I love party planning! Especially when it's something so fun and so original as a Gross Out Party! Hehe. I get to try to make people sick! That sounds like something right up my alley!
My sister and I were talking and we decided that we should have Evel and Shitbrick's birthday parties together so we can save some money. Evel was kind of pissed but we looked around for ideas and found this one. It's amazing how the mention of a "kitty litter cake" complete with "tootsie roll poops" can completely eliminate a tween's bad mood. I called Satan back and got her and Shitbrick on board and now I am obsessed (I love planning, it's just the follow-through that I difficulty with sometimes).
So far we've found a bunch of cool stuff. The menu includes:
Slimy Worm Sandwiches - Hot dogs sliced lengthwise and covered in ketchup
Kitty Litter Cake - If you don't know what it is, I cannot begin to explain it
Owl Barf Balls - No bake cookies with pretzels sticks and coconut flakes in them
Cheesy Burger Barf Dip - Melted Velveeta cheese, burger and salsa
Eyeball Eggs - Deviled eggs with black olives for the eyeball pupil
Booger Dip - Cheese dip with green food coloring and relish mixed in
Goblin Toes - Lil Smokies that have pimentos (toenails) stuck to them with cream cheese
Blood Punch - Cranberry juice, ginger ale, black cherry Kool-Aid mix and something else??
So this should be interesting. The pictures of the food look pretty nasty. I'm going to do another blog after the party with pictures and I'll post some links so other sickos and find gross stuff to make for their kids. Haha. There's some other really nasty things that I contemplated making, but I think they might cross the fine line between gross and obscene (used tampons, for example). Maybe we'll have an adult Halloween party next year and make the Truck Stop Toilet Dip *gag* or Tasty Turd Cookies.
And while I'm having a blast planning this, I can't help but wonder "Where in the hell did I go wrong?" How did I wind up with a kid that wants to have a party just so he can see if any of his friends puke? Am I raising another Charlie Manson? Big Daddy keeps trying assure me that it's just a boy thing but I'm not so sure. If neighborhood animals start disappearing, I'm checking our chest freezer...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
What A Waste of Oxygen
Looks like Evel's father (the biological one, not the one that matters) has managed to dodge Domestic Relations again.
After he took me back to court earlier this year to have his child support order for Evel dropped (yet again) and they told him to go screw himself (yet again), he finally started paying support. This after they threatened to throw his ass in jail (yet again). So he's been paying the support (I was actually able to buy Evel's school pictures this year! Yay!) until now. A day before his son's birthday. Seriously? This after he was excused from the final Contempt Court hearing. Just like last time. So I'm sure sometime in January I'll get another petition to drop support and the whole process will repeat.
And the reason that he wants me to drop support? Because I won't let him see Evel. WRONG! He chose to give up his relationship with his son so he was still able to go out and get wasted with his friends. I told him that I didn't want him around Evel if he was stoned (or under the influence of whatever his drug of choice was at the moment) and I never saw him again. So if that means I said I didn't want him to be a Dad to Evel, then I guess I said it.
But I will never drop the support order, nor will I forgive the arrears. This money doesn't go to me. It goes to my son. The measly $45 a week that you are supposed to pay ($2340 a year) goes toward:
$250.00 (roughly, for school clothes/supplies)
$150.00 (roughly, for summer clothes)
$333.00 (for school lunch; $1.85 a day x 180 days = $333)
$ 75.00 (for his birthday party, on average)
$ 75.00 (for his birthday present, on average)
$200.00 (for his Christmas presents, on average)
$ 25.00 (for Easter presents, on average)
$ 10.00 (for Valentine's Day present/Valentine's for school)
$ 30.00 (for a Halloween costume and accessories, on average)
$ 50.00 (for fall school pictures)
$ 50.00 (for spring school pictures)
$100.00 (for football sign-ups and equipment)
$100.00 (for shoes, 2 pair per year average)
$260.00 (for allowance; $5 weekly x 52 weeks = $260)
$100.00 (for "random spending" such as the movies or skating with friends)
That is a grand total of $1808 for things that we KNOW he is going to need. This does not include "surprise" costs like money to participate in school functions or go on field trips and emergencies. After all of his scheduled maintenance is figured it, we're left with about $532. Divide that by 52 weeks and it gives us about $10.25 a week leftover for emergencies. I also have not had an increase (not even a cost of living increase) since 2000 when the support order was created. And yet he is able to petition me to have support dropped?
But the kicker is really that we had planned on taking Evel and a friend out to see a movie and get dinner this weekend to celebrate his birthday. Now I have to tell my son that we can't afford it but I can't tell him why because he's too young to be involved in any of this yet. How do you say to your kid, "Hey, sorry buddy but we're not going out for your birthday because your real dad is a worthless POS" without impressing that upon his opinion? I know it's not that great of an opinion to begin with but he needs to form it himself. I don't want him coming to me years down the road and accusing me of turning him against his dad. Oh then tangled webs that we weave.
I'm sure we have enough after bills that we'll wind up going out to do something to celebrate but I know he's going to be bummed. I should really know not to depend on this for anything by now. At least I got smart and bought his birthday present early when he was receiving support. It's ridiculous that I have to consider buying his summer clothes in January because he's receiving support and I don't know if it will still be there in May.
So to Evel's father, I would like to say that you are a complete waste of oxygen. You have done nothing in your life except hurt my son, even if you haven't seen him since he was three. The next time you decide to drive drunk, do us all a favor and drive your car off a bridge. At least then my son will understand why his father doesn't want to see him. I hate you for hurting my baby. May you rot in the hell that you have created for yourself here on Earth.
After he took me back to court earlier this year to have his child support order for Evel dropped (yet again) and they told him to go screw himself (yet again), he finally started paying support. This after they threatened to throw his ass in jail (yet again). So he's been paying the support (I was actually able to buy Evel's school pictures this year! Yay!) until now. A day before his son's birthday. Seriously? This after he was excused from the final Contempt Court hearing. Just like last time. So I'm sure sometime in January I'll get another petition to drop support and the whole process will repeat.
And the reason that he wants me to drop support? Because I won't let him see Evel. WRONG! He chose to give up his relationship with his son so he was still able to go out and get wasted with his friends. I told him that I didn't want him around Evel if he was stoned (or under the influence of whatever his drug of choice was at the moment) and I never saw him again. So if that means I said I didn't want him to be a Dad to Evel, then I guess I said it.
But I will never drop the support order, nor will I forgive the arrears. This money doesn't go to me. It goes to my son. The measly $45 a week that you are supposed to pay ($2340 a year) goes toward:
$250.00 (roughly, for school clothes/supplies)
$150.00 (roughly, for summer clothes)
$333.00 (for school lunch; $1.85 a day x 180 days = $333)
$ 75.00 (for his birthday party, on average)
$ 75.00 (for his birthday present, on average)
$200.00 (for his Christmas presents, on average)
$ 25.00 (for Easter presents, on average)
$ 10.00 (for Valentine's Day present/Valentine's for school)
$ 30.00 (for a Halloween costume and accessories, on average)
$ 50.00 (for fall school pictures)
$ 50.00 (for spring school pictures)
$100.00 (for football sign-ups and equipment)
$100.00 (for shoes, 2 pair per year average)
$260.00 (for allowance; $5 weekly x 52 weeks = $260)
$100.00 (for "random spending" such as the movies or skating with friends)
That is a grand total of $1808 for things that we KNOW he is going to need. This does not include "surprise" costs like money to participate in school functions or go on field trips and emergencies. After all of his scheduled maintenance is figured it, we're left with about $532. Divide that by 52 weeks and it gives us about $10.25 a week leftover for emergencies. I also have not had an increase (not even a cost of living increase) since 2000 when the support order was created. And yet he is able to petition me to have support dropped?
