Priority Faultlines That Cause the Earthquakes of Life

Think back to when you were younger. What did you want to be? Why did you want to be that particular thing? Did you succeed in your goals or did you change your mind? What made you change your mind?

When I was 13, I wanted to be a mortician. Yep, I wanted to drain the blood from dead people and fill them with embalming fluid then fix them up and make them look pretty for their funerals. This was my long term goal that started way back in 6th grade (thanks to my school career day sending me to work with a funeral home director since I was out sick on the day that we picked our careers). It makes perfect sense since I was an odd little kid. I was the one that dug up my hamsters and gold fish months after they died just so I could see what they looked like. I used to sit awake and night and wait for a vampire to come and bite me because I thought it would be romantic (and this was before the Twilight wimps showed up and made people think that vampires were sweet. I was waiting on one of the Lost Boys to tap on my window). Yeah, I was "that kid."

So the other day, imagine my surprise when I found myself texting the Mama to share my happiness at the fact that my constipated 6 month-old baby FINALLY pooped. It made me do a double take at my life and the twisting, rocky road that got me to this point.

I had Evel when I was a senior in high school. All plans that I had of attending the Pittsburgh Institute of Mortuary Science ended with that last push that brought a screaming, pooping child that resembled Elmer Fudd into my life. My world and my priorities shifted in an instant to accommodate the new responsibility that I had created. I am still thankful for parents that helped me to support my son and gave me the opportunity to finish high school and go to tech school (even though tech school did little more than give me a 4.0 GPA to put on my resume).

I didn't have the whole college experience of joining a sorority or making the Dean's list. But I did have the experience of molding and shaping this little life so that my son could become a sarcastic, smart-ass fine, upstanding citizen. If I would have gone to college, I would have had a job that paid well. But having my son made me rich in other ways. I learned patience and how to care about someone other than myself. I learned what unconditional love is. And I also learned that when a child is being loud and obnoxious, all is well. It's when they get quiet that you should worry.

So this pointed me in the direction of working full time to support my son since D-Bag Baby Daddy wasn't in the picture. I continued this way, perfectly content in our happy life until the next (and biggest) earthquake hit my life on Mother's Day of 2007 when one of my best friends died unexpectedly.

This damned near shook the core of me to the breaking point. After he died, the recovery was like learning to breathe again. It hurt. A lot. It still does. I stumbled, I fell and I really thought about not getting back up more than once. I look back and the only thing that kept me going was Evel. I coped enough to get myself through the day so that Evel didn't lose both parents. I know there were times that I failed him and those times are forever burned into my brain as a reminder that my children are my number one priority. I can't give up because it's not just me that will be losing out. I had lost sight of my priorities and I had to figure out how to get them back.

This is another reason that I am thankful for Big Daddy. He lost his best friend in roughly the same way that I lost my best friend. It finally felt like I found someone that knew what I was going through. After two years, it felt like I was finally done gasping for air. I didn't just lean on him...he practically had to drag me along until I could walk by myself. He picked me up and dusted me off more than his fair share of times until I could see clearly again.

So in the way that history repeats itself, I found myself getting ready to have another baby. I love Evel and Tink, but I didn't plan on having anymore kids. Evel was over halfway to being legally responsible for himself and Tink was finally able to independently do most things (even though she thoroughly still enjoys the damsel in distress role). This whole pregnancy thing had me walking on shaky ground again but Big Daddy was right there with me every step of the way and I slowly relaxed into the idea of being a parent again. The earthquake stopped and (with the exception of morning sickness and my achy "pushin' muscles" that made it almost impossible to walk) my priorities came back into focus. I was almost excited.

And then came Nutt. And with Nutt came Moebius Syndrome. And down came my world. Again. I had this little, tiny baby that screamed and pooped and looked like Popeye, with his one eye wide open and the other squeezed tightly shut. And there were neurologists and opthamologists and advocates from the March of Dimes and people throwing around the word "disability." And they were there because of my son. And they poked and prodded for answers but they gave us none. They gave us a diagnosis and they gave us a prognosis but they couldn't give us much else. I was terrified.

So again my priorities shifted from raising a baby to raising a baby with a disability. A baby that requires eye drops at least once and hour. A baby that could not nurse properly because he couldn't form a seal with his mouth because the right side of his face didn't move. A baby that had to have his formula switched 5 times before he quick throwing up everything he ate. And a baby that would not, could not poop.

