Stuff On My Mind (AKA Updates)

Here it is:

1. I saw a few little blurbs on facebook tonight about an impending global disaster, which will then bring forth a food shortage, the likes of which have never been seen before. People blabbing about how they've been stockpiling food for the past year, how much a 50 pound bag of rice costs, how much rice can sustain a person for x amount of time, so on and so forth. Huh? Okay, I'm still on my news moratorium, except it's starting to creep back in because I have found myself checking the local newspaper website a few times a day. I don't like that I'm creeping back over to obsessing about the news, because it only brings me anxiety, but I'm finding it hard to stop. So a food shortage? Holy shit, should I be stockpiling food too? What should I buy? Just a few cans here and there? Peaches or pears? I mean, it probably doesn't matter because you'll eat anything when you're starving. Where should I put the food I start to stockpile? Attic or crawl space? Although, it's not really a crawl space for me, because I'm short. So it's a stand space for me. I have shelving in my crawl space, but maybe I should move the shelving to the attic. Nah, the temperature extremes in the attic probably wouldn't do good. So maybe I'll start to buy three or four cans of shit on sale per week and stocking up. I'm not sure if this is just fearmongering to the extreme, so I've sent a message off to Uncle Finance (not Uncle Hippy!) through Uber Aunt and we'll see what he says. Should I stockpile water, too? I'm never sure about the water thing. I've only stockpiled water once, during a hurricane when the county water source was compromised. And that stockpiling consisted of me filling up the bathtub.

2. Made it through a year with Guy #1. We recently celebrated one year since we started dating, and guess what? Got engagement? Don't worry, I don't. Lots of discussion and chatter amongst our various friends about when that time will come, I suppose because for a lot of people, that one year mark is "it". Nope, not for me right now. We've settled into something right, something that is so right that I can't even find the words to describe it, other than it's righter than anything I've ever had before. We talk about when "the" time will come and he knows that I'm not ready. I *just* got divorced, and really, I'm enjoying having my own house where I'm in charge all of the time and no arguments about what I want to do in my house. Ten years of a shitty marriage, constant bickering and power struggles will really make you appreciate not arguing all of the time. The few times that Guy #1 and I have argued, it's been really nice that we can just go to our separate houses and not have to be together (in that moment in time, at least). And for real, this man is a k.e.e.p.e.r. of the first order. Any man who can stand twelve feet up in the air on a ladder and pull start a gas powered blower to clean my gutters out is the man for me. Or maybe that's just the firefighter in him, I don't know. But as I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night, I know that I am loved, and appreciated and cherished. That's some powerful shit. I've had a few men that I've encountered over the years tell me later that I was the one who slipped away. And guess what? Guy #1 will not be one of those men. If you've got something good, then don't let it slip away.

3. My older daughter got glasses this past week, and also had her tonsils taken out. So she gave a little and got a little. Two days after surgery, just when I knew that we had bid a fond farewell to strep throat, guess who go strep throat? My younger daughter. Are you kidding me? However, I've gotten so good at diagnosing that shit that we marched right off to the doctor's office, who promptly examined the child and pronounced that she did not have strep throat. Until the nurse poked her head in the examination room and whispered the strep test was positive. DO NOT QUESTION THE MOTHER!!!!! Dammit, we know what we're talking about! I wanted to tell the doctor if I was drug-seeking, and if I were to use my children to seek out drugs, it sure as hell wouldn't be an antibiotic. Just give me the damn prescription and let me be on my way. The older daughter likes her glasses, though. I secretly tried them out after she went to bed the other night and they seem more like magnifying glasses to me. It's just for reading, so maybe that's all they are is magnifying glasses wrapped up in a pretty Candie's frame with hearts on them. Being that she's still reading below grade level, I am slightly hopeful they will help, but I'm not holding my breath. I've diagnosed this as the most minor of all reading disabilities, because her fluency is below grade level, but her comprehension is on par. Plus, she's actually absorbing the reading because she reads a chapter out loud and then I ask her to tell me about what she read and ask her questions, and she's on the money every time, which means she's not just saying the words. She's actually reading and absorbing. I have pretty much stopped expecting the school to address it, because she's one of a thousand students in her school (holy fuck, that's a big elementary school!!!) and I'll just have to figure this out as we go along. And her grades are good (other than reading fluency). So go figure.

4. Not-so-nice things with The Ex. If you read my last shortest of all posts, you'll know that things are getting ugly on the visitation side of the custody thing. Instead of just heading right to the courthouse today to file for a hearing (as I threatened him with last night), I called my attorney today. I'm waiting on a call back, and maybe a strongly worded letter from her will set things right. In the meanwhile, though, I've printed up every email and begun transcribing all of our text messages and every other kind of communication. I think I've known for a while it was going to come to this, and that alone saddens me because I don't want to be in a place where I have to sit down every day and write everything down. I just don't. It's stupid and I hate it, and it makes me feel like I am still stuck in this strange, demilitarized zone of our divorce. I felt like for most of the marriage I was raising another child (and not doing it very well because it's hard to go back and correct 30-some years of fucked up parenting) and now I just feel like I'm his supervisor and I've ramped up the documentation in a last ditch effort of getting rid of him. But this is what I have to do right now. I look at my gorgeous, funny and most sweetest daughters, and I wonder how in the world the two best things that ever happened to me resulted from what is undoubtedly my biggest mistake. This paradox is not lost on me, believe me.

5. I called my stepsister tonight to let her know that my daughter's birthday gift arrived and she answered the phone sobbing. This would be the stepsister that I still speak to, if you hadn't figured that out. And for that one milli-second in time, I thought to myself, "Oh, shit, why did I call her tonight?" You know it's bad when that's the first thing you think upon hearing the other person. She went on to tell me, between sobs, that she's been diagnosed with a chronic, progressive pain disease thing that not a whole lot of people know about (that whole lot of people would actually be me). Ultimately (per my favorite medical source, Wikipedia) and in the extreme worse case scenario, it can lead to amputation of the affected limb. Except this shit is in her back. Yep, no such thing as a back amputation. Horrible, right? But here's the rub - this stepsister has been getting progressively fruitier over the years, much like her mother, Mothbrain, and I'm not sure how much of this is just maybe her need for drama. I feel badly for her, certainly, because she's states away and no family nearby to help her out, but at the same time, I'm like, "What?" It was after that phone conversation when I realized that my drama is really garden variety, and for real, I have no reason to complain about anything. And so, I won't. I've still got a leak in my roof (contract signed, repairs not for another two months due to hurricane backlog), I've still got bills I'm going to pay late, I still owe my younger daughter a bike for her birthday, I'm still going to get fucked on taxes this year because I can't go from six withholdings to zero in one year, I'm still not going to know if I should stockpile spaghetti sauce or just plain tomato sauce, I'm still not going to be able to figure out how to tell the world that saying "Holy Shart!" is way funnier than saying "Holy Shit!", but in the grand scheme of things.... Life is good. My children are healthy, my family is healthy, I am healthy, (knock on wood because I'm terribly superstitious about jinxing myself) and that's all that really matters.

An Open (Albeit Anonymous) Letter

Dear Mrs. PTA President,

I'd like to write this letter to address your numerous Facebook posts begging for assistance. With everything, probably to include wiping your big ass. Actually, I would hope that your husband would handle that for you. I am beginning my fourth year in elementary school (3rd grade daughter) and my second year in elementary school (1st grade daughter), plus the five years I spent myself in elementary school, which should have been six years, but the school system I transferred into was still 20 years later trying to put itself together after the MRI. That would be Massive Resistance Incident. Actually, that school system is about at the 50+ year mark and it's still not got it's act together, but that's a whole other issue.

I appreciate the time and effort that you and the other mothers put into the PTA. I especially appreciate your weekly newsletters and how many trees you must contribute to killing on a yearly basis. However, it's not even November and I've had just about enough your perkiness. Here's a list of all of the shit that the PTA has orchestrated thus far this year, along with what I've done.

* Back-to-school picnic. This should have just been called "Take your kid's supplies to school and get roped into picnic on the playground". Well, I wouldn't have even gone, but since the school requires about $150.00 worth of supplies at the beginning of the year, it was more shit than my kids could carry on the bus. I opted not to help, mainly because I don't like the PTA moms (more on that later), and because I just didn't fucking feel like it. We also didn't buy dinner at the picnic because I didn't want to eat cold pizza or the local chicken shack. And, I was crabby that day, too.

* September Chicken Shack night - nope, didn't do this, but we never do this one. Thank God, the older daughter doesn't like Chicken Shack, and besides, why would you do a monthly fundraiser for a school with an enrollment of 1000 at an establishment that can't possibly seat more than 78? Per the occupancy code the last time I was in there. Nooooo thank you.

* Back to School Teacher Breakfast - nope, I didn't volunteer to help with that, either. I have a j.o.b. and have to work on weekdays. Plus, I find teacher conversation to be quite boring unless it's related specifically to my children, and once teacher-type people find out what kind of job I do, they usually try to sidle off because it's not for the faint of heart. I tend to bring my career up to people I don't want to talk to, and then just let them remove themselves.

* PTA meeting and Back to School night for kindergarten and first grade - Yes, I went to this, but I wasn't quite so panicky about missing first grade information this year, especially since I've done first grade once on my behalf and once on my older daughter's behalf. And blissfully, the school has a new principal this year which meant that he didn't start out the PTA meeting by blathering on about the school rules and all of the accolades the county has or has not heaped upon him. The fact that he didn't even wear a tie was comforting, because I'm pretty sure the last principal thought she was a Neiman Marcus model, but that's what happens when your husband is a Hall of Famer. NFL, that is. And guess who didn't show up? That's right, baby daddy didn't show up. He's pissed me off so much and disappointed MY children so much in the past week he's getting ready to lose his capitalization.