But the kicker is really that we had planned on taking Evel and a friend out to see a movie and get dinner this weekend to celebrate his birthday. Now I have to tell my son that we can't afford it but I can't tell him why because he's too young to be involved in any of this yet. How do you say to your kid, "Hey, sorry buddy but we're not going out for your birthday because your real dad is a worthless POS" without impressing that upon his opinion? I know it's not that great of an opinion to begin with but he needs to form it himself. I don't want him coming to me years down the road and accusing me of turning him against his dad. Oh then tangled webs that we weave.
I'm sure we have enough after bills that we'll wind up going out to do something to celebrate but I know he's going to be bummed. I should really know not to depend on this for anything by now. At least I got smart and bought his birthday present early when he was receiving support. It's ridiculous that I have to consider buying his summer clothes in January because he's receiving support and I don't know if it will still be there in May.
So to Evel's father, I would like to say that you are a complete waste of oxygen. You have done nothing in your life except hurt my son, even if you haven't seen him since he was three. The next time you decide to drive drunk, do us all a favor and drive your car off a bridge. At least then my son will understand why his father doesn't want to see him. I hate you for hurting my baby. May you rot in the hell that you have created for yourself here on Earth.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Letter's in the Mail (with UPDATE)
We officially have a lawyer. And he told us that BFBF is an idiot for even attempting this stunt with trying to move Tink out of the district without Big Daddy's approval. He also asked if she knew what "50/50 joint legal custody" meant (or if she cared). She's so fucking unreasonable, either one could be true.
So the lawyer instructed us to send her a letter or an e-mail stating that Big Daddy is contesting the move. We then have to file an emergency petition with the court to stop the move. We'll then have a court date where the judge will decide a final outcome (and hopefully tell BFBF to go suck an egg). All of this should be taking place before the date that BFBF plans to move.
I am a huge believer in karma (just call me Earl) and I am really hoping the judge throws the book at her for trying to pull a sneaky stunt like this. I've been running this through my head over and over and she really has no reason to move, other than she wants to be closer to her family. Tink will still be going to daycare so it's not like she's depending on her family to help her out with that (plus she would lose that extra child support if she's not using it to pay for daycare). I really think that the only reason is to get Tink away from the family that she has here, especially now that she has a little brother that she loves. The noose was getting a little too tight for comfort...
So we're going to do everything in our power to stop this from happening. BFBF has gone from unreasonable to out of control on her little power trip. We're not going to stop until she gets the loud and clear message that Tink has two parents (and a step-mom) that love her very much. It was a judge's decision that ordered her to spend more time with her mom, not Big Daddy's. I'm sure after all of this shit is dealt with, that will also be rectified.
UPDATE:
Big Daddy sent an email to BFBF and then filed all of the appropriate paperwork with the court in the county where we all currently reside (so we won't have the same idiot judge from the previous county of residence). $195 and a judges review later, we have been granted us a court date on 10/18 (and BFBF was planning on moving on October 9). The best part is that the judge's order to appear in court states that Tink "will not be removed from the Selinsgrove Area School District pending a custody hearing." We are to take that letter to the school and let them know that BFBF is not allowed to take Tink anywhere until I judge says she can. So that's a small step in the right direction. BFBF can't just yank Tink out of school and take her away without running it by Daddy first.
I'm not sure exactly what will go on at the hearing, though. We don't know if the judge will update the custody order to our current county or if he'll just say Tink has to continue going to this school until a later date (like over the summer) until we can really hash things out in court. That's why I'm not really a fan of these things. You never know which way it could go. But I will keep everyone posted and I'll definitely be blogging about the hearing. Wish us luck!
So the lawyer instructed us to send her a letter or an e-mail stating that Big Daddy is contesting the move. We then have to file an emergency petition with the court to stop the move. We'll then have a court date where the judge will decide a final outcome (and hopefully tell BFBF to go suck an egg). All of this should be taking place before the date that BFBF plans to move.
I am a huge believer in karma (just call me Earl) and I am really hoping the judge throws the book at her for trying to pull a sneaky stunt like this. I've been running this through my head over and over and she really has no reason to move, other than she wants to be closer to her family. Tink will still be going to daycare so it's not like she's depending on her family to help her out with that (plus she would lose that extra child support if she's not using it to pay for daycare). I really think that the only reason is to get Tink away from the family that she has here, especially now that she has a little brother that she loves. The noose was getting a little too tight for comfort...
So we're going to do everything in our power to stop this from happening. BFBF has gone from unreasonable to out of control on her little power trip. We're not going to stop until she gets the loud and clear message that Tink has two parents (and a step-mom) that love her very much. It was a judge's decision that ordered her to spend more time with her mom, not Big Daddy's. I'm sure after all of this shit is dealt with, that will also be rectified.
UPDATE:
Big Daddy sent an email to BFBF and then filed all of the appropriate paperwork with the court in the county where we all currently reside (so we won't have the same idiot judge from the previous county of residence). $195 and a judges review later, we have been granted us a court date on 10/18 (and BFBF was planning on moving on October 9). The best part is that the judge's order to appear in court states that Tink "will not be removed from the Selinsgrove Area School District pending a custody hearing." We are to take that letter to the school and let them know that BFBF is not allowed to take Tink anywhere until I judge says she can. So that's a small step in the right direction. BFBF can't just yank Tink out of school and take her away without running it by Daddy first.
I'm not sure exactly what will go on at the hearing, though. We don't know if the judge will update the custody order to our current county or if he'll just say Tink has to continue going to this school until a later date (like over the summer) until we can really hash things out in court. That's why I'm not really a fan of these things. You never know which way it could go. But I will keep everyone posted and I'll definitely be blogging about the hearing. Wish us luck!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Ding, Dong, If That Witch Ain't Dead, I'm Gonna Kill Her Myself!
Got a letter in the mail today. From BFBF (Big Fat Bitch Face, AKA Tink's mom, to those of you that are not familiar). Saying that she is moving out of this school district (about 25 miles away total) and taking Tink with her. In two fucking weeks. If we can't drive Tink AN HOUR to school (about 20 miles past their house in the opposite direction of our house) in the morning, we lose our Wednesday overnights with her so says BFBF. I had to lock my keys in my car to avoid driving to her house and tap dancing on her skull.
Who in the hell is she to just "decide" that she uproot Tink and move her away from her school and her friends? And then only give us two weeks notice on top of everything else? I know damn well she can't just decide that we lose our overnights. That's a custody order violation and I'm sure Big Daddy wouldn't hesitate to have her ass thrown in jail for contempt. I don't think she understands that they SHARE joint legal custody 50/50 over Tink. This means that they BOTH decide what is best for her in the long run. BFBF may have the 60/40 advantage on day to day decisions for Tink, but this is ridiculous.
The reasons that the letter gave as to why she "needed" to move were weak at best. It stated that she and Tink weren't happy with the school district. Hello? When she and Big Daddy divorced, she moved to this area because of HOW GREAT THE SCHOOL DISTRICT IS! This is not a district that people move out of...it is a district that people move into. And Tink is a month into first grade. No school is that horrible in first grade. All of her grades are above average so it's not like she's flunking out because of how miserable she is.