This brought me to the text that I sent my mom. "Yay! Nutt FINALLY pooped!" Four little words that still make me smile because it shows me how far I have come as a person. From weird kid, to angry teen, to super mom, to workaholic, to depressed drunk, to the good wife, to a stay-at-home mom that would brave an earthquake to do what she feels is best for her kids.

And now, a soon to be Adult Student. I will be applying on Monday to the local community college so that I can finally return to school to get a degree and actually have a career that will help to support my family. Sure, it's not mortuary school, but returning to school is something that I've always wanted to do. At least with nursing, if someone pisses me off, I'll have the satisfaction of giving them a shot in the ass cheek. And I will also be around doctors that I can question and probe about Moebius Syndrome until they tell me to get out of their faces. Everything seems like it has finally come full circle. I go from having a child and missing out on school to having a child and finally figuring out what I want to do with my life because of the missing answers that I got when that child was born. PEDS, here I come!

I guess good things do come to those who wait.

For the Love of Dog!

My family and I are renters. I never really minded renting before because if something breaks, I don't have to freaking fix it. I make a phone call and it's taken care of for me. It's a perfect situation for someone as lazy as I can be sometimes. I was content renting for the rest of my life until I found this:

This is Sahara. She's a Yellow Lab Retriever Mix that is available for adoption at the Lycoming County SPCA in Williamsport, PA. (<----the link to her profile. Someone please go adopt her NOW). I saw this picture and my entire bubble of irresponsible living happiness came crashing down around me.

I found this picture on Sahara's profile on Petfinder.com a few weeks ago and I've been going back to check on it every few days. I've also been riding Big Daddy like a racehorse to call our landlord and threaten beg ask him if we can get a dog. Pretty, pretty freakin please!

This is the first time that I have lived anywhere longer than a few months without a dog and at first I was hugely somewhat relieved after living with the Terrible Twosome at the Mama's house. I didn't get out of bed and step in poop or have to worry about my underwear being eaten and it was a relief. But the longer I've gone without a furry companion, the more I miss it (not the poop and underwear eating, just the companionship).

Half of the Terrible Twosome, Mr. Ears. The other half is in the background, trying to keep her face hidden so as not to be recognized in a police line up.

 I miss coming home and no matter how crappy my day was, a dog will be there to just be my friend. They're a good source of exercise, they help lower stress levels and pet owners are clinically shown to have lower blood pressure and cholesterol than non-pet owners. It's a win/win situation!

Plus I think about the kids. Evel has ALWAYS had a dog around. I never heard him complain that he was bored and he never really asked to go to his friends houses because he had a source of entertainment at home (a very tiny, evil source of entertainment that seemed to love him and only him). Tink had a dog for the first half of her life. I wasn't around for that part but she still asks if Riley (a small, male Pitt Bull Terrier) is going to ever come to live with us again. And then we have Nutt. Nutt was terrified of the Terrible Twosome (maybe justifiably) the first time he saw them. I don't want him to grow up without the experiences that he would have if we were to have a dog and I don't want him to be nervous around them because he doesn't know how they will react.

But the thing that gets me the most about this dog is that it's a Yellow Lab. I am the worlds BIGGEST sucker for Yellow Labs because for 14 years, my family had Makita.

Makita came to us on a fluke after my Brittney Spaniel (Ginger) died a day after my 12th birthday. The neighbors had this misfit rebel of a dog that they were trying to get rid of so being the sucker that Poppi is (at least where his kids are concerned), we adopted Makita.

This dog was absolute hell on paws when we first got her. She wasn't housebroken (and really had no desire to be), you couldn't open the door without her bolting outside and terrorizing the neighborhood and she chewed almost everything in our home to bits (dining room chairs, the arms to the couch, the legs on the coffee table, one of every single shoe in the house, Poppi's game football that was signed by each of his pony football players the year that he coached them to the playoffs, just to name a few things). We tried muzzling her but if the muzzle was left within her reach while it was off, she would chew that up (we went through three of them). She was hopeless.

Except this dog had Poppi in her corner. He worked and worked with her until he transformed this wild animal into a cherished, docile family companion. Trid and Evel would sit on her back and pretend they were riding a motorcycle, using her ears as handle bars and she never once showed a tooth to them. If she wanted them off, she would just kind of roll over and dump them on the floor. She was by far one of the greatest dogs that I have ever known.