* Back to School night for second and third grades - I did this one too, and even sat through another PTA meeting that was put on for the parents that missed the one held at kindergarten and first grade night. I withheld my vote that night, and you should have remembered to tell parents if they already voted that they should withhold their votes, too. Baby daddy was there for this one, sitting next to his next door neighbor whom I hate with a passion of all passions. May her hair fall out for her continuing to dye it all shades of brown, red and blond and then claiming that each is her natural color. Bitch, I'm not stupid. And, I know you didn't get your boobs done because no boob job sags like that eighteen months after the alleged surgery. You just got some fancy bras from Victoria's Secret and hiked those old worn out puppies up under your chin.

* Back to School night again, Bageezus Christ! But not for me because it was just fourth and fifth graders. If I'd been thinking ahead though, I would have gone and snuck into a fourth grade class and hung back and acted like someone's aunt so I would know what to expect for next year.

* County-wide donate denim stuff at the mall - didn't do this either because I didn't know what it was until you kindly took the time to explain on the Facebook page two days before the whole thing was over. And no, at that point I wasn't going to dig through my jeans to crucify myself about what doesn't fit so I could donate it. Dammit, those jeans will fit again! Sometime. I hope. But my boyfriend keeps telling me how much he likes my ass, so maybe I'll just stay the way I am.

* Boxtops - Yes, yes, yes, I do this, but if my kids and I make it through elementary school and neither of them wins the drawing for the big summer boxtop collection prize, I am going to be pissed. I spent months and months clipping boxtops, strongarming coworkers and family members, and guess who won the drawing this year? The older daughter's archnemesis. I shall spend this school year trying to figure out how to either fix the drawing so that one of my children wins, or just sabotage the whole damn thing.

* Join the PTA - Yep, I did this, too, although I don't know why because membership comes with no rewards and you're still going to kill trees and send all that shit home with my kids whether I'm a member or not.

* Kid's concert by some Wiggles-like singing group at the local mall - I actually thought about going to this, until I realized the tickets were $17.00 A PIECE. Wha?!?!?!??  Uh, I don't have that kind of money, and for that price, you need to have an open bar. So we didn't go and I elected to let the more affluent families of the school pick up that tab. And pick it up they did, because our school had the most number of tickets purchased and won a free concert at the school! Go rich families of my kid's school! You rock!

* Blurb on facebook about the PTA needing to borrow carnival games. I thought about being a complete asshole and purchasing a bunch of carnival games, and then having the athletic association reimburse me. And then, I was going to email you, Mrs. PTA President, and let you know that the athletic association has carnival games that you can rent for a small fee. Which would be half of the purchase price. I think that would have been completely fair, since you refused to loan the school mascot costume to the athletic association without a deposit check last school year. I must say, I giggled when I saw the athletic association represented at the Back to School picnic in their newly purchased mascot costume, just like a big, giant FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU!

* Fall after school program - Yes, I signed my kids up for this. They like it and I pretend like the cost doesn't hurt.

* Order pizza online from a certain pizza place and a percentage goes back to the school! - Wow! Except I don't like this pizza place and am pretty sure it's just baked throw-up. So, no, not doing that one.

* My Coke rewards - Holy fuck, whoever is chairing the fundraising committee needs to take a fucking break. I drink a lot of Coke and you shall get none of the codes. Nor shall I enter them for you.

* Fall fundraiser - I probably would have ordered something, except it all appeared to be complete crap. I don't need any wrapping paper, thanks though. The athletic association had a better fundraiser and that's where I spent my money. You should call the cheer director for tips, which I am sure she will give you but only after she makes a passive-aggressive comment about the mascot costume-deposit-issue from last year.

* Jogging Club - Okay, this is a good idea, especially because it's free, except I have a j.o.b. and can't get my children to school 15 minutes after I'm supposed to be at work to run around the bus loop for 25 minutes. The older daughter is still complaining about not being able to participate in this, but since I've found a neighboring athletic association that offers summer track and field, she might get her run in after all. If I can't convince her to go for swim team this year.

* Monthly jumpy house fundraiser - That's the baby daddy night with the kids and he's damn sure not going to spend any money on that, nor would he spent time jumping around in the jumpy houses with them. Two points to my super-fabulous boyfriend for jumping his heart out last time we went there.

* Skate night - I had to work late and my kids had homework. Maybe next month.

* Pizza joint night - Football and cheerleading practice, and we probably won't go next month because you've managed to find yet another TINY restaurant that we can all cram right into.

* Fall dinner and pumpkin night at school - Yes, I got your numerous emails pleading for volunteers to serve food and do other stuff. I'm not volunteering because I don't want my kids running around willy-nilly for an hour unsupervised, but mainly because I volunteered last year and most of you bitches wouldn't speak to me once you figured out I didn't live in your neighborhood. Mighty high falutin' considering I've run into Mrs. PTA Vice President in the nail salon a time or two completely bombed out of her mind and the last time she was so fucking drunk she couldn't hold her head up and had to prop it up on the nail drying station (a little problem there, Mrs. Vice President?), and Mrs. PTA Treasurer has an older son with absolutely no manners, breasts that hang down to her belly button, a deeper voice than my boyfriends AND a unibrow, and Mrs. Spirit Wear Committee chomps on bubble gum like she's getting her jaw ready for a home version of Deep Throat. The movie, not the Washington Post informant.

* Fall book fair at the local big-box bookstore - I volunteered for this a couple of years ago and really just wanted to spend the two hour time slot reorganizing and straightening up the entire store, not making small talk about what teacher wants what book. But I will go next month and buy a few books.

All in all, you do a great job. But please consider that some of us have a career that involves leaving our houses every Monday through Friday, and that some of us don't make the kind of money that I suspect your husband makes. And also consider that some of us are involved in the athletic association, and so we know what kind of little dirty games you play. Oh, yeah, and stop being so perky. Your ass is too big for that.

Best,

A Nearby Parent

What It Do, Part 1

This is very possibly a several part update of what's been going on with me. In no specific order...

1. First of all, if you like my stuff, and you're on facebook, go to your search bar and type in "Curls & Stuff" and my page will pop up. There's only one Curls & Stuff on there, which is, yes, you guess it - me! So help a sister out and give me a like or two. Feed my narcissism. Actually, not, but let's get me up over that 25 mark so I can have my own web address or whatever it's called. And send me to your friends! Pass me around! Uhhh, trust me, that really is the first time I've ever said that.

2. Also, even if you don't like football, still check me out on Armchair Linebacker, which is a blog I have been invited to contribute to weekly. Fridays, to be specific. A homeslice of mine from high school does it with some friends of his, and they've come up with this weekly pretend gambling and commentary thing. This was the first week of us doing this, and I have to admit, I've enjoyed it so far. Me contributing to a football blog is about the equivalent of my homeslice contributing to a blog about The Real Housewives, so my commentary and weekly picks have more to do with team colors and graphics and other girly kind of pick stuff, but it does break up the monotony of three football geeks blathering on about actual football stuff like players and stats. Four of my five picks won this week, but because of the point spread (which I still don't freaking understand) I only won pretend money on three of the games. So my buddy told me when I emailed him to ask about it. Goddamn Indianapolis. That was $600 pretend dollars I could have used to get a pretend Brazilian and a real life roof repair. I don't know what's going to happen if I gamble all of my pretend money away and the season's not over. I guess I start pretend hooking with the other three players to get some more?  Anyway, it's www.armchairlinebacker.com

3. The trip to Indiana and Chicago was great this summer. I survived the ride there, survived meeting the family, and survived the plane trip back.
Special notes:
* Driving through Indiana on a stormy night and using the lightening to look for funnel clouds really is scary as shit. In fact, it was the same night the stage thing collapsed at the Indiana State Fair.
* There's a lot of damn corn up there.
* Guess who won $60 buckaroos playing bingo at the American Legion hall? That's right, yo' girl did!
* One of Guy #1's aunts cornered me the second night there and wanted to know when he and I are getting married. That was a little awkward and it was hard trying to explain I really want The Ex to get his third divorce before I have my second marriage, especially whilst pinned up against pool table.
* The biggest trainwreck on the trip wasn't me or the dog, it was most likely his teenage daughter. Whew! for me.
* I feel a swelling of pride that I successfully navigated O'Hare. I know I can do anything now.
* I didn't understand why the flight attends in Chicago kept talking about flotation devices, and so I didn't pay attention. Jesus, we weren't going over any water! And then, when we'd been up in the air for about fifteen minutes, I made the mistake of looking out of the window. Oh my god, what is that? Uhhh, we were supposed to fly AROUND Lake Michigan, not OVER it. The only pilots authorized to fly me over water are the guys who do their thing on Air Force One, and Capt. Sully. I was pretty pissed that US Airways did not clear this with me in advance. So needless to say, the window shade came down and I pretended like I had never seen that huge blue expanse.
* My layover on the way home was in Philadelphia, and I got off the plane at Terminal B. My connecting flight was a Terminal F. Logically and alphabetically, that should have been a fairly short walk. Instead, it was a long walk to a shuttle bus, a long ride to another airport (it seemed like), and then another long walk. Holy fuck, Philadelphia, can all the terminals be in the same fucking jurisdiction?
* And finally, the biggest freak show in the Philadelphia airport? Got on the Richmond flight. Shout out, VCU!