Number two on that point, Big Daddy and myself uprooted our lives and moved here so we didn't lose our overnights with Tink when she started school. I switched my son's schools (which is one of the best decisions I've ever made, by the way) so that shows that we are serious about keeping the family dynamic running smoothly for Tink. We're not yanking her out of a school where she has friends (and BFBF has stated previously that she is concerned about Tink's social skills so it's important that she goes to daycare to be around her friends instead of coming here for babysitting) and making her start over. And BFBF was the one talking about wanting to make sure that Tink had a "stable life" when she and Big Daddy split up? How in the fuck is she stable when she's moving and uprooting her child to her fourth house in two years (from her and Big Daddy's place, to her mom's, to their current house, to the future house)?
Number three, she stated that she was moving to that area because she needed support from her family and that was in Tink's best interest. So let me get this right, taking Tink away from her father so she can spend more time with BFBF's family is in her best interest? I could see how that might work if we were raging alcoholics or drug abusers but we're not. Plus Tink now has a little brother here and according to everything I've read online, the courts like to see siblings spend as much time together as possible.
Like I said, weak at best. She isn't moving closer to her job or moving to take a job that pays more and from everything that I've been told, that is the biggest reason that judges let this kind of thing occur. So we'll see. Big Daddy already called a lawyer (a vicious MF'er that's been in family law forever) and we are going to fight this until the bitter end. There is no way that this stupid woman is going to walk all over Big Daddy like that. Maybe she did it while they were married, but now he has a different support system and I will back him until we spend our very last penny keeping Tink with us as much as possible. BFBF can kiss my ass. No one hurts someone I love without repercussions (and this time we're even doing it the legal way).
So BFBF, if you ever read this I would like to tell you that you are a coward. You moved here because you didn't think Big Daddy would follow. We did. Now you're running scared again because you are so afraid that Tink might actually love her Daddy just as much as she does you (which is how it works in a healthy, functioning family...something that you've never known). I can see right through that smile that your wear to the insecurities that have shattered your self-confidence underneath. You're so afraid that now that Tink will see all of the games that you are trying to play and you're trying to keep it from happening. You fail to remember that Tink is a very smart girl and she will see it eventually. You've shot yourself in the foot more times than I can count and you are about to do it again. Think long and hard before you fuck with my family. We will see you in court.
Who in the hell is she to just "decide" that she uproot Tink and move her away from her school and her friends? And then only give us two weeks notice on top of everything else? I know damn well she can't just decide that we lose our overnights. That's a custody order violation and I'm sure Big Daddy wouldn't hesitate to have her ass thrown in jail for contempt. I don't think she understands that they SHARE joint legal custody 50/50 over Tink. This means that they BOTH decide what is best for her in the long run. BFBF may have the 60/40 advantage on day to day decisions for Tink, but this is ridiculous.
The reasons that the letter gave as to why she "needed" to move were weak at best. It stated that she and Tink weren't happy with the school district. Hello? When she and Big Daddy divorced, she moved to this area because of HOW GREAT THE SCHOOL DISTRICT IS! This is not a district that people move out of...it is a district that people move into. And Tink is a month into first grade. No school is that horrible in first grade. All of her grades are above average so it's not like she's flunking out because of how miserable she is.
Number two on that point, Big Daddy and myself uprooted our lives and moved here so we didn't lose our overnights with Tink when she started school. I switched my son's schools (which is one of the best decisions I've ever made, by the way) so that shows that we are serious about keeping the family dynamic running smoothly for Tink. We're not yanking her out of a school where she has friends (and BFBF has stated previously that she is concerned about Tink's social skills so it's important that she goes to daycare to be around her friends instead of coming here for babysitting) and making her start over. And BFBF was the one talking about wanting to make sure that Tink had a "stable life" when she and Big Daddy split up? How in the fuck is she stable when she's moving and uprooting her child to her fourth house in two years (from her and Big Daddy's place, to her mom's, to their current house, to the future house)?
Number three, she stated that she was moving to that area because she needed support from her family and that was in Tink's best interest. So let me get this right, taking Tink away from her father so she can spend more time with BFBF's family is in her best interest? I could see how that might work if we were raging alcoholics or drug abusers but we're not. Plus Tink now has a little brother here and according to everything I've read online, the courts like to see siblings spend as much time together as possible.
Like I said, weak at best. She isn't moving closer to her job or moving to take a job that pays more and from everything that I've been told, that is the biggest reason that judges let this kind of thing occur. So we'll see. Big Daddy already called a lawyer (a vicious MF'er that's been in family law forever) and we are going to fight this until the bitter end. There is no way that this stupid woman is going to walk all over Big Daddy like that. Maybe she did it while they were married, but now he has a different support system and I will back him until we spend our very last penny keeping Tink with us as much as possible. BFBF can kiss my ass. No one hurts someone I love without repercussions (and this time we're even doing it the legal way).
So BFBF, if you ever read this I would like to tell you that you are a coward. You moved here because you didn't think Big Daddy would follow. We did. Now you're running scared again because you are so afraid that Tink might actually love her Daddy just as much as she does you (which is how it works in a healthy, functioning family...something that you've never known). I can see right through that smile that your wear to the insecurities that have shattered your self-confidence underneath. You're so afraid that now that Tink will see all of the games that you are trying to play and you're trying to keep it from happening. You fail to remember that Tink is a very smart girl and she will see it eventually. You've shot yourself in the foot more times than I can count and you are about to do it again. Think long and hard before you fuck with my family. We will see you in court.
If You Don't Play the SIMS Games Religiously, You Will Never Understand
I have played the Sims games since waaaaaaaay back when Sims 1 first came out. I have owned every single expansion pack and watched our computer animated friends evolve into the Sims 2. I also owned every expansion pack and played (on average) about 8-10 hours a week (sometimes more if Evel wasn't around for the weekend). So in keeping with trends, I began playing Sims3 when it was released. I love it.
The problem is that I have all of my Sims2 games and neighborhoods still saved on my computer. With adding Sims3, it got slow. I'm talking like an old lady crossing the street slow. My old dinosaur desktop just could not handle it anymore and since Evel and Tink like to play online games, this was unacceptable. Evel couldn't get his monster truck to jump cars and Tink couldn't buy clothes for the naked bear that she built at a certain workshop.
So last night, I finally did it. I deleted all of my Sims2 games. This included the families that lived in the games. It included the family that was named after us (and the strip club that they owned) that I had played since I installed the first Sims2 game in 2007 (the strip club custom content mods came later). I was on something like the 21st generation. I swear it feels like I bonded with these little computer generated beings and I feel like I betrayed them by wiping them off of my hard drive and out of my life. It'spathetic awful.
I would find myself making decisions for them based on decisions that I would make in my life. Each generation had 3 kids and the best looking one got to be the heir or heiress to the entire family fortune. I then took an excruciating amount of time to find that person the best looking mate possible to ensure that our bloodline continued with only the best of breeding. It was awful. I am so ashamed (*sob*).
I quit playing after the last heiress to my family had 3 redheaded children (because of her friend from work visiting, me having "Lizz Love's Water Bed of Love" installed and my desire to make a sandwich while motives were set to static. Autonomous Woo-Hoo definitely backfired here). They were all ugly and I just couldn't bear to continue the family at that time. I abandoned them. Then I deleted them without even a good-bye.
