Post July 4th

Independance day always brings me back...

My dad used to sell fireworks out of his trunk and our garage. Whatever was leftover he'd set off in the neighborhood. We never had to go anywhere to see them, the show was always in front of our house.

Actually, scratch that, he didn't set them off himself. He used to give them to asshole kids on the block for them to set them off. I guess he didn't want to get burned, thought it better for kids to...good man.

My dad was always obsessed with making money "off the books." He always had side jobs, fixing cars, selling pot, creating a little store in our garage filled with things that "fell off the back of a truck."

Come Christmas, people would shop in our basement for Yankee Candles, Nine West Leather Jackets, Baby Phat sweat suits...yeah...even those.

I thought nothing of this.

He was also Mr. Fix It...you know, jack of all trades, master of none. Whatever he "fixed" would be broken again in no time at all. We once had a hole in our ceiling for a year. Tile that was missing in the kitchen...a toilet that had to be "flushed a certain way" - OR ELSE.

Termites ate through our floor once and he tried to fill in the gaps with CAULK.

His whole deal was he went to Aviation High school...he wanted to be a pilot, or work on planes, or whatever. When he got out of high school, everyone came back from the war and took all the "air plane jobs" WAH WAH WAH ...so he settled for being a mechanic.

He was good at that, but for some reason my mom's car always ran like shit. So we'd be all on the side of the road, stuck, with mom crying in hysterics trying to pull someone over to help us...and my sister and I, catching crickets in the grass. After a while I learned how to add water (poor man's antifreeze) to the car so we could be on our merry way.

These are the sweet memories I've been blessed with.

FINISH HIM

I hate fighting. I like resolution. I'd prefer it if the resolution came promptly after the fight.

My man would be fine just hanging up pissed off at each other and then pretending like nothing happened the next day. I don't know why, but I can't function like this.

Also, I don't think I'm smart enough to win an argument.

I will start off strong but I'm draggin ass by the end of the race. I forget my point, I start blubbering mindlessly, I go on tangents that take me far away from whatever I was angry about to begin with.

Also, I'm poorly armed with a shit memory. So if someone asks me to give them an example of the behavior I am accusing them of...I'm all...."Uhhh....I DON'T KNOW I JUST KNOW YOU DO IT. FUCKER."

Fuck.

I don't have any fight or flight either. I just stand there, like a dumb ass...lost. (Ref: Ford Fuckus if necessary)

I *think* the fights I witnessed/participated in as a child just weren't sufficient.

Mom: HEY, Laura! Did you just slam the door on me?

(I look around, I'm the only one there.)

Me: I'm not Laura.

Mom: WHY DID YOU SLAM THE DOOR ON ME LAURA?!

Me: No one slammed the door. I'm also still not Laura.

Mom: YOU are a little bitch, YOU KNOW THAT LAURA?

Me: Ok, fine...I'll be Laura. But who are you going to be?

Mom: I can't even deal with you right now. I need to find my other daughter.

Other daughter, meaning me, of course...but I didn't have the heart to tell her. She just seemed so determined!

Harassment Commandments

All of these big companies have anti-harassment policies and you always wind up having to sit through this whole internet-presentation about what harassment is, what you should report, what you're not allowed to do...

You would think that if you managed to get yourself hired to begin with, you should have enough common sense to know that certain behaviors just aren't acceptable in the work place.

For your amusement, I will share the cliffs notes version of such a policy:

1. Thou shalt not circulate pornography throughout the office using company email. (NOW what am I going to do with the second half of my day?)

2. Thou shalt not exchange sexual favors for promotions. (Guess I'll be an assistant forever.)

3. Thou shalt not stalk other employees.

4. Thou shalt not make racist comments.

5. Thou shalt not post offensive cartoons in one's cubicle. (My walls are now bare - HAPPY?)

...then they give you situations.

Someone posts a picture of Suzy's head on a naked body and makes photocopies to distribute throughout the office. What should Suzy do?!

A. Correct the problem by photocopying an ACTUAL nude photo with her own body for distribution.
B. Quit her job and contemplate suicide from the stress of it all.
C. Retaliate against employees a la trench coat and assault rifle.
D. Notify the HR department.