4. The school year is off to a great start for my little angels. My older daughter got a teacher that she didn't know much about, but Mrs. Third Grade Teacher seems awesome in my book. She seems professional and somewhat detached, and all about using her website for parents to get information they need every night. My daughter likes her and Mommy is happy. And for some reason, third grade seems easier than second. My younger daughter likes her teacher, though she didn't know a lot of kids in her class. But she's enjoying the year so far and it's good for her to step outside of the friend box and make some new ones.

Next up: What It Do, Part Deux. We shall cover cheerleading, football, The Ex and maybe Guy #1.

Bear With Me...

Bear with me while I rant just one more time about The Ex. Okay, "just one more time" really means "today" in Stephanie-speak. I realized tonight that I need to quit checking his facebook page on a daily basis. I didn't used to do that, until the whole middle-finger-picture thing, and now I feel compelled to check it regularly to make sure he doesn't have my children hanging off of a stripper pole or anything like that. But anyway, while he hasn't posted anything inappropriate, he has posted a few lies.

Here's my interpretation of a few of his facebook postings. This could be really funny, or it could be really catty in that ex-wife catty kind of way.

Woke up and the house was 48 degrees. After only a small fortune, a wink and a promise; a brand new motor resides in my attic to run the fan next to the furnace. This means either his girlfriend paid for the motor or his mother did. I'd vote for the girlfriend. Yet another reason I let him keep the house and then made sure I purchased a house with a 6 year old heating system.

What's on your mind?.......Shameless self promotion! An appropriate post for a narcissist. I'll get into that later.

Replaced the ______. Down-sized a bit ;) This was a post about him getting rid of the SUV and buying his mid-life crisis vehicle. The new smaller sports car goes fast and probably doesn't last too long, like his dick.

VCU!!! Ahhh, the eternal college student. I am so glad I won't have to worry about paying back those student loans. His girlfriend can take care of that, too.

‎3 for 3 for 3 I don't even know what this is. He had sex three times in three days and it lasted for three minutes?

Amusing what gets noticed and ignored... gotta' love honest feedback. This would be for the people who made not so complimentary comments on the picture of the children with their middle fingers up in the air, but then didn't comment on his engagement. I can only assume.

Happy Easter! Just finished one of the best sets I've ever played Okay, it was at church. Are you kidding me? Jesus said, let not your drum stick break, for I give you my rhythm.

enjoying an evening of dinner, homework, and games with my daughters. Life is good. Except he didn't do any fucking homework with either one of them. You lie!

What really concerns me here is that if I keep checking The Ex's facebook page he's eventually going to do one of those stalker apps and my mom is going to end up being his number one stalker. And then he might unfriend her, though I would have thought he would have already done it after I confronted him about The Picture. But it also makes sense that he didn't, because that's not someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder would do.

And that's the real crux of this post. Yes, I've called the man a psychopath once or twice. To his face. Okay, okay, maybe it was a little bit more than that. And maybe I was screaming. But now that the proverbial dust has settled, I've come to the conclusion that this was a misdiagnosis on my part. Silly me, I got my Cluster B personality disorders all mixed up in the unfolding drama of a separation and divorce. Oops.

He's not a psychopath. I've come to this conclusion because I know he was never diagnosed with Conduct disorder as a youth. However, after spending some time with Holy Grail of All Shrinks, I know what I'm dealing with. 

Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  Defined by the Shrink Bible, "A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:"

Here we go. Follow along with me.

"1. Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)         YES

2. Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love    NOT SO SURE ABOUT THIS ONE

3. Believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)     NOT SO SURE ABOUT THIS ONE

4. Requires excessive admiration            YEP

5. Has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations            AND THIS ONE

6. Is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends     OH, YES

7. Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others       STILL A YES

8. Is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her          AGAIN, YES

9. Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes             HEY, ANOTHER YES!

10. Often mild to moderate paranoia, that others are out to do him in.      NOT SO SURE - COULD BE WELL HIDDEN

11. Predominant "name dropper" boasting or suggestion association with people or affiliations of importance."              AND UM, YES AGAIN

* See footnote below because I don't think I can properly footnote this thing.

So, our yeses are: 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 11. That's eight and the requirement is five. Buh-ingo.

I married a narcissist. And then I divorced a narcissist. It was all my fault, simply because nothing is ever his fault. It's cool. We will see how the next marriage shakes out. I give her five years, which would be exactly five years smarter than me.

And now, I've gone to Google. Can you believe that if you type in "how to mess with a narcissist" 234,000 hits come up? And this page could become my best friend: http://thebitchnextdoor.com/. Hey, they even have t-shirts and mugs! Holy shit, I need one of those!

Stay tuned. I've already got A game, but I might be getting ready to take it to the Ivy League level. 

* Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-IV-TR

Bittersweet

Monday night and I'm hungry. I worked until seven this evening, and I had exactly two diet pills and a couple of handfuls of cheese crackers to eat today, along with about three gallons of water. Summer time diet! That super cute halter top I bought needs to fit. If I can drop seven pounds off of my lower half and three pounds off of my breasts, I will be good.to.go. And... because of this diet... I am ONE CRANKY BITCH. I am so far gone into the bitchiness and crankiness that my Diet Pepsi Max isn't even working. Kind of like my epidural with the younger daughter. They made me wait for two hours before giving me the epidural, which meant I had been in labor for about four hours, and I missed the fucking window. So I got a needle stuck in my spine for a whole lot of nothing. I've missed the caffeine window today, and this got kind of ugly for the last person that I was seeing at work. Oh well, I guess that's your punishment for waiting all day to come and see me to take care of business.

I didn't get everything accomplished that I wanted to this weekend, which entailed all of the yardwork I wanted to do, get the entire house cleaned, get all of my work caught up from work, get all of my work caught up for the non-profit, make the signs for the athletic association, get all of the bills paid, do all of the laundry and still squeeze in getting laid. Let's see, I got a little bit of yardwork done, cleaned the kitchen twice and the living room once, two hours worth of work done for work, zero hours worth of work done for the non-profit, no signs made for the athletic association, no bills paid, half of the laundry done (and one load twice because some damn child left a candy bar in their pants pocket which then looked like shit smeared all over the inside of the dryer), and maybe something on getting laid, but that was a rush job. I did all that and ran to the younger daughter's gymnastics class, off to buy a birthday present for one of her friends and then off to the birthday party, fixed dinner on Saturday night for the children and Guy #1 that was not up to my standards (but damn it I was tired) and then discovered on Sunday that the older daughter has lice. Oh my god. Are you kidding me with this? Off to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled for the lice cream and then back home to make it happen in her hair. I hate putting these chemicals in her hair but I hate the kid that she got lice from even more. And how does one kid in my house get lice and the other doesn't? How does that happen? They are both bathed at the same frequency. I decided tonight that this is it. I'm not dealing with lice any more. Both children will be getting a once a month vinegar treatment from here on out. It's got to be better than slathering DDT into their hair. It just has to be.

The whole bin Laden thing happened, which caused me to sit up until almost one o'clock this morning watching the news. As a caveat, I've never served in the military and I don't know personally know anyone who was lost in any of his terrorist attacks or while fighting the war on terror. Additionally, I don't know much about Middle East relations other than what I pick up only sporadically in the news. That being said, I was, and still continue to be, struck by the celebrations that erupted around the country last night when the news broke. Yes, the man deserved to be hunted down and removed from this planet, and in doing that, we've ascertained that he will never plan another bombing, but I think it's also pretty certain that another one will step up to fill his shoes. Maybe not with his abilities, but I don't think we can rest easy now. The Department of Homeland Security isn't just going to be absorbed into another agency. Our mass transportation systems are never going to go back to the way they were on September 10, 2001. Nothing will ever be like it was before. No matter what we do, we can never go back to who we were The Day Before It Happened.

It felt very surreal to watch the news last night. Last night, and today, I keep going back to the feeling that we've sacrificed too much to celebrate. We've said goodbye to thousands of people who never should have been lost, and we've sent many more off to look for that bastard and to either come home in a box, or come home with body parts missing, or come home never to be the person they were when they left. So where does this leave us?

Is our planet, our global community, a safer place for the permanent removal of bin Laden? Without a doubt. But no matter who we hunt down and kill, it will never be the same place.

A very bittersweet victory.

At Least It Wasn't...

The whole thing about The Ex posting pictures of MY children (they are only MY children when HE fucks up) shooting the bird kind of exploded today, except in a quiet kind of telephone discussion in my office with the door shut. My goal was to remain completely calm while still sounding slightly pissy, all the while alternately shaming and threatening him into understanding that this is not a laughing matter.

For real, it's not a laughing matter. This is a very clear picture that he posted on facebook of two beautiful little girls sitting in the backseat of his mid-life crisis car, very specifically shooting the bird, with smiles and glee abounding. Uh, are you kidding me? The conversation didn't go very well as it ended up with him claiming that he didn't know the girls were doing that while he was taking the picture (bullshit!), and then claiming that right after taking the picture, he immediately talked to the children about how inappropriate their behavior was (bullshit!), and when questioned by me as to why he even posted it up on facebook, he said that this was just a representation of how life really is (and more bullshit!).