But in turn, I did make my children extremely happy by doing this (even though I rarely see them because their faces are glued to the computer screen as much as mine is now). But I still have all of my discs so maybe someday when I'm bored with Sims3 and I'm feeling nostalgic, I can recreate the joy that we once shared. Or maybe I'll actually decide to get a life.
The problem is that I have all of my Sims2 games and neighborhoods still saved on my computer. With adding Sims3, it got slow. I'm talking like an old lady crossing the street slow. My old dinosaur desktop just could not handle it anymore and since Evel and Tink like to play online games, this was unacceptable. Evel couldn't get his monster truck to jump cars and Tink couldn't buy clothes for the naked bear that she built at a certain workshop.
So last night, I finally did it. I deleted all of my Sims2 games. This included the families that lived in the games. It included the family that was named after us (and the strip club that they owned) that I had played since I installed the first Sims2 game in 2007 (the strip club custom content mods came later). I was on something like the 21st generation. I swear it feels like I bonded with these little computer generated beings and I feel like I betrayed them by wiping them off of my hard drive and out of my life. It's
I would find myself making decisions for them based on decisions that I would make in my life. Each generation had 3 kids and the best looking one got to be the heir or heiress to the entire family fortune. I then took an excruciating amount of time to find that person the best looking mate possible to ensure that our bloodline continued with only the best of breeding. It was awful. I am so ashamed (*sob*).
I quit playing after the last heiress to my family had 3 redheaded children (because of her friend from work visiting, me having "Lizz Love's Water Bed of Love" installed and my desire to make a sandwich while motives were set to static. Autonomous Woo-Hoo definitely backfired here). They were all ugly and I just couldn't bear to continue the family at that time. I abandoned them. Then I deleted them without even a good-bye.
But in turn, I did make my children extremely happy by doing this (even though I rarely see them because their faces are glued to the computer screen as much as mine is now). But I still have all of my discs so maybe someday when I'm bored with Sims3 and I'm feeling nostalgic, I can recreate the joy that we once shared. Or maybe I'll actually decide to get a life.
Monday, September 20, 2010
A Little More Info on Nutt's Diagnosis
So I've been researching Nutt's diagnosis. Wow. Of all of the strange things out there that our creator could pick for my kid to have, this is one of them. Apparently this disorder is caused by missing nerves in Nutt's brain. The VI and VII cranial nerves to be exact. From what I gather in reading (and from what the neurologist told us), Nutt is only missing cranial nerve VII that controls the right side of his face. This means his paralysis is permanent. Kind of a bummer. I just wish our doctors would have fucking told us this a month ago so we knew what was going on.
But I've been meeting with Lisa from Early Intervention and she's been like an angel to us. She has pointed me in the direction of a website (www.manyfacesofmoebiussyndrome.com) that has been really useful in learning about Moebius Syndrome. There are stories from people that have been diagnosed or from the parents of kids that are diagnosed. From what I'm gathering, there's different levels of paralysis that can be caused by Moebius. Some people can't move their eyes from side to side and some people have limb deformities along with a host of other problems. Nutt seems to just have skimmed the surface.
Sigh. I guess it's time to finally admit that this won't be getting any better any time soon. From what I've read on other sites, we can have a procedure done to place little weights in Nutt's eyelid to assist him in blinking, even though our opthamologist told us not to bother (what a dick, btw. I guess he sees a lot of visits from us in the future to cover the cost of his new Jag or his wife's new boobs). Of course when someone tells me no, I'm going to insist on another opinion. And there's a pretty crazy surgery that would take nerves out of Nutt's leg (I think) and put them in his face so he could smile. That's something to look into WAAAAAAY down the road. I have a slight (slight, as in gigantic) fear of anyone slicing into my children, unless it would be to someday install mute buttons. We'll wait for him to weigh in before we commit to that.
Everything is finally starting to become a little less foggy with this whole Moebius Syndrome thing. I joined a couple of groups on Facebook and everyone seems genuinely concerned and willing to help. It's definitely helping me breathe a little easier, knowing that there are other people out there like Nutt. I felt so isolated since this is such an uncommon thing to happen. And doctors have no idea why it happens. That's the scary thing to me. I don't know if it was something that I did or if my DNA zigged when Big Daddy's zagged. Hopefully someday someone will figure it out. Maybe it will be Nutt himself!
Oh yeah, update on the Nutt! He's doing fine. As far as we can tell, there haven't been any other complications with the MS, except that after a (very) frustrating month and a half of nursing, I gave up. We would spend 20 minutes trying to get him to latch, he would nurse for 5 minutes, fall asleep and unlatch. This pissed him off so he would wake up and the whole process would repeat. Sadly, the bottle works much, much better.
He also refuses to sleep in his crib. Big shocker. I wouldn't want to sleep in there either. That mattress is hard as a frigging rock but I guess that's what you get when you spend $40 at Wal-Mart to buy one. He's been crashing in his car seat in our room. Can't say that this one is like Evel and sleeps through the night, though. He needs food. A lot of food. All the damn time. Just like daddy.
We're also having some trouble with him keeping his food down. Just like Evel. I did not sign up for this again. He's also been pretty bound up since we switched him to formula so we'll be making a doctor appointment for that. I have a feeling this kid is going to be expensive.
So that's about it. I'm going to go obsess over some more reading on MS so I can scare myself some more about everything that could possibly be wrong with Nutt.
But I've been meeting with Lisa from Early Intervention and she's been like an angel to us. She has pointed me in the direction of a website (www.manyfacesofmoebiussyndrome.com) that has been really useful in learning about Moebius Syndrome. There are stories from people that have been diagnosed or from the parents of kids that are diagnosed. From what I'm gathering, there's different levels of paralysis that can be caused by Moebius. Some people can't move their eyes from side to side and some people have limb deformities along with a host of other problems. Nutt seems to just have skimmed the surface.
Sigh. I guess it's time to finally admit that this won't be getting any better any time soon. From what I've read on other sites, we can have a procedure done to place little weights in Nutt's eyelid to assist him in blinking, even though our opthamologist told us not to bother (what a dick, btw. I guess he sees a lot of visits from us in the future to cover the cost of his new Jag or his wife's new boobs). Of course when someone tells me no, I'm going to insist on another opinion. And there's a pretty crazy surgery that would take nerves out of Nutt's leg (I think) and put them in his face so he could smile. That's something to look into WAAAAAAY down the road. I have a slight (slight, as in gigantic) fear of anyone slicing into my children, unless it would be to someday install mute buttons. We'll wait for him to weigh in before we commit to that.
Everything is finally starting to become a little less foggy with this whole Moebius Syndrome thing. I joined a couple of groups on Facebook and everyone seems genuinely concerned and willing to help. It's definitely helping me breathe a little easier, knowing that there are other people out there like Nutt. I felt so isolated since this is such an uncommon thing to happen. And doctors have no idea why it happens. That's the scary thing to me. I don't know if it was something that I did or if my DNA zigged when Big Daddy's zagged. Hopefully someday someone will figure it out. Maybe it will be Nutt himself!