Hmmm...decisions, decisions...

The Ford Focus

It's rare that I post twice in a row. So, you know this must be special.

I have anxiety, fine, we know this. I also just FREAK out when it comes to unfamiliar territory. As summer friend told me yesterday, the following is a depiction of the exact opposite of what she would have done -

I'm driving to pick up the girl in Long Island, the details of this are unimportant. I left after work and sat in two hours of stop and go traffic. You know...you go a little, maybe make it over 20 mph and then come to a complete stop.

I'm about 20 minutes away from the house when I start coming to a stop and I hear "CRUNCH." I perk up and look in front of me, did I hit the car in front of me? How could I do that? I was stopping! I look in my rear view mirror to witness some nasty old fucker throwing his car in reverse and driving away...leaving me there.

He bumped me and I, in turn, bumped the car in front of me. The SUV in front of me. He pulls over leaving no space for me so I pull over in front of him. Before I can even get out of my car or make words the man is at my window, he says, "It's just a scratch, I'm going." He leaves me there, too.

Fine, I drive away, shaken, but okay.

I get to summer friend's house. Before I get out of the car I call my man. I tell him someone bumped me on the road and drove away. I'm okay. It wasn't that hard, no damage. I hang up. (See what I left out there? But no harm done, right?)

Wrong. So, so wrong.

I get out of my car and I see what I've missed - why everyone ditched me on the road. I HAD DAMAGE. One of my headlights was pushed under my hood and the hood was popped up. I start to hyperventilate. I go in and confess my sins to summer friend.

She's all, "WHY DIDN'T YOU GET THE PLATES OF THE OTHER GUY? WHY DIDN'T YOU GET OUT OF YOUR CAR? WHY? WHY? WHY?"

GOD I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, OKAY? I'm slow. I'm a dumbass. I'm fucking disabled when it comes to stuff like this. I start sweating.

Of course, now I have to call my man and fill him in on the details I had previously left out. Hello dear, I actually bumped someone, too, with your car, that I am not even listed on the insurance to drive, and I have damage....and I'm sorry and I love you and please don't kill me, bye.

He didn't answer so I left a message. All the while my ugly mangled Ford Fuckus staring at me through the window...while my kid jumps up and down next to me asking me, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO OUR CAR?" Get away from me child before I run you over, too...

Man calls back later, doesn't even care. Is happy I'm okay. Summer friend's husband fixes the headlight so it looks like nothing ever happened. Happily ever after. I really freaked out for nothing...sorta. Moral of the story? Don't tailgate. No wait...don't be a fucking dumbass. Yeah.

A swan

I let the girl sleep in my bed sometimes. She gets nose bleeds now and then. She got one last night. I heard her in my sleep and she said "Nose bleed!" so I JUMPED out of bed and ran FULL STEAM...right into my CLOSED bedroom door.
I typically leave it open but when it's hot I close it because we have the AC on. I'm not sure what she would have done had I knocked myself unconscious...I have a bump on my forehead.

I also have Mount Vesuvius and his distant cousin setting up shop on my face. Guess the ol' time of the month is on its way.

I'm a picker by nature, but I won't pick these. They aren't quite ripe yet. My man thinks my picking is unnatural...a disease even. But I know I'm not alone in this. There are others of my kind.

I had to pick up a new Crackberry for work. They are hooking it up now, you know, so I can be reached 24/7. Yay me.

Went to a bowling party for some friend of the girl. Boring as fuck. Those heinous old fart school moms ignored me as per usual. Hate. I managed to make a friend though. We talked about school, homework, how kids are funny and men are stupid. She told me why she won't let her husband help the kids with their school work.

Assignment: Write a sentence for the word, "swan."

Child writes: "A swan will shit in your garden."

Father says: ...nothing. And allows the child to bring this homework into school.

Men just fuck shit up badly enough that we won't ever ask them to do something again. Crafty little fuckers.

Maybe if I fuck up a BJ a few times I won't be asked for them anymore either...