I very nicely told him that I didn't believe him, and he very nicely told me that he didn't care what I believed. I then took it up a notch and told him that I would be reviewing the picture with the older daughter's psychologist, and that I would be following the psychologist's recommendations regarding the matter. He said that was fine. So, I took it up one more notch, and said if the psychologist recommended that I take him back to court to get full custody of the children, then I would be doing that. Silence on his end. And then, I took it up one more notch. Because silence wasn't acceptable. I wanted to feel his ass squirm through the phone. This is what I said. "Do you really think that a judge would believe that you didn't know what the children were doing? Do you *really* believe that? And do you really believe a judge would find it acceptable that you've posted this on facebook for the entire world to see?"  Best part is... this wasn't even my trump card. And no, I'm not telling what the trump card is because I have a sneaking suspicion that I will still have to play the trump card at some point in the future.

The end result? The picture has been removed from facebook. I was less than pleased when I talked to the psychologist today and he told me if the picture has been taken down from facebook, then just leave it alone. No, goddammit, that's not enough. I want this moron to be court ordered to take a parenting class, and then I want him to be court ordered to actually be a good parent. I want him to parent with some common sense, and to at least be big enough to man up when he screws something up. But it's not going to happen like that, and I know it.

I spent some time on Wikipedia tonight reading nothing but the truth, of course, and researching obscene gestures. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose this isn't the worst gesture the children could have used. Okay, flipping someone the bird is bad. It's rude, it's disrespectful and it's horrible to see children doing it.

But I suppose it could have been something along these lines...

The Shocker.

To be followed by The Spocker, The Rocker and the grandaddy of them all, The Show Stopper.

I will say... this is kind of funny since it's not my kid. Funny in that empathetic way of who is the dumbass who taught him THAT? Because that dumbass must be related to the dumbass I married who posted a picture on the internet of my children flipping someone off. It was probably me. Hey, Mom, fucking check us out! No rules! No reading! No bedtime! TV on ALL the time! No vegetables! No protein! No bathing! No hair brushing! Hey, fuck you and your rules, Mommy!

Whoever the mom is in this picture, hey, I feel you, girlfriend. I too hooked up with a dickface and then had children with him. I feel your pain. Parenting would be so much easier if we only had to parent the children.

Huh?????

So, I've enjoyed a really nice spring break. Spent some quality time with my children doing a whole lot of not much, got some yard work done, helped my Other Mother with some of her stuff, spent some quality time with Guy #1 and.... introduced the children to Guy #1. And it went really well! Of course, I had been agonizing for weeks and months over this moment, and had cleared it with our child psychologist, cleared it with my mom (not really but it kind of sounded good), cleared it with Guy #1, cleared it with the children, and it was a good trip to Token City Pizza Place with Big Rodent Mascot. And by tokens I mean actual game tokens, not a racial kind of token thing. 

I had some more quality time with Guy #1 tonight, and then came home to collapse in the bed before I get up in the morning to go help Other Mother with her moving and cleaning stuff, but then I got on facebook. I thought, well, what the hell, I might as well log in to my mother's account and see if dickface has posted any updates of what he's been doing with the children for his allotted two days of spring break. Love you, Mom, for giving up that password!

Oh my god, The Ex is engaged. Whaaaaaaaaat? Whaaaaaaaaat? Are you kidding me? Oh my god. Hold on just one damn minute here. Let me get out my divorce papers. Holy fuck. The damn judge just signed the papers on March 9th. That's March 9th of THIS YEAR. And he made this announcement on April 21st. Of THIS YEAR. Oh my god, that's one month and twelve days after he just got divorced! Oh my god, what a complete moron. Oh my god, this poor woman has no idea what she's getting into. But really, that's not my problem. But back to the topic at hand. The Betrothal. Interestingly, it's interesting how few letters separate the words betrothal and betrayal. And beware. I guess if I mix all of that together on a Soul Train Scramble Board, I could probably come up with Boris Yeltsin. Mad word skillz. I am telling you.

But anyway, OH MY GOD! Who gets engaged less than two months after the divorce is finalized? I mean, really, who does that? Well, other than my ex-husband, who does that? Jesus H. Christ. I'm not even Catholic and I want to say a couple of Hail Marys here. Or something like that. I smell Epic Failure Number Three on the horizon. For him, not me. I've only had one epic failure.

I think this is just really indicative of the psychopathic and yet still incredibly needy nature of the incredibly overgrown 13 year old that I married eleven years ago. Either that or he's realized how expensive it is to Cobra my health insurance and he's decided that he needs to get married for the health insurance and so he won't have to file single-head of household on taxes again. But I don't think he's smart enough to get married for tax or insurance purposes. I think that this is just his way of not being alone. I knew this was coming, but I thought later this summer or in the fall. I guess the actual wedding will be in the summer or the fall. Who knows, maybe next week. I mean, fuck, why wait at this point?

So I guess the next thing, besides actually getting married, is to figure out who is going to move in with who. Will The Girlfriend sell her house and move in with The Ex? Or will The Ex sell his house and move in with The Girlfriend? I don't really care either way, except The Girlfriend doesn't live in the area. Luckily, thanks to her unusual last name and my internetting skills, I know exactly where she lives, what her house looks like, how long she's lived there, how much she paid for it and how much it's worth right now. Can anyone say underwater? But to her credit, who isn't underwater in this economy?

What's really weird is that I talked to the children tonight and nothing was mentioned about the nuptials. So either they don't know, even though everyone on facebook knows, or... they don't want to upset Mommy. Which really wouldn't upset me, other than me trying to figure out how to continue to be the stable person. Since their father can't really do it.  I won't even mention the picture of the children he posted on facebook of the girls blazing their middle fingers. Yes, that picture has already been placed on the very top of the "I-think-I-need-to-have-custody-all-of-the-time-because-you-are-too-incompetent-of-a-parent" file that may end up in Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court.

The saga continues... Stay tuned because this will surely get more interesting.

Technology Is A Bitch

When I was little, there was no cable TV. There were three channels in the Richmond area on VHF, and then a couple of channels on UHF. If you wanted to change the channel, you got up from the sofa and walked to the TV and turned the dial to whichever of the ten numbers that was on the dial, and then you sat back down and watched the TV show. Most everyone had an antennae attached to the roof of their house so that they could catch the VHF waves floating through the air, and maybe if the weather was just right, you could get a UHF channel on a good day. ABC, CBS and NBC were VHF channels and FOX (before it was FOX) and PBS were the UHF channels, which meant they didn't get much viewing.

Cable came to the Richmond area when I was in third grade, and I remember the girl next door got cable. There was a box about the size of a small shoe box attached to a cord that ran to the box on top of the TV, and there were buttons on the box. This was how you changed the channels, and as long as you didn't trip over the cable running from the box on the TV to the channel changer, you were good. Even then, if I recall, there were only about thirty channels to chose from, and some of those were New York or Chicago stations, so if you got tired of watching the Richmond news, you could quickly switch over to a Chicago channel and watch the news. Then you would just be grateful you didn't live in Chicago.

There were no cell phones. I remember watching Charlie's Angels and such when I was little and they had car phones. There was a box between the front bucket seats, or built into the lower console under the dash, and the phone was corded and ran into the box. Logically, this didn't make sense to me, because there was no cord running out of the car into a phone outlet anywhere, but that's Hollywood for you. The Six Million Dollar Man was never logical, either, but that's a whole other topic. And when I was in high school, Miami Vice burst upon the television, and we all learned that car phones looked like long narrow shoe boxes that didn't need cords. The beginning of the cordless phone, at least in my consciousness.

We all had record players and tape players, and if you were really, really cool, you had a boom box with a double tape deck where you could copy tapes that you borrow from your friends, or *even* make a mix tape for the guy you were "going with". Which makes me wonder if kids even call it that anymore? What's it called now? I remember those little notes that would get passed over in between classes, or would travel from one pubescent hand to the next until it made it to your hand, that would say, "Will you go with me?" And the excitement in the girls bathroom between classes when you would tell anyone who was there to listen and sneak a cigarette, "So-and-so asked me to go with him!!!" Because the only thing left to do was nurture that relationship through hand-holding in the school auditorium, necking in the corner at school dances and make that budding relationship last long enough to get The Class Ring. The Class Ring, to be immediately wrapped with tape so it would fit snugly on your forefinger and sported about. Every girl was sure The Class Ring would immediately be followed by The Engagement Ring, and a few were. None of mine were, and that's fine. I'm where I am because those incredibly intense teenage relationships weren't meant to be, though some have worked out to be incredibly endearing and comforting friendships.

Anyway... technology. I got started on this whole thing because I'm trying to link my damn blog up with my damn page on facebook. I've got the little like button on the side bar of the blog, and I thought that if you clicked the like button it would immediately transfer over to my facebook page, and it would just all be linked together in some mysterious and awesome technological way. Um, it has not worked out like that. For real, when it comes to technology, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I have no idea, and I'm frustrated by that. It should work on the computer like I have it worked out in my head. Because how I have it worked out is really so much easier than the computer is making it. Fucking technology. So if you like my stuff, and really, who doesn't?, then check out my page on facebook and HELP ME GET MORE THAN EIGHT FREAKING FANS.