Oh yeah, update on the Nutt! He's doing fine. As far as we can tell, there haven't been any other complications with the MS, except that after a (very) frustrating month and a half of nursing, I gave up. We would spend 20 minutes trying to get him to latch, he would nurse for 5 minutes, fall asleep and unlatch. This pissed him off so he would wake up and the whole process would repeat. Sadly, the bottle works much, much better.
He also refuses to sleep in his crib. Big shocker. I wouldn't want to sleep in there either. That mattress is hard as a frigging rock but I guess that's what you get when you spend $40 at Wal-Mart to buy one. He's been crashing in his car seat in our room. Can't say that this one is like Evel and sleeps through the night, though. He needs food. A lot of food. All the damn time. Just like daddy.
We're also having some trouble with him keeping his food down. Just like Evel. I did not sign up for this again. He's also been pretty bound up since we switched him to formula so we'll be making a doctor appointment for that. I have a feeling this kid is going to be expensive.
So that's about it. I'm going to go obsess over some more reading on MS so I can scare myself some more about everything that could possibly be wrong with Nutt.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
A Letter To Kitty Krueger (AKA Satan's Little Helper)
This is a repost from July 24, 2008 of a letter I wrote to the cat from hell. We rescued her after she was abandoned by her mother and nursed her back to health only to find out that her mother had obviously mated with either a vampire or Satan himself. After she got older and healthy, she was adopted by a family that owns a pottery business to be their "kiln kitty." She lives in their shop to get the field mice that are looking for warmth in the kiln room. She is currently doing well and the new family loves her (because they were smart enough not to let her into their home). Here is the ode to my experience with her:
Dear Kitty Kruger,
Before I begin, Kitty, please let me say that you are a very welcome addition to our family, but in order to keep it that way there are a few things that we must discuss.
Number one, my purse is not your bed. After numerous mornings of waking up and thinking that our house was ransacked and only my purse was robbed, I discovered you curled up and sleeping soundly in it. Although I do enjoy a good game of hide and seek as much as anyone, I think cleaning up my personal effects on a daily basis is a bit excessive. In order to avoid this, I'd like to suggest some alternatives that we've provided for your sleeping arrangements such as the couches, chairs, beds, etc. I'm sure that you will find them quite comfortable. This list of places to sleep does not include the laptop keyboard or the clean laundry. And on that note, my bras and underwear are not toys.
Next, we need to discuss your nicotine addiction. I do buy cheap cigarettes but may I suggest that if you're only going to pull them out of the pack and gnaw on them that you start buying chew. It comes in many flavors and is much more inexpensive, provided that you do not have a job. I can no longer pay for your habits. Also, I would like to know where you hid all of my lighters. They are not toys, you know. So if you would kindly return them, it would be appreciated.
And after a discussion, the dog would also appreciate it if you would please stop bullying and harassing him. He understands that someday you will be bigger than him and I am concerned that when this day comes, I will come home and find only an ear and a few rib bones laying around if this abuse does not stop. He is very fragile and already has a complex about weighing 4.5 lbs and you are not helping the situation. I fear that he is becoming suicidal because of the constant attacks. If we could please come to some type of happy medium, it would be appreciated.
Also, Kitty, I am not a scratching post. I understand that I have appendages that I move while sleeping but my toes are not a threat to my safety and do not need to be destroyed. I understand that you do not wear shoes and do not know the pain of trying to walk around with scratches on the tops and bottoms of your feet, but it is really quite uncomfortable and a bit painful at times. I know that you are only trying to protect me, but I assure you that they do belong where they are and they are no danger to me.
And the children are not lunch. I know that you have the natural instinct to stalk your prey, but they are not edible and should not be treated as such. They have been living in terror and asking if they could install trapeze swings to get from one end of the house to the other safely without a kamikaze attack that usually ends with you drawing blood from one or more of them. They are young and the scratches will probably heal without scarring but I do not want to take any chances. Please understand that they are terrified and know how to use directory assistance to find the number for the humane society. They have drawn their line in the sand. I am just the messenger.
And finally, I would like to remind you that you do have food dishes that have cat food in them at all times. They are located in the living room behind the straight back chair. The garbage can is not a buffet. Sweeping up coffee grounds multiple times in one day can become tiresome after a while and I am spending a fortune on garbage bags to replace the ones that you have shredded to pieces. And please do not try to blame it on the dog. He can't jump high enough to get into the garbage can and probably does not weigh enough to tip it over if he could.
So please take this letter into consideration and hopefully we can come to some kind of agreement that allows us all to co-exist peacefully. Something needs to change. I fear that the dog is concocting a plan of escape and that someone in the house will come down with cat scratch fever if this behavior does not stop.
Jenn
P.S. Let's also try to keep the kitty litter inside the box. It hurts my scratched and bleeding feet when I am stumbling to the kitchen for my morning coffee. Thanks.
Dear Kitty Kruger,
Before I begin, Kitty, please let me say that you are a very welcome addition to our family, but in order to keep it that way there are a few things that we must discuss.
Number one, my purse is not your bed. After numerous mornings of waking up and thinking that our house was ransacked and only my purse was robbed, I discovered you curled up and sleeping soundly in it. Although I do enjoy a good game of hide and seek as much as anyone, I think cleaning up my personal effects on a daily basis is a bit excessive. In order to avoid this, I'd like to suggest some alternatives that we've provided for your sleeping arrangements such as the couches, chairs, beds, etc. I'm sure that you will find them quite comfortable. This list of places to sleep does not include the laptop keyboard or the clean laundry. And on that note, my bras and underwear are not toys.
Next, we need to discuss your nicotine addiction. I do buy cheap cigarettes but may I suggest that if you're only going to pull them out of the pack and gnaw on them that you start buying chew. It comes in many flavors and is much more inexpensive, provided that you do not have a job. I can no longer pay for your habits. Also, I would like to know where you hid all of my lighters. They are not toys, you know. So if you would kindly return them, it would be appreciated.
And after a discussion, the dog would also appreciate it if you would please stop bullying and harassing him. He understands that someday you will be bigger than him and I am concerned that when this day comes, I will come home and find only an ear and a few rib bones laying around if this abuse does not stop. He is very fragile and already has a complex about weighing 4.5 lbs and you are not helping the situation. I fear that he is becoming suicidal because of the constant attacks. If we could please come to some type of happy medium, it would be appreciated.
Also, Kitty, I am not a scratching post. I understand that I have appendages that I move while sleeping but my toes are not a threat to my safety and do not need to be destroyed. I understand that you do not wear shoes and do not know the pain of trying to walk around with scratches on the tops and bottoms of your feet, but it is really quite uncomfortable and a bit painful at times. I know that you are only trying to protect me, but I assure you that they do belong where they are and they are no danger to me.
And the children are not lunch. I know that you have the natural instinct to stalk your prey, but they are not edible and should not be treated as such. They have been living in terror and asking if they could install trapeze swings to get from one end of the house to the other safely without a kamikaze attack that usually ends with you drawing blood from one or more of them. They are young and the scratches will probably heal without scarring but I do not want to take any chances. Please understand that they are terrified and know how to use directory assistance to find the number for the humane society. They have drawn their line in the sand. I am just the messenger.
And finally, I would like to remind you that you do have food dishes that have cat food in them at all times. They are located in the living room behind the straight back chair. The garbage can is not a buffet. Sweeping up coffee grounds multiple times in one day can become tiresome after a while and I am spending a fortune on garbage bags to replace the ones that you have shredded to pieces. And please do not try to blame it on the dog. He can't jump high enough to get into the garbage can and probably does not weigh enough to tip it over if he could.