Drunk You

You now how there's you, and then there's that other you...the one that comes out when enticed with alcohol? The "you" that you've carefully locked away with years of practice from repeated humiliation...but alcohol is the key to that lock? The drunk you. The Mr. Hyde. The one that embarrasses the FUCK out of you now and again and occasionally leaves you with nothing but a spotted memory in which you appear to look great, but in fact have ruined your reputation beyond the point of repair.

Oh, you don't have that? Well, nobody likes you.

I don't let her out now. I'm a grown up. I know the signs. I have been born with the gift to cease and desist upon the feeling of the numb face. Numb face means I have had enough booze to be social, but I should most certainly stop before the caged bitch-ass-whore is let loose on innocents.

I mean, she's completely inappropriate. She moons people. She throws things. She's rude and has absolutely no filter. None. She will say things that will get her, and anyone who associates with her, a decent beat down. She gets mad at twins simply because they look alike and confuse her. She falls asleep in front of firehouses, she yells at inanimate objects (ie: parking meters, trees, etc), and she's prone to impromptu dance performances wherein it is unlikely that such a thing is appropriate.

She's hazardous to my health. She ruined my future in politics, should I have ever wanted one.

Well, this wasn't in the brochure

...and there I was, wondering what on earth I would do with my first weekend as a free woman.

So, I quit the job I stopped loving months ago, you may recall a decent sized bitch-ass-rant about the smile nazi, a large part of the reason why I started looking else where in the first place. The cloud must have been too busy premeditating future mishaps because BITCH MISSED OUT on this one! I got a new job making significantly more than I was, and for once, I'm happy.

My brain isn't even sure how to handle this amount of happiness. I'm still getting used to it...because it's so foreign to me...I feel like I just spotted a unicorn, or found out there really is a Santa Clause and I, in fact, did not hallucinate that time I swore I saw him as a child. (Well, I was 15, but whatever.)

Friday my summer friend called and propositioned me with a road trip upstate to drop off a couple of ferrets at a rescue. I shit you not.

Of course I went. My kid loves her kids more than she loves me so...how could I deny her this opportunity to hang out with them? She says, "Be ready because I'm getting up at 6:30." Okay...sure. She arrives at 10:30, and I am ready with munchkins and coffee.

We set the navigation and we're on our way. It's supposed to take about 2.5 hours to get to the "big yellow house" in Hudson Valley. Approximately two hours and fifteen minutes into the trip a child asks, "Can I hold one of them?" Sure, we say. Mere minutes later we hear:

HE POOPED ON ME! AHHHHHHHHHHH!

The kids scream... I scream... friend screams...the poop child cries...we fly off the road and pull over. I open the window because the stench activates my gag reflex and vomit won't help anyone at this point. We throw the blanket with poop out the window. We find wipes and try to start cleaning her up, as well as the damn ferret that has actual diarrhea on it. It was like, caked into his fur *gag* and friend is holding it by the nape of it's neck as it dangles over the open munchkin box and coffee cups.

She wipes the poop off the ferret but with any kind of pressure the thing starts swaying back and forth. I witness the poop particles falling into the munchkin box. So now, she holds the thing and I start wiping - tossing each wipe out the window - as well as the contaminated munchkins and coffee. The kids are still screaming/crying but we are now hysterical laughing and I'm also still trying my best not to vomit.

Now, a man strolls out of the store we pulled over in front of with a garbage bag. Busted. We had completely littered his little lawn with shit-ridden paraphernalia. I look at friend and she says, "I'll do it." (Damn straight she'll do it. I wasn't about to touch any of that shit.) She apologizes profusely to the man and we're on our way.

We arrive at the "Big Yellow House" that is the ferret rescue. I'm not sure what anyone else was expecting but this pretty much fit my assumptions. It was a white trash dump, complete with about 50 ferrets- that we could see anyway. The smell. The creepiness...I was thinking we should have left some evidence of our trip behind so they could locate the bodies once we were reported missing.

We made it out of there, with all of the children in tact and we found outlet stores on the way home. Thankfully, retail therapy is a cure-all.