Updates

Okay... So.... Ummm.... WHO THE FUCK DOESN'T LOVE VCU RIGHT NOW????? Yep, headed to the Final Four, after winning over top-seeded Kansas this afternoon by ten points. The game today wasn't as climactic as the game on Friday night, which was won by one point in overtime with about ten seconds remaining. So now there's all this chitter-chatter on facebook, of which I have contributed, VCU! Rams! There's all kinds of post-game analysis of what did VCU do right (they won) and what did Kansas do wrong (they lost), predictions of the VCU-Butler match-up, how long it'll be until Head Coach Shaka Smart moves on, what this means to Richmond, blah blah blah. Of all the pre-game predictions that I came across, the smartest and most succinct was from a blogging homeslice of mine who basically said that the Kansas team has a tendency to implode at the most inopportune time and today was that day.

I'm somewhat annoyed about the discussion of the bandwagon fans. If you're alumni, you're not a bandwagon fan. Either you or one of your relatives paid dearly in the form of tuition to be a fan, whether it's a diehard or sometime fan. Or maybe VCU paid your way in the form of a scholarship, or maybe the Feds paid your way in student loans that have since been defaulted on. Who knows and who cares? My little birthplace has a spot in the Final Four and I don't think that's ever happened before. We've seen almost-major-league baseball and hockey come and go, arena football teams float around (does Richmond even have one anymore?), a short stint with the women's pro basketball league, and we've watched all the Northsiders charge mad money every May and September to all the Nascar fans for the right to park in their front yards. Other than that, Richmond hasn't been represented much. So yeah, lots of bandwagon fans who aren't bandwagon at all - they just like seeing one of their hometown teams go big.  And mad props to everyone on Friday night who at the end of University of Richmond game pulled off their UR t-shirts to reveal a VCU t-shirt.

After a consultation with the older daughter's psychologist, I'll be seeking an outside educational assessment from someone, yet to be determined, to figure out what's going on with her reading. He agreed that I probably can't count on the school system to step up at this point, and I understand that. They have to deal with the worst case scenarios first, and then work their way down. I have a feeling that my older daughter's reading issues are pretty minor in the grand scheme of the enrollment at her elementary school, which is about 990-ish students. But that's fine, because my personal enrollment is exactly two, so I'll step up where the school system can't. I haven't bothered to tell The Ex this yet, but since he can afford a new sports car to go with his new mid-life crisis, he should be able to pay for half. The only thing missing from his mid-life crisis is a baby, and I doubt he'll bother to get his nuts untied for that.

And, on the same vein, The Ex reported tonight when he dropped the children off that there was a problem this past Friday with Mrs. Second Grade Teacher having to address the older daughter twice in class for playing with an arts and crafts kind of thing she snuck into school. Apparently Mrs. Second Grade Teacher told the older daughter that she needed a note from her parents regarding the matter so that she would know that the older daughter told us about it. Here is the type-written note to Mrs. Second Grade Teacher from the douchebag that I married. Obviously I have replaced real names with my special little nicknames I use in my blog. Obviously.

"Dear Mrs. Second Grade Teacher,

My older daughter told me about an incident that happened in your class on Friday. It is my understanding that she was playing with some "arts and crafts stuff" during instructional time and that you took it away. I further understand that it was returned to her and that older daughter said she would not play with it any more. Older daughter stated that she broke her promise and continued to play with the "arts and crafts stuff" during class and that it had to be taken away again.

Older daughter and I talked extensively about how important it is to pay attention in class and also how important it is to keep a promise not to do something, especially after she was given a second chance. I believe older daughter has a full understanding that her behavior was unacceptable, and that by reneging on her promise she was actually lying. She understands that she made poor choices and that her behavior must be corrected immediately.

Please feel free to contact me if my discussion with her about this poor behavior choice is not immediately corrected.

Thank You,

Dickface"

And here is my hand written fantasy letter to Mrs. Second Grade Teacher that will accompany his type-written letter on the printer that I let him keep.

"Dear Mrs. Second Grade Teacher,

As you can see, it's March and this is the first communication you've received all school year from older daughter's father. Upon reading the letter, you will probably note that he is trying way too hard. I disagree with his claim that reneging on a promise is actually a lie, but he still has issues with the fact that I decided after taking my vows that he was really a complete dickhead and I really didn't want to be married to someone who would randomly demand that I perform oral sex upon him. But that's his issue and I pretty much told him that fact. I have also spoken with the older daughter, and probably in a more effective manner than her father, since he doesn't bother to get involved in much of what she's doing other than playing Wii, and she understands that she cannot take her "arts and crafts stuff" to school anymore, which she snuck in to begin with. Since you are such a shitty teacher, I've decided that just speaking with her is enough of a punishment, as the real punishment for her is having to deal with you day after fucking day. If you review her father's letter, you'll notice he's provided no contact information for you to get in touch with him. This is because he really doesn't care to be involved other than providing lip service, and because I haven't listed any of his information down on any of the repetitive school paperwork I've filled out. This is because I know he's not going to do shit. So if you have any other issues with older daughter, you can reach me in the normal fashion, which is to press Speed Dial #1. And upon reaching me, I will give you hell like I do every other time you've reached me.

Sincerely,

Mommy Extrodinaire"

Yep, that's my fantasy letter to Mrs. Second Grade Teacher. However, instead of sending in my fantasy letter, I will simply send his letter in with a sticky note from me on top that says "You can reach me on my cell at 123-4567 if you have any other issues. Mommy."  Despite all else, Mrs. Second Grade Teacher knows who is actively involved in the older daughter's school work and school issues. A sticky note will suffice.

Had a great weekend with Guy #1. It was very rudely interrupted by reality, which came at about 5:20 this evening when I had to come back home and wait for my kids to get back from their weekend with The Ex. The Ex has started having The Girlfriend spend every weekend with him, even if the children are with him. And no, I'm not okay with this, but I've talked about it with the child psychologist and he's basically said that I can raise hell and go back to court and demand this and demand that, or I can just roll with it and continue to be the responsible adult in the children's lives. I've decided to just roll with it, because I don't want to deal with whatever The Ex might say to the children if I take him back to court, and because I don't think anyone would emerge victorious. All in all, I'm just having a really hard time of not falling into whiny mode of "it's not fair", because for real, it's not. The Ex doesn't miss anytime with The Girlfriend, but because I have not introduced Guy #1 to the children (and because they don't even know about him), I get to go for about nine or ten days without seeing Guy #1 and goddamnit, it's just not fair. I think I have done really well not falling into the pity party that lives in the back of my head, but it's been extra hard today. I'm so pissed that I'm the one who has to be responsible and has to be concerned about the children all the time. I'm pissed that I can't squeeze a little extra time in with Guy #1, and I'm pissed that Guy #1 also gets the short end of the stick. But I have to keep remembering that the children are the priority right now, and at the end of the nine or ten days will be Guy #1, waiting with a big hug. I can make it, I swear I can.

This Started Out As...

A little post about stuff I like, since I waxed poetically yesterday about shit I don't like. I thought I should probably have a little list of stuff that makes me happy to offset the list of shit that makes me not-so-friendly. But then, of course there's always a "but then...", I stumbled across The Ex's facebook page for his dumbass band with his dumbass friends, and saw that he has his first 'gig' scheduled for a Friday night in April.

Well, given his propensity to schedule stuff when he is supposed to have the children, I immediately ran over to my calendar, where I've already figured out our weekend schedules through August, and checked out that day in April. Of course he has the children that weekend. Why in the fuck would he even begin to think about actually spending any time with his children? I suppose I'm the moron for even assuming he would want to spend any time with his children, considering he only sees them every other weekend and one night per week until 8:00. And he keeps asking to switch that one fucking night because he has other stuff going on. He called the other day and wanted to start switching the night in April because he has something else to do on the pre-arranged night. I asked him why couldn't he schedule the other stuff around the children? And he replied that that's exactly what he's doing. Incorrect answer, douchebag. In fact, the only correct answer would have been to say that he needed to jump in a goddamn time machine and take that question back out of the atmosphere of my brain.

I guess I can assume he's going to figure out the week before, maybe a couple of days before THE weekend that he's got this stupid-ass 'gig' that he's double-booked, and he's going to call me to make some kind of arrangement, because I doubt he's going to be able to take our younger daughter to her Friday night gymnastics class. I hope the people who succeeded in raising a complete douchebag are going to be available to help him (meaning his parents) because I'm not going to fucking do it. I am so tired of my children getting short changed from him I don't even know what to do. I am tired of him acting like the victim, I am tired of him acting confused about when his weekends are (every other weekend, motherfucker!) and I am tired of everything else taking priority over the children that he very willingly helped create.

And this is the shitbag I'm going to send my children to live with this summer. I keep waiting for the call from him saying that he doesn't think he'll be able to have the children this summer because he's got too much other stuff going on, and I keep wondering if the children will be at his house for three weeks or so and then he'll call, full of manipulation and douchebagginess, and claim that the children miss me so much that they'd rather be with me. I suppose we'll see. I've got about two months left until I pack the children up for summer and I'm not really looking forward to it.

In fact, I'm feeling so incredibly far into the realm of PMS (because this all ultimately connected to my menstrual cycle) and passive-aggressiveness that I might just make a WHOLE LOT of fake facebook accounts so I can post stupid shit on the wall of his band.  Stuff like: You SUCK! Man, you guys are ugly AND sound bad! Don't quit your day job! Those 102 people who like you must be relatives! Hey, can you please post more sexist comments because they are AWESOME! Tiny dicks rock out! I've heard better music at a Special Olympics recital! And, to go back to the old standby, You SUCK!

I think I missed my calling as a professional heckler. I'll let you know how it goes.