So please take this letter into consideration and hopefully we can come to some kind of agreement that allows us all to co-exist peacefully. Something needs to change. I fear that the dog is concocting a plan of escape and that someone in the house will come down with cat scratch fever if this behavior does not stop.
Jenn
P.S. Let's also try to keep the kitty litter inside the box. It hurts my scratched and bleeding feet when I am stumbling to the kitchen for my morning coffee. Thanks.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Evel Football Update
The Seals White win again! 37-0! Woot woot! So they're still undefeated which is great. We're just trying to get Evel into the concept that "he" isn't actually winning games (Ex: Hey Nana, I won my game yesterday.), his "team" is winning games (Ex: Hey Nana, my team won our game yesterday).
But they won again! They have some tough opponents coming up so I'm hoping they stay on their winning streak. Cross your fingers and wish us some more luck, even though it's not luck that's winning these games. Go Seals White!
And as an added bonus, we got Evel's team pics. I don't even know why I bother hiding his face since you've all seen him anyway (the truth is that it gives me something to do to avoid cleaning for a little bit longer, but don't tell Big Daddy that).
Yes, the cover of S.I. would be my ultimate dream come true.
Evel trying to look like a tough guy.
But they won again! They have some tough opponents coming up so I'm hoping they stay on their winning streak. Cross your fingers and wish us some more luck, even though it's not luck that's winning these games. Go Seals White!
And as an added bonus, we got Evel's team pics. I don't even know why I bother hiding his face since you've all seen him anyway (the truth is that it gives me something to do to avoid cleaning for a little bit longer, but don't tell Big Daddy that).
Yes, the cover of S.I. would be my ultimate dream come true.
Evel trying to look like a tough guy.
Friday, September 10, 2010
It's a "No Go" With Nutt. Get the Prune Juice!
This poor little baby. He has been poked and prodded and put through so much already. I hate it.
Now we are having problems with "extreme constipation." This poor little kid screams bloody murder because he can't poop. I probably would, too. We've had him to the doctors twice for it already and now we have to take him on Tuesday to have a biopsy done on his colon to make sure all of the nerves properly formed since his doctors (yes, he has a fucking team of doctors that consult about him because of his Moebius Syndrome) aren't sure if any of his other nerves are improperly formed.
I personally thought that it was just the soy formula that we have him on (that the doctors suggested because he was spitting up all the time) and we should switch him to something easier for him to digest. Now these people have this seed planted in my head that something else could be wrong. Why do I have to love my kids so much? What is that expression? God would never give me more than I can handle, I just wish he didn't trust me with quite so much. Exactly.
So it looks like another trip to the hospital on Tuesday to find out why the food is going in but not coming out. I'll keep you posted.
UPDATE:
This biopsy was the most horrible thing that I have ever had to do in my life and if I ever find out exactly which doctors was the sadist that suggested it, I will personally punch him or her in the throat.
The doctor (who I suspect might have some form of undiagnosed, partial Moebius Syndrome because when he spoke, he didn't move the one side of his mouth and the eye on that side didn't move when he smiled) explained what he was going to have to do to get the tissue samples, which basically consisted of using something like a hole punch in my son's colon. But it shouldn't hurt too much.
I waited outside while Big Daddy stayed with the little guy because I am convinced that my children's pain receptors are directly hardwired into my tear ducts. When they cry, I cry. A lot. I thought shots were bad but they were NOTHING compared to the shrieking that I heard come out of my child during this procedure. I had to walk up the hall and cover my ears to get away from it. A nurse actually came up to me and gave me a hug to calm me down. I was beyond upset, I was fucking hysterical.
After the doc was done, it took us a half hour to get Nutt calmed down. I bawled the whole time. Thank god Big Daddy was with me because I don't think I could have driven home...I was still THAT upset by the time we got into the car. But we'll know something in a few days as to what's up with the nerves and we'll see where to go from there.
UPDATE #2:
We heard back from the doc that did Nutt's biopsy. Everything is a-okay, at least as far as his nerves being developed. He's still not pooping without help so I'm not sure where this actually got us. But the advice from the doc..."Have you tried changing his formula? Maybe to something like Allimentum so he can digest it easier?" Well, looks like a doctor suggested it so I will be getting some from the store later on and changing it ASAP. I can't take this fussy, miserable little monster much longer! Wish us luck.
UPDATE #3:
Before you let your doctor suggest a colon biopsy for your constipated child, switch his formula. It's been about a week since we put Nutt on Similac Allimentum and he's going like a champ! I do understand the "better safe than sorry" approach that these doctors are using with Nutt's diagnosis, but please, let us try the easy way out before you have another doctor go after my kid's colon with a hole punch. K? Thanks.
Now we are having problems with "extreme constipation." This poor little kid screams bloody murder because he can't poop. I probably would, too. We've had him to the doctors twice for it already and now we have to take him on Tuesday to have a biopsy done on his colon to make sure all of the nerves properly formed since his doctors (yes, he has a fucking team of doctors that consult about him because of his Moebius Syndrome) aren't sure if any of his other nerves are improperly formed.
I personally thought that it was just the soy formula that we have him on (that the doctors suggested because he was spitting up all the time) and we should switch him to something easier for him to digest. Now these people have this seed planted in my head that something else could be wrong. Why do I have to love my kids so much? What is that expression? God would never give me more than I can handle, I just wish he didn't trust me with quite so much. Exactly.
So it looks like another trip to the hospital on Tuesday to find out why the food is going in but not coming out. I'll keep you posted.
UPDATE:
This biopsy was the most horrible thing that I have ever had to do in my life and if I ever find out exactly which doctors was the sadist that suggested it, I will personally punch him or her in the throat.
The doctor (who I suspect might have some form of undiagnosed, partial Moebius Syndrome because when he spoke, he didn't move the one side of his mouth and the eye on that side didn't move when he smiled) explained what he was going to have to do to get the tissue samples, which basically consisted of using something like a hole punch in my son's colon. But it shouldn't hurt too much.
I waited outside while Big Daddy stayed with the little guy because I am convinced that my children's pain receptors are directly hardwired into my tear ducts. When they cry, I cry. A lot. I thought shots were bad but they were NOTHING compared to the shrieking that I heard come out of my child during this procedure. I had to walk up the hall and cover my ears to get away from it. A nurse actually came up to me and gave me a hug to calm me down. I was beyond upset, I was fucking hysterical.
After the doc was done, it took us a half hour to get Nutt calmed down. I bawled the whole time. Thank god Big Daddy was with me because I don't think I could have driven home...I was still THAT upset by the time we got into the car. But we'll know something in a few days as to what's up with the nerves and we'll see where to go from there.
UPDATE #2:
We heard back from the doc that did Nutt's biopsy. Everything is a-okay, at least as far as his nerves being developed. He's still not pooping without help so I'm not sure where this actually got us. But the advice from the doc..."Have you tried changing his formula? Maybe to something like Allimentum so he can digest it easier?" Well, looks like a doctor suggested it so I will be getting some from the store later on and changing it ASAP. I can't take this fussy, miserable little monster much longer! Wish us luck.
UPDATE #3:
Before you let your doctor suggest a colon biopsy for your constipated child, switch his formula. It's been about a week since we put Nutt on Similac Allimentum and he's going like a champ! I do understand the "better safe than sorry" approach that these doctors are using with Nutt's diagnosis, but please, let us try the easy way out before you have another doctor go after my kid's colon with a hole punch. K? Thanks.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Gold? In His Eyelid?
