the dinner Gods said, “Hey Herrings, thanks for playing!”

So we venture to Coco’s, which by the way has some fantastic desserts. And the whole thing is a joke from the get go. The 20 something doesn’t know her asshole from a whole in the wall hostess puts us in a CORNER booth with twins. Um….yo…..where do we put not one, yes count them, TWO high chairs. Alrighty, a new adventure….BOOSTER SEATS!! Negative. Seth-en-stein was great, he was easy peasy pumpkin pie as Big G would say. Not the Little Bitty, oh no. Let’s throw our Crocs across the table, eat crayons, and then SCREAM bloody hell again like someone was yanking her nails from the nail beds with a pair of pliers.

DH patiently pulls her from her stance, takes her outside. I order for the kids seeing as she is probably hungry, hence the extra dose of demonic presence, and I wanted there food there first so they weren’t so cranky and then DH and I could order. They come back…..we go for round two. Negative. Even more ornery, tears, blood boiling screams, kicking. LOTS. OF. KICKING. He takes her back outside just as the food arrives. The boys eat. DH is waiting for me in the car….thinking I am gonna just bail. Um no, feed kids, then bail. He comes back, we try round three and she shows sign of interest in the tempting and toasty chicken nuggets only to begin her dive onto said table where we say EFF IT! DONE!!

As she blood boiling screams, I try to gather all the gear since traveling with a singleton and multiples is seriously a day trip safari the shit we pack. I fumble. He’s impatient, barking begins, and my growls come back. I wanted to tell the Mo Fo…um had you listened at home when I told you going out to dinner was NOT a wise plan, we wouldn’t be snapping at one another. So I take the boys to the car….yeah….car is not unlocked. So I stomp towards the front door and tell DH of his brilliant plan to send me to said car when I DON’T HAVE KEYS! I get the boys and the demon in the car….he pays…..the waiter trys to comp….not sure why. My kid is the asshole. Not like you had turrets for that moment and was freaking like she was. So we leave a hefty tip…..as a bribe that we promise never to return.

On the ride home….incessant screams, cries, no comfort in sight. Not even the blankie. I sit in total silence wanting to be a childish brat and rant this to DH:

“Nah Nah asshat! See I told you!! Not a good idea to go to dinner. Getting out of the house was not good. I told you she was a demon today, she is out of hand, you think I am menstrual….nice…nice excuse. See I WAS RIGHT!!!”

But I sat there. Completely, totally, utterly, emotionally toasted from keeping my cool, holding in my bittersweet victory. I got home…..and BALLED.

I was starving, since I didn’t get to order and not hungry all at the same time from all the chaos and BS of dealing with my baby girl who just needed to go to bed I guess. We tossed her in jammies and she drifted peacefully to sleep. The boys went to bed just as easily.

And then I made myself the best gall dang breakfast burrito!!

Eggs, sausage, hickory smoked maple bacon, fresh diced potatoes and FRESH, oh yes, FRESH homemade tortillas sprinkled with cheese. I ate till I felt like the fattest cat around. Like I was the most depressed woman crying into her Haagen Daas….in my case…..my papas y frijoles. Watched some bad TV and then went to bed before 11pm. And that my friends is how parents eat free on a Kids Eat free dinner night.