Stupid Shit I Look At When I'm Sick

Stupid stuff I look at on the internet when I'm too sick to go to work, but recuperated enough that I can actually walk and stay upright for most of the day. Maybe I'll give my commentary after each item, and maybe I won't. Thank god for the history thingy on my internet because most of this shit is so stupid it's already left my brain.

And not in the order of the clicking:

1. Amazon - "The Official Filthy Rich Handbook" and "True Prep: It's a Whole New Old World". I came across this after I read an article in Virginia Living in the sick waiting room of the pediatrician's office today detailing the new prep, complete with models from our very own men's single-sex college right near where I grew up (and where I never, EVER behaved badly) and their more delicate (although those girls can usually drink pretty hard) counterparts from one of the women's colleges within a two hour drive. All of the models were wearing preppy clothes and posing like an Abercrombie ad. All first names were unisex. None of them looked like they might be partaking in student aid. I like that Amazon has taken some of their books and put some of the pages on a PDF-type format so you can review/read prior to purchase, but I felt like I would have gotten more out of that particular kind of viewing if they had put ALL of the pages on the PDF-type format so I could have just read the entire book for free without having to inconvenience myself by going to the library or the Big Box Bookstore. Gas is too expensive to be running back and forth to the library. And for some reason I always feel like going to the library is a little to liberal for me. I don't know why, but I'm just unsettled by the whole loaner thing.

2. Blogger - My blog, of course! Duh. Not editing, just reading obsessively and adding,more,commas. I,love,commas,can't,you,tell? I like to think that I make the comma work for me, not the other way around.

3. Wikipedia - Holy god this is a long list, and really quite indicative of the odd mish-mash of stuff going through my head at any given point in time. Here goes: Ax Men. Beaver Hunt. Bell's Palsy. Bob Guccione. Chex Mix. Collegiate secret societies in North America. Diavik Diamond Mine. Elaine Benes. Farmville, Virginia (the guy I graduated from high school with and who gave me the stash that got me suspended for six weeks is no longer listed as a notable resident), Gloria Steinem, Legionellosis, Rachael Harris, Playboy Bunny, Playboy Mansion, Seven Society, The Lady of Rage, Wikipedia, Zach Galifianakis.   Okay, so with Wikipedia one click leads to another leads to another and before you know it a whole freaking three hours is gone and you're only less-than smarter for it.

4. facebook - self explanatory. What did I do before facebook? Oh, right, I had a life.

5. Google - But I didn't Google myself. Today.

6. J. Peterman - This is how I ended up on Elaine Benes in #3. Trying to figure out what catalog that was.

7. Overrated Children's Gymnastics Place - This is the place that I would not be using now for the younger daughter if I didn't have a credit on my account from when the older daughter broke her arm last spring.

8. Spiegel - Wow! That stuff on clearance is really cheap, considering it's Spiegel.

9. Williamsburg Marketplace - Secretly, I'm a snob when it comes to my home decor. I can't afford any of this shit now, but a girl can plan. Hello, super-gorgeous pineapple trivet! I'll be back for you another year!

And there you have it. This is what I do when I'm cooped up in the house half-sick with a whole-sick child. I am still pleased with the fact that I have managed to quit craigslist cold turkey. I guess that's what keeping the company of an occasionally nekkid man will do for you.

Not So Stupid Stuff in My Head

Yes, it's true. In addition to the stupid stuff in my head, I also have not so stupid stuff in my head. Here goes:

The Japanese Tsunami - I've had to call a moratorium on my news boycott for this one. I think this is because of our perverse desire to see horrific things happen to other people, ala rubbernecking. Really, that's all the news is, electronic rubbernecking, which is one reason why I don't watch the news. At this point in time, I probably won't donate any money, because I don't have any extra money to give, but if I change my mind it will be solely because I know the Japanese are pretty self-sufficient and won't immediately begin to demand foreign aid and then when the foreign aid is sent, they won't bitch about why didn't we send more. I think the ability to survive the first nuclear holocaust has proven them to be self-sufficient, and so, I'll wait to see what happens. For some reason this whole thing just kind of reinforces in my mind how dangerous cruise ships are what with rogue waves and such. I fully expect that the liberal media organizations in our country will find a way to blame the tsunami on our last President. Other than that, I'm annoyed that all of the major news channels on cable seem to have somehow managed to synchronize their commercials, because my plan of action last night was to watch a channel until a commercial came on, and then flip to the next channel and repeat. But they all had commercials on at the same time. Damnit! You are messing up my non-stop coverage. I'm also somewhat disappointed about how the news has been dumbed down, or maybe it's always been dumbed down for the masses and I'm just smarter than the average person. I mean, who doesn't know what the Ring of Fire is? Or maybe this is just a filler. Of course, I was always amazed when I would watch one of the late shows and they did "Man on the Street" kind of interviews where they would stop random people on the street and ask them the most basic of questions, like "Do you know what the Holocaust was or name the current Speaker of the House" And some of those people didn't know.

5.3 - This is the rating that was given to my blog by the editors of the blog site I recently signed my blog up on. You submit your blog for approval, and then professional editors review it for approval and also rate it. I'm a 5.3. I don't really have a problem being reviewed for content and appropriateness, but I'm a little annoyed with my end result. Specifically, I was rated on frequency of updates, relevance of content, site design, and writing style. Okay, I had a four month period of time when I didn't post. Sorry. Was working on the love life, not the write life. Relevance of content - probably the most subjective category, because people will blog about anything. I think the food blogs are the most annoying (and gay) to me. Who actually reads that tripe? Site design - sorry, I don't want to post a 350 word post about a finding a new restaurant in the city, and I don't want my blog to look like some fancy news magazine. I've come across a couple of good blogs to follow (that are highly rated) even though I wasn't really looking to begin with, but the writing is too short and leaves me with too many unanswered questions, and the sites look more like something a fancy ad agency has created. I just think that too much visual clutter takes away from the writing and is distracting, and if you're not going to write much, what's the point in having a blog anyway? Writing content - Yes, I know I'm not for everyone. But if someone can't get my writing and enjoy it, that's probably someone I wouldn't want to hang out with to begin with. Personally, I rate myself at precisely 8.798432. A suggestion on another site was to turn your blog posts into e-readers, which I may look into when I'm not feeling so internetically lazy. That might actually be more appropriate since I actually write versus blurt, which I think most blogs should be called. Blurts, because that's about all there is.

What is up with my daughter? - This is my weekend without my children. I feel like we've really settled into a great routine, all things considered. Summer is fast approaching and I really don't know how I will function without them being with me full time. I feel the anxiety creeping up on my slowly, but I know it will start to increase more and more the closer we get for them to go live with their father during the summer. My own personal tsunami of anxiety, to use a horrible analogy. I put them on the bus in our neighborhood yesterday and told them I would see them later today at the cheerleading banquet. My older daughter has started to pull away from me a little bit in public because she's getting to that age where it's not cool to hug and kiss your mom in public. We went to the school skate night earlier in the month and it was the best skate night ever for me, because she wanted to hold hands skating around the rink. But anyway, she won't let me give her hugs or kisses when we say goodbye in public and she generally acts relieved to be getting away from me. So imagine my surprise when she called last night. Generally, on a Friday night that she's with The Ex, I am the last thing on her mind so we don't talk on the phone. I know she needs her time with her father without me calling, especially when I just saw her that morning. But something was wrong last night. She was quiet and I could feel something wasn't right through the phone. When I asked what was wrong, she just said in the littlest voice ever, "I just miss you.", and then she started crying. Which immediately made me want to cry. This is not her norm. I don't know what happened, other than The Ex took the children over to the cheer coach's house to pack up pies for the sale at the cheerleading banquet, but I wondered if there was some bad-mouthing of Mommy going on, or if something else had happened. Of course she wouldn't be able to say because I could hear The Ex clearing his throat periodically through the phone so I know he was sitting right beside her. That motherfucker just cannot respect anyone's privacy. I told her we would find a quiet corner at the banquet to talk this afternoon and just have some Mommy-older daughter time for hugs and kisses. I absolutely hate that she has to go through this.

Best click ever - This is what Guy #1 told me last night, right before he gave me an awesome shadow puppet lip-synching show on the ceiling of my bedroom backlit by his cell phone. Keep in mind that we met on a dating site, and really, out of the eighty bazillion mouse clicks I've ever made, he might be my best click, too. I wish we could get paid a penny for every click because then I wouldn't have to worry about trying to find somewhere to get affordable tires and figure out how in the hell to pay for them. But that's neither here nor there. I think he's starting to get worried that I haven't introduced him to any of my friends or family, but I don't see them that often. My life is wrapped up in my children - I don't have time for much else, unless it's on facebook. I haven't seen one of my best girlfriends since the summer, the other one at Christmas, and I don't think I've seen any of my family other than my mother since Christmas. Holy bejesus, where does time go? But yeah, I like knowing that I'm the best click ever.

Accomplished!

Since I'm not quite as tired tonight as I was last night, I figured out the whole facebook thing. Actually, I think I am probably more exhausted tonight than I was last night, but I don't really care tonight because my plan of action for tomorrow does not include work. It does include Guy #1 and taking a nap. Maybe not even in that order.

My facebook page for my blog is up and running. So hit the little like button and you'll automatically like my blog on facebook. I think. I haven't tested it because I only have my account, and apparently you automatically like any page you create without an option for unliking, and my mother's account. I don't want to have my mother like it because then The Ex might see that on his news feed and get curious, especially since my mother is never on facebook. She has no idea how this stuff works and really doesn't want to know. I guess if I didn't bug the shit out of her on a weekly basis she might be inclined to learn, but why screw around with facebook when I'm calling her all the time? This reminds me my wedding reception when my mother had a few too many glasses of wine and tipsily told The Ex, "Well, she's your problem now!" I guess not, Mom. Ha ha! Joke's on you! I am pleased that I am continue to make her relieved she only had one child.