Just got home from Nutt's first appointment with the opthamologist. Can I say that I'm not a huge fan of the actual opthamologist? I like the resident opthamologist (who happened to be the same guy that we had when Nutt was born), but the regular guy is kind of a douche.
So anyway, we talked to Dr. Resident about the MRI results and about what Moebius Syndrome means for Nutt's eye. Basically, Nutt is going to have to rely completely on using drops for the rest of his life to keep his eye moist and healthy. If I was following correctly and we let the eye get dried out, it will basically just kind of give up trying to see. I'm not really sure how else to explain it. So that is priority #1 with Nutt. Keep that eye healthy.
We also discussed a surgery that can be done once Nutt is a little older that involved putting little weights that are made of gold into his eye in order to get it to close when he blinks. You can see it trying to blink now when he closes the other one and the extra weight from the gold would help it go the rest of the way. This would help him keep the eye lubricated and help him avoid being completely dependent on the drops for the rest of his life since the tear duct is formed and healthy. Awesome.
Then we met Dr. Douchebag who told us that gold weight surgery is a complete waste of time because if there's no nerve, there's not way he'll close his eye. Well, why the hell does it close when he sleeps? And why does it try to close when he blinks his other eye? So I ask Dr. Douchebag if he has any other patients with Moebius Syndrome. Nope. Just Nutt. But yet he's the "expert?" I can see that I am going to have it out with this man eventually. If there's something that can be done to help my son, I am going to do it. If it doesn't work, you can be the first person to tell me that you told me so.
Which yet again brings me back to how frustrating this whole diagnosis really is. We have two doctors with two completely different opinions. And Dr. Resident is leaving soon and sticking us with Dr. Douchebag. Can't wait.
To be continued...
So anyway, we talked to Dr. Resident about the MRI results and about what Moebius Syndrome means for Nutt's eye. Basically, Nutt is going to have to rely completely on using drops for the rest of his life to keep his eye moist and healthy. If I was following correctly and we let the eye get dried out, it will basically just kind of give up trying to see. I'm not really sure how else to explain it. So that is priority #1 with Nutt. Keep that eye healthy.
We also discussed a surgery that can be done once Nutt is a little older that involved putting little weights that are made of gold into his eye in order to get it to close when he blinks. You can see it trying to blink now when he closes the other one and the extra weight from the gold would help it go the rest of the way. This would help him keep the eye lubricated and help him avoid being completely dependent on the drops for the rest of his life since the tear duct is formed and healthy. Awesome.
Then we met Dr. Douchebag who told us that gold weight surgery is a complete waste of time because if there's no nerve, there's not way he'll close his eye. Well, why the hell does it close when he sleeps? And why does it try to close when he blinks his other eye? So I ask Dr. Douchebag if he has any other patients with Moebius Syndrome. Nope. Just Nutt. But yet he's the "expert?" I can see that I am going to have it out with this man eventually. If there's something that can be done to help my son, I am going to do it. If it doesn't work, you can be the first person to tell me that you told me so.
Which yet again brings me back to how frustrating this whole diagnosis really is. We have two doctors with two completely different opinions. And Dr. Resident is leaving soon and sticking us with Dr. Douchebag. Can't wait.
To be continued...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
My Guilty Little Pleasures
This is a repost from September 17, 2007 (obviously it's old because I was still using Myspace and drinking obnoxious amounts of Red Bull). My, my, how our views change over the years (I still love beer, though).
Hehe, here they are in no particular order. The little (tangible) things in life that really make it worth living. Mmmmm, sweet gluttony.
1. Beer. Mmmm, my sweet, sweet liquid gold. Yes, beer you make my belly tingle with just a thought of the way you trickle down my throat.
2. The O.C. Yes, one of my biggest pleasures. I love it so much but it is sooo bad for me. It's like a Big Mac with fries extra value meal, super sized, with a chocolate milk shake and a hot fudge sundae on the side. Oh, yes I am addicted to Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer. Sweet indulgence.
3. Red Bull. The Devil's Water (as some drunk guy at ABC West told me). The enchanting taste of sweet tarts that kicks my metabolism into overdrive every morning. When mixed with Jager, it doubles my pleasure (and usually my hangover).
4. Sunglasses. The bigger the better. I love the way you hide my eyes (and most of the rest of my face) on mornings after I've had too much to drink. You wrap your arms around my head in a metal (or plastic) hug and pull my hair out of my eyes while indoors. Kudos to Paris for starting the trend.
5. Digital Cameras. Thank you for allowing me the chance to retake a picture 18 times until I get it just right or letting me capture the drunken excitement of a night at our local sleaze bar. You have allowed me to forever edit out imperfections, email blackmail pictures effortlessly and delete any accidental pictures of peoples shoes or crotches.
6. My Chevy Cobalt. The perfect little car to get me to and fro and to cart my sister's ass around until she gets another car. You smell like fermenting Power Aid and cigarettes but every time I put my key in the ignition (since they changed the faulty battery), you purr to life. Even though your oil change is 4000 miles overdue, you keep on trucking, my faithful, expensive little companion.
7. My Hairdresser, Danielle. Yes, you goddess of the the scissors, you perfect my highlights and sculpt my hair into fabulous styles. You never whine or complain at the way I don't keep my 6 week appointment and let me smoke out back while I look like someone out of a horror movie while my color is processing. Thank you for making me the fashionista that I am.
8. Dive Bars. The joys of watching dancing ladies that have squeezed into their high school mini skirts and men that haven't gotten laid since high school. The smoke is so thick that I don't bring my cigarettes but drafts are on special for $1.75 (if you can find the bar through the cloud). Country music blares from the juke box and ashtrays overflow into the discount hot wings. Ahhhh, the pleasures of home.
9. Direct Connect. Oh how I love hearing a voice blaring over my work phone while I'm walking through a quiet cafe. The perfect creation for a someone that wants to talk to me, here and now. No time for voicemail, this call is urgent! Thank you Nextel for letting the world know just how important I really am by letting them hear exactly what I am talking about.
10. Myspace. My biggest, guiltiest pleasure (next to beer). You allow me to re-connect with friends from my past and deny and block cyber-stalkers. You give me power, Myspace, over my social life and dating life. You let me blog my feelings and leave snarky comments about people that I don't like for all to behold. I can chat online or hide from everyone. The possibilities are endless.
Hehe, here they are in no particular order. The little (tangible) things in life that really make it worth living. Mmmmm, sweet gluttony.
1. Beer. Mmmm, my sweet, sweet liquid gold. Yes, beer you make my belly tingle with just a thought of the way you trickle down my throat.
2. The O.C. Yes, one of my biggest pleasures. I love it so much but it is sooo bad for me. It's like a Big Mac with fries extra value meal, super sized, with a chocolate milk shake and a hot fudge sundae on the side. Oh, yes I am addicted to Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer. Sweet indulgence.
3. Red Bull. The Devil's Water (as some drunk guy at ABC West told me). The enchanting taste of sweet tarts that kicks my metabolism into overdrive every morning. When mixed with Jager, it doubles my pleasure (and usually my hangover).