I've come to the conclusion that if you are trying to be somewhat surreptitious on facebook you really need a second account. And that would be the fake account that many of us have if we don't have a Mom who signed up and then forgot about it. As long as my mom doesn't develop an interest in facebook then I'm good, though I should probably tell her I friended her up with her cousin who then promptly sent her an email. Which I did not read. Love you, Mom. And my aunt can feel free to send another friend request, but my mom won't get it. I'll get it and then friend you up with her and she'll never know. To my aunt: You will get more conversation out of her at ballgames and such than you will on facebook. Because it's just me on my mom's facebook account.

Anyway, that's it for me tonight. I've got to get up early and pack the bag for the children to go to The Ex's this weekend. He's extra pissed that I reminded him about the cheerleading banquet this weekend, because he acted clueless about the whole thing when I mentioned it tonight. And this from the person that showed me the flyer and then said I needed to get my own flyer about it. His face got all squinched up in that I-forgot-to-do-something-and-now-I'm-pissed-and-am-going-to-try-to-guilt-and-manipulate-you-into-doing-it-for-me. I just stood there on the front porch and looked at him. And then he adjusted and said he would just have to drop the girls off because he wouldn't be there for the first hour of it. Nice, motherfucker. And I didn't offer to give him my flyer when he didn't know any of the details about the banquet, because he probably should have kept track of the flyer he already had. And yeah, that whole exchange felt really good.

How Hard Can It Be?

Tonight's big project: trying to grow my blog. Sounds easy, right? NOPE.

Failure of the worst kind. I figured what I would do is get my blog its own page on facebook, which should be pretty easy considering the number of stupid pages out there that I see on an hourly basis. And then, I could just link my new posts directly onto my blog-affiliated facebook page and grow from there. Hey, like me? Send it to a friend, blah blah blah.

But here's the catch. I'm trying to keep myself relatively anonymous on the blog, which means I'm not linking up to my real facebook page. This is for several reasons: 1) I like to do shit in an incredibly complicated manner, meaning when I finally get it sorted out like I had planned in my head, I feel even smarter than I actually am because I know it's yet another occasion of me driving around my ass to get to my elbow, 2) I don't want any of my co-workers to know about my blog. This is for several reasons - I don't want to become the water cooler topic of the day, and even though I haven't mentioned my employer or my profession on my blog, I don't want to give anyone any ammunition, and lastly because I really don't want to hear the snarky comments from my co-workers about how often I'm getting laid. I figure if I wanted them to know all that, I would just send it out on an email to the whole office. 3) I have spent an inordinate amount of time on this blog bad-mouthing The Ex, most recently mentioning I hope he catches gonorrhea. Obviously, I would prefer that he not find out about my blog. I also don't want a cease and desist letter to come from his attorney, and I just prefer that my blog generally remain nameless. I think it might be more fun for the reader because then the reader isn't bogged down with remembering all of these names AND relationships, and no one gets bogged down with name-baggage, which everyone has to some degree or the other. I also think it makes it easier to pick up reading right on the current post because all I'm doing is naming the relationship, which hopefully means the reader will probably never wonder to themselves, "Who in the hell is The Ex? Mrs. Second Grade Teacher? What about Guy #1?"

This epic failure that I experienced tonight is almost similar to when I started my blog and then signed in using an email account that didn't even exist. To which I had to hurry up and create that account so it would exist and my blog name didn't end up being given away to some other unknowing person with the email account I had just signed up using but didn't actually own. If you can even own an email account, that is. Again, driving around my ass to get to my elbow from the brain. I'm smart and all, but making something super complicated in my head and then still managing to conquer it makes me feel even smarter. Like my taxes, of which the state tax filing was quickly pulled out of the mailbox the other morning when I realized I might have missed a deduction on the federal filing, thus maybe not making me as much in the hole to the feds. So I will be going over to my mother's again on Saturday morning for round #3 of tax preparation.

Back to facebook. I go to the pages section, pick out my category and create a page. I then immediately send the invite or whatever it is to the 31 friends I have (out of the 160-something) that already know about my blog. I realize I can toggle back and forth between my page for my blog and my personal page. Cool! And it doesn't show up as something I like on my personal page. Go to a different web browsing tab and log into my blog. View blog and hit the share button on the facebook icon under my most recent blog post about how I'm trying to get linked up on other sites. Uh-oh. A little error box pops up on facebook and says I must be using my page as me, personally, to be able to share that on facebook. What the fuck? Why? I don't want to do that, because I don't want my blog stuff on my personal facebook page. I want my blog stuff on the page I just fucking set up for my blog stuff. So then, I figure that I can just cut and paste a link to my blog right in the link section of facebook blog page. OH SHIT! It also cut and pasted the picture of me from my blog, which is very similar to the picture on my personal facebook. So either I can remove the pic of myself from my blog (which I'm not going to do because I'm kind of attached to it at this point) or I can figure out another way around this and still remain anonymous.

Jesus Christ, this is getting complicated. Okay, the problem here must be about all of these stupid permissions. So I toggle back and forth between my blog, my blog email, my personal facebook and my page facebook and try to change all of the permissions for both of the emails and the settings. I was feeling pretty slick by the time I got done, because I had just linked everything to everything else and so it was just a big, circular I-just-beat-the-system kind of moment. Go back to the blog page and hit the little facebook link and motherfucker, that same error box just popped up. Are you fucking kidding me? I just spent 30 minutes of my life changing everything and now it still won't work? Now I feel stupid because it just can't be this difficult and complicated. It can't be. Goddamnit, I'm just going to have to start all over. Deleted the facebook blog page and now I think that if I create a fake personal facebook profile with my blog email, and then create a facebook community page, then I can use that to link up to my blog site and it will be completely unaffiliated with me personally.

But I'm too tired for all this tonight. So shout out to the person who sent a facebook friend request to my anonymous blog email. As you can tell, I'm working on it. I suppose it would be easier to just come out of the blog closet, but then it wouldn't be as much fun and somewhere along the line The Ex would find out and that wouldn't be any fun, either. If growing my blog was as easy as growing my jeans size, I would be golden. But it's not, so I guess I'm just beige for right now.

Stay tuned.

Trying To Get Myself Linked Up...

Trying to get myself linked up on a couple of different sites and get a facebook page for my blog going. This won't be quite as easy as it would appear, being that I have elected not to share my blog with anyone I work with (I don't want to be the water cooler discussion of the day) or anyone affiliated with The Ex (because I've spoken poorly of his penis numerous times on here). So to the person that sent me a facebook friend request on my anonymous asshole email - shout out! - check my page out on facebook named.... wait for it... wait for it...  Curls & Stuff. I've checked The Ex's friend list and hopefully you are not one of his friends who created a fake profile to lure me into friending you. I also hope to get myself linked up on a couple of other sites (NOT craigslist) and stuff, but this whole technology bit is a little difficult for me.

Stay tuned!

More Stupid Stuff In My Head

Procrastinating about going to sleep, because, well, if I don't go to sleep then I won't have to get up in the morning and then I won't have to do all that shit that I need to do tomorrow. Like pack a bag to go to a conference and send my children off to my mother's for the night. But I'm only staying one night because the thought of being away from my children on school nights is giving me anxiety. I feel like this routine I've worked so hard to perfect since late August will be totally blown out of the water with if they spend more than one night with my mother. Or anyone for that matter. I'm totally fine with them going anywhere on the weekends, but week nights? School nights? I think not. I also think the separation anxiety I am having from being away for one school night is exacerbated by thinking they will have separation anxiety from me, although, I know realistically that's not it. What's really going on in my head is that I feel like their father has already fallen down on so many promises that if I am not there, they might worry I'm crapping out on them, too.

Taxes. How the FUCK did I go from being married and getting THOUSANDS of dollars back each year at tax time to owing the feds? How did that happen? I have six months of mortgage interest to claim, one child, daycare expenses, medical expenses, sales tax, anything my mother could find to itemize and I STILL OWE????? I am so incredibly pissed at myself for agreeing to let The Ex claim our younger daughter that it's not even funny. Greedy bastard. I guess that's the big fuck you I get for agreeing to him not paying child support, though in his defense (why do I even bother to defend him?) he does pay the younger daughter's child care and some other lightweight kind of stuff. But I'm still mad at myself. I suppose that's what ten years of being mistreated, harassed, stalked and condescended to will do to a person's willpower. I hope he catches gonorrhea.

My mother finished up the taxes yesterday and I signed the paperwork and was getting ready to slide the form in the envelope, seal it up and mail that puppy off. My mother says, "Um, you need to put a check in with that." I was like, "What?" She said I need to mail a check in with what I owe in with the actual tax filings. Huh? That is not how that was working in my head. In my head, I was going to mail the filing in, the guv people were going to review it for accuracy and mail me a bill for what I owed. I was then going to call the 1-800 number on the bill and work out a payment plan with the guv. Kind of like my student loans. I mean, they certainly didn't expect me to pay in full upon my college graduation. Why would taxes be any different? But apparently it is. So fuck again. I just won't mail that one in right now. We're not to the deadline anyway. But I did change my withholdings today. I changed from six exemptions to five, because I've figured in order to have money to feed my children, I'll have to crawl it back each year by one. I don't even know how I ended up with six exemptions to begin with, because I got a copy of my withholding form last week at work that I filled out back in 2005 after the younger daughter was born, and all of the numbers were right. That's the guv for you. Funny math and all where none of it adds up right on one form and all of it adds up right on another form and the two forms don't match when it's time to make the forms match.