4. Sunglasses. The bigger the better. I love the way you hide my eyes (and most of the rest of my face) on mornings after I've had too much to drink. You wrap your arms around my head in a metal (or plastic) hug and pull my hair out of my eyes while indoors. Kudos to Paris for starting the trend.
5. Digital Cameras. Thank you for allowing me the chance to retake a picture 18 times until I get it just right or letting me capture the drunken excitement of a night at our local sleaze bar. You have allowed me to forever edit out imperfections, email blackmail pictures effortlessly and delete any accidental pictures of peoples shoes or crotches.
6. My Chevy Cobalt. The perfect little car to get me to and fro and to cart my sister's ass around until she gets another car. You smell like fermenting Power Aid and cigarettes but every time I put my key in the ignition (since they changed the faulty battery), you purr to life. Even though your oil change is 4000 miles overdue, you keep on trucking, my faithful, expensive little companion.
7. My Hairdresser, Danielle. Yes, you goddess of the the scissors, you perfect my highlights and sculpt my hair into fabulous styles. You never whine or complain at the way I don't keep my 6 week appointment and let me smoke out back while I look like someone out of a horror movie while my color is processing. Thank you for making me the fashionista that I am.
8. Dive Bars. The joys of watching dancing ladies that have squeezed into their high school mini skirts and men that haven't gotten laid since high school. The smoke is so thick that I don't bring my cigarettes but drafts are on special for $1.75 (if you can find the bar through the cloud). Country music blares from the juke box and ashtrays overflow into the discount hot wings. Ahhhh, the pleasures of home.
9. Direct Connect. Oh how I love hearing a voice blaring over my work phone while I'm walking through a quiet cafe. The perfect creation for a someone that wants to talk to me, here and now. No time for voicemail, this call is urgent! Thank you Nextel for letting the world know just how important I really am by letting them hear exactly what I am talking about.
10. Myspace. My biggest, guiltiest pleasure (next to beer). You allow me to re-connect with friends from my past and deny and block cyber-stalkers. You give me power, Myspace, over my social life and dating life. You let me blog my feelings and leave snarky comments about people that I don't like for all to behold. I can chat online or hide from everyone. The possibilities are endless.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
The Stuff You See At Wal-Mart...
I am an avid Wal-Mart shopper. I wish I could say I had more conviction about saving the 6 year-old boy in Taiwan that sewed the soles onto my shoes from a world of poverty, but I myself am hovering somewhere around the poverty line. I need to save every penny that I have. May I rot in hell.
But sometimes I think I like shopping at Wal-Mart just to see some of the gems that come crawling out from under their rocks to buy a few more cases of ammo and a new Fry-Daddy with dual baskets. I have seen some real winners.
I've seen a man about the size of the state of Texas lose control of his bowels while trying to get out of a power scooter and into the bathroom. I have seen sweatpants of all sizes and colors being worn by people that should not be wearing sweatpants. But the one that takes the cake is the woman that I saw tonight.
I was grabbing some more wipes for Nutt and I was leaving the children's section when this winner, her two kids and her husband came sidling up (the only thing missing to complete this picture was a Blue Tick Coon Hound and a double-barrel shotgun). I could hear them before I saw them. The youngest kid was screaming and the parents were having an argument about Halloween costumes at decibel levels that exceeded the screaming toddler's.
So as I'm heading out of the section and toward the checkout, Mother of the Year suddenly stops arguing with Daddy Dumbass and yells at the screaming toddler, "Shut the f*ck up before I lay you out!" My head snapped around, the other (normal) couple in the kid's section looked and it even got the attention of the oblivious Wal-Mart employee that was stocking shelves at the time. Shut the f*ck up? To a kid that couldn't be anymore than 3 years old? I don't even think I knew what that word meant when I was three (even though my nephew did and could use it properly in a sentence).
I actually found myself too dumbfounded to even say anything to this asshole. I just gaped open-mouthed as the little boy told her that he hated her and the other little boy just stared off into space like he had been through this all before. How friggin sad is that? And when they grow up she'll wonder why they have no respect for her and have been arrested numerous times for beating their significant others.
It made me thankful that my parents loved me enough to not verbally abuse me. Oh, we got our asses smacked if we got out of line (one time in particular that I remember very clearly was at a wedding. My dad had finally had enough after one of us bit the other in the middle of the ceremony) but it was used in extreme measures as discipline, not everyday communication. Same went with Evel. I used a swat to the backside to get his attention, but never to cause him pain so he would listen the next time. I left that up to the nuns at church.
In hindsight on this whole situation, I wish I would have said something. I didn't because I had a left my baby at home with Big Daddy and with no wipes and I knew that if I opened my mouth, this would have lasted a while. It would have gone until I made the woman look like the uneducated, baby beater that she was or until she punched me and we were both escorted out in handcuffs. I just keep thinking about how awful those poor kids must have it. The two people in the world that are supposed to love you and be your safety net treat you like dirt. I hate the thought of it.
Ugh. Some people should be spayed or neutered before they have a chance to breed.
But sometimes I think I like shopping at Wal-Mart just to see some of the gems that come crawling out from under their rocks to buy a few more cases of ammo and a new Fry-Daddy with dual baskets. I have seen some real winners.
I've seen a man about the size of the state of Texas lose control of his bowels while trying to get out of a power scooter and into the bathroom. I have seen sweatpants of all sizes and colors being worn by people that should not be wearing sweatpants. But the one that takes the cake is the woman that I saw tonight.
I was grabbing some more wipes for Nutt and I was leaving the children's section when this winner, her two kids and her husband came sidling up (the only thing missing to complete this picture was a Blue Tick Coon Hound and a double-barrel shotgun). I could hear them before I saw them. The youngest kid was screaming and the parents were having an argument about Halloween costumes at decibel levels that exceeded the screaming toddler's.
So as I'm heading out of the section and toward the checkout, Mother of the Year suddenly stops arguing with Daddy Dumbass and yells at the screaming toddler, "Shut the f*ck up before I lay you out!" My head snapped around, the other (normal) couple in the kid's section looked and it even got the attention of the oblivious Wal-Mart employee that was stocking shelves at the time. Shut the f*ck up? To a kid that couldn't be anymore than 3 years old? I don't even think I knew what that word meant when I was three (even though my nephew did and could use it properly in a sentence).
I actually found myself too dumbfounded to even say anything to this asshole. I just gaped open-mouthed as the little boy told her that he hated her and the other little boy just stared off into space like he had been through this all before. How friggin sad is that? And when they grow up she'll wonder why they have no respect for her and have been arrested numerous times for beating their significant others.
It made me thankful that my parents loved me enough to not verbally abuse me. Oh, we got our asses smacked if we got out of line (one time in particular that I remember very clearly was at a wedding. My dad had finally had enough after one of us bit the other in the middle of the ceremony) but it was used in extreme measures as discipline, not everyday communication. Same went with Evel. I used a swat to the backside to get his attention, but never to cause him pain so he would listen the next time. I left that up to the nuns at church.
In hindsight on this whole situation, I wish I would have said something. I didn't because I had a left my baby at home with Big Daddy and with no wipes and I knew that if I opened my mouth, this would have lasted a while. It would have gone until I made the woman look like the uneducated, baby beater that she was or until she punched me and we were both escorted out in handcuffs. I just keep thinking about how awful those poor kids must have it. The two people in the world that are supposed to love you and be your safety net treat you like dirt. I hate the thought of it.
Ugh. Some people should be spayed or neutered before they have a chance to breed.
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