I put a profile pic on my blog. It always pisses me off to read a book and I flip to the back cover to see what the author looks like and there's no picture. Hello, I want to know what you look like. Don't be recluse. I guess I need to do that, too. So until I change my mind, freak out and take the picture off, which might be tomorrow, here's what I look like, for that one person who reads my blog who might not actually know me personally.

The suspected East Coast Rapist has been caught. I got a little panicky last week after I saw one of the giant electronic billboards on I-95 with the profile up and I came home and looked it up on the web. I'm still on my news boycott, so I don't know much of what's going on if someone doesn't tell me or I don't see it on facebook. But panicky... I came home and immediately checked all of my windows, because my bedroom windows are low enough that when my children locked me out of my bedroom this past weekend, I ran around the back of the house with a screwdriver, popped the screen off and hoisted my younger daughter through the window to run and open Mommy's bedroom door. Thank god the window itself was already open because that would have required some additional effort on my part. But dropping my child in through the window... I didn't even have to hoist her up on my shoulders, I just lifted her up and dropped her in because the window is that low to the ground. I could have climbed in myself, but the neighbors were in their yard and I didn't want anyone to see how that worked. Of course, if the morons who lived in this house before me hadn't put an actual exterior door knob and locking mechanism on the master bedroom door, this would not have been an issue. My children already know simple lock picking, but we haven't gotten to the exterior locks yet. I was waiting until middle school to teach them about the tumblers.

But after I read about this East Coast Rapist, and I knew that however many victims they know about can probably be multiplied by two or three for the real count, I got a little panicky and rushed around and checked all of my doors and locks. Even though the chances were slim he would select my house, I know that there's another one right around the corner. Maybe literally, but I hope not. Kind of like when people get all riled up about school safety and scanning ID's of people going into the schools and oh my god, it could be a sex offender. Yeah, it could be. Probably won't be, but it could be. I always tell people that they don't really need to worry about a registered sex offender trying to get into a school because there's probably already one with full access to the school WHO HASN'T BEEN CAUGHT YET. But the stay-at-home moms and administrators never really like to hear that and their faces get all tight and squinchy when I say that. That's okay. I know it's true. Jut like all of the parents like to say there are no gangs in Midlothian. Sure. Maybe not like what you see on Gangland, but if there are no gangs in Midlothian, then who put the Gangster Disciple graffiti on the big Electric Company substation box across the street from the fancy new hospital with the bell tower and the marble lobby? Oh, wait, I forgot. GD stands for Growth and Development. My mistake.

And now, I've managed to waste an hour. Time to go pack up for this shindig tomorrow and try to make it through til Friday, when Guy #1 will come over and help me paint the kitchen, which was my big weekend project, except I'm so tired of running around doing shit for cheerleading that I really just kind of want a weekend of nothingness, interrupted only by the cheerleading and basketball banquet on Saturday afternoon that I need to finish making the Pie Sale signs for and bake some desserts. But if I go the painting route, which I won't because I just made up my mind I won't, I'm thinking I can paint and he can sit and watch because I'm kind of anal retentive about painting. Or maybe we'll just hop in the sack at three in the afternoon and see what shakes out. Holla!

Stupid Stuff In My Head

I had planned to sit down and write this awesome piece on the youth basketball league game I went to this afternoon, but it will have to wait until tomorrow night because I've got too much other stupid stuff in my head just dying to come out.

First of all, to pic or not to pic my blog out. I'm so undecided on this whole thing I just don't even know what to do. I want to have some pictures to break up the monotony of the writing, and because I think I'm the only person in the world without any pics on my shit. Not OF my shit, but ON my shit. Big difference there. But then I don't want to try too hard and have obvious and contrived pictures that go with the writing and so it ends up being ho-hum in the end. Or maybe I'll just randomly find some crazy ass picture and then I'll write around the picture. Which I can totally do.

And this is what I've ended up with.

Some crazy ass picture of a crazy ass cat with some crazy ass curly hair. This totally looks like a cat that could be living in my house, if it weren't for this Screaming Mimi Siamese cat that already lives here. The kind of cat that would very nonchalantly wander through the living room when I've got people over, and the conversation would stop short and heads would turn in unison to watch the cat walk by, flop down in the middle of the living room and then lick where it's testicles used to be, since pets only seem to lick their genitals when company is around. I mean, I would totally do that too if I could. Um, yeah, not. I don't play for that team. But the end result would be someone saying, "What the fuck happened to that cat's hair?" or "Oh my god, did you curl your cat's hair?" And then I would explain, no, I didn't curl the cat's hair because I don't have a curling iron that small, but I do put scrunchies on their tails every now and then to see what happens, kind of like when you put napkin-booties on a cat. Napkin-booties on a dog don't work quite as well because a dog will just lay down and eat the napkin off of it's paw. A cat will act highly insulted and pretend like nothing is happening here, and will limp off in the most offended manner.

Marital statuses on facebook. I think they might have added to the list. This is what it used to be:

Single - I think we all know what this means. Not taken. Or pretending to be not taken.
In a relationship - I think we all know what this means. Taken. Or pretending to be taken.
Engaged - Only one or two steps away from the wedding ring. Rethink! Rethink! Rethink!
Married - You failed to rethink, or you rethought and decided it was too late to get out of it because you've already put down a non-refundable deposit on the honeymoon.
It's complicated - Finally rethinking and deciding it's not all that it's cracked up to be.
In an open relationship - This says, "My other half and I have decided to just go ahead and sleep with other people. It's cool."
Widowed - This might happen if the other person didn't really agree to sleep with other people and doesn't really agree with you doing it, either.

This is where the list stopped, until sometime last year, late summer-ish, I think.

And then they added:

Separated - Revisiting the whole rethinking part.
Divorced - Rethinking has been completed. Who knew that filing fees through the Circuit Court were so fucking expensive? I bet there would be a lot less marriages (and consequently less divorces) if the goddamn marriage license cost $750 instead of a mere $25. Just saying.

And I think they've most recently added:

In a civil union - This one actually means I'm gay and had to choose this one because "In a Relationship" really doesn't define this level of commitment and I'm not legally allowed to marry in my state. And I want to make a socio-political statement to everyone who already knows me.
In a domestic partnership - And this one means we are SHACKING UP, baby. Why buy the cow when the milk is free? Hellllll yeahhhhhh!

Here's how the last twelve years of my life would be in facebook relationship statuses. I say twelve because I was with The Ex for twelve, married for ten. Yes, we had a very strained ten year anniversary two days before I moved out. I bought him a set of plates at Wal-Mart to make up for the ones I was taking with me. Just to define boundaries, I told him two days prior to the anniversary I would appreciate NOT getting a card. That I would then feel obligated to sneak off and throw away.

Single - The Army guy I just fell in like with went back to his regular stationing in Texas. I'm lonely and you're available.
In a relationship - I am still lonely and you're still available. Sure, we can call this a relationship.
Engaged - I've convinced myself that no one else will ever want to marry me and my biological clock has become a ticking time bomb. Yeah, we can give this thing a whirl.
Living together - This was about when I became The Housekeeper and Laundress.
Married - Everyone said that getting married on a rainy day is good luck. In my heart I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking I don't really like you that much but I can convince myself otherwise - This phase lasted until the birth of the older daughter.
Oh, God, now we're stuck because we have a child together - You are effectively stuck with me forever because I am not putting my child(ren) through a divorce. I don't really care if we don't get along and have nothing in common. We now have DNA in common so let's just suck it up.
Making it work - This was the phase of me really trying hard to fall in love and make it stick.
Second child on the way - This might just cement the previous relationship status.
In my head it's not working - Realizing that I have two children I gave birth to and one I married.
I wish he would just cheat on me because maybe then he would leave me alone - Does this really need a description?
I don't even remotely like this man - This might have come into fruition around year eight of the marriage.
I am miserable - Year nine of said marriage.
Separated - Oh, sweet light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, agonizing guilt for doing this to my children.
I will never date again - Because I am really scared this might happen again.
I need to get laid - Well and often. Because a girl can dream, right?
Dating website - Which worked out very nicely after I finally stopped changing my mind. Mad props to Guy #1.
Pending depositions and divorce - Again, why are these court fees so high? That's almost two months worth of before and after school care for the one child I am responsible for paying for.
Divorce - I anticipate it will be a sad and sobering relief. Life lessons do not always come cheap. Maybe that's what the court fees are trying to tell me, or it's the government's way of trying to restrict divorce without really restricting it.

There we have it. My marriage in facebook relationship statuses.

And I'm still looking for that ghetto necklace that says 'I heart midget porn'. I could totally rock that out in a suit with some spectator pumps, but not the platform spectator pumps, because then it would look like I was just missing my stripper pole. Nah, I'll stop talking shit. I would never, ever wear that to work, just because of what I do. Which is not stripping. But I would wear it to the mall to eat a quick dinner at the food court with Guy #1 before I slide up in my favorite big box bookstore to get a second grade science workbook for my older daughter.

Stay tuned for other good stuff about the the championship youth league basketball game I went to today, Mrs. Second Grade Teacher, and Lunchtime Musings and other stupid stuff in my head.