But all great things must come to an end. Makita passed away in 2007 from cancer. I was thankful that I was there with her at the end but I still bawl like a baby mist up when I think about it. And that's another reason that I want my kids to know the experience of sharing their lives a pet. It will teach them about unconditional love and it will eventually teach them about loss and how to cope with it. I always said that I would never have another dog after Makita, but Evel (and his big, brown eyes and knack for begging) prevailed and we got Mr. Ears. That's his little buddy, even if he doesn't see him that often.

And I know that someday the Mama will call and tell us that Mr. Ears has passed away and Evel will find his own way to cope. Just like I did with Makita and Ginger. Just like Poppi did with Rex (the greatest German Shepherd to ever live). And just like Trid did with Buster (the spunky little Border Collie that we adopted when my parents separated temporarily that became Trid's companion). It's the downfall to pet companionship but it's a small price to pay for all of those years of happiness. And all of the wet kisses and wagging tails that make having a doggy companion TOTALLY worth it.

And since I love showing off, here are some photos of the greatest furry friends that I've ever had the pleasure of knowing:

 

The lady of the hour, Makita (AKA Mosquito). As you can see, she's a party animal. Sadly, this is the only picture that I still have of her. It's in a frame on our mantle.

The Rex-meister. This guy was Poppi's buddy. We had him for 15 great years. Such a sweet dog.

Here is Peanut (and her floppy ear). I have no idea why the Mama decided to get this spawn of Satan after Buster died. And I have no idea why she agreed to let me get a second one so they could form a pack of evil.

Mr. Ears (and I'm sure you can tell where he got the name) came to us after Makita died. He was the runt of the neighbors litter and Evel slowly wore me down until we took his hypoglycemic, scrawny butt in.

 

Here's Buster. He was an odd dog that wagged his tail up and down, couldn't run in a straight line and "smiled" when he was nervous. Go figure he wound up being Trid's buddy.

Sadly, I no longer have any pictures of Ginger after all of my moves.

I would say that is it but I have 2 more pictures. They weren't dogs, but they're sure cool enough to qualify in my book.

Yoda (AKA Fat Ass Cat Ass). This guy's been around since 1998. He's 23 lbs. of mellow and sweet and love and everything that you wish when you buy a cat.

And this is Kitty Kruger. She is everything that is opposite of Yoda. She is the devil in cat form. We keep her around just for the funny photo opps that she gives us. We rescued her after her mother abandoned her and how does she thank us? Pulls everything out of my purse and uses it for a bed. And she would eat my cigarettes when I was a smoker. And she would claw my feet while I was sleeping. Man, maybe the photo opps aren't really worth it...

Pick On Someone Your Own Size...Or Better Yet, No One At All

I love movies. I especially love the movies where the nerdy boy/girl overcomes great odds to show up the popular kids that have been making them feel like crap. Such a great concept...too bad stuff like that never usually happens here in the real world.

My little sister, Trid, is dealing with a few bullies. The worst thing about this bully is that sometimes she is a friend to Trid, then they have an argument and this girl and her posse harass my little sister constantly. It is called relational aggression and it has gotten to the point where my little sister does not like leaving the house for fear that she may run into this girl or one of her cronies. They harass her on Facebook, at school while no one is watching...any chance that they get. My little sister even sent me a text last night asking me to please tell this girl to stop.

It took me back to when I was younger and got picked on. A lot. I was teased because I was tall ("Hey look, it's the Jolly Green Giant!"), because I was fat ("Oh no, it's an earthquake! Nope, it's just Jenn.") and because I was poor ("Where do your parents shop for you? The city dump?"). I was picked on because my best friends (the Gettelbugs) were my friends and THEY were poor. I couldn't escape it. It seemed like any reason that I should be picked on was tattooed across my forehead with a big bulls eye beneath it.

(it's a long story but the follow up is after it)

I told my parents. Their advice? "Just ignore it." Really? Okay. So I became a complete recluse. I became a reader, hung out with the Gettelbugs and a handful of other kids, played with my dog. Still the bullying continued (being a reader gave them even more reasons to pick on me). Thankfully we didn't have the internet so this was confined to school and a few mean girls in my neighborhood.

I also told school administrators. I remember my first grade teacher telling me to "stop being a tattletale and figure out what I'M doing that is causing them to pick on me." Great advice to give a little kid. I had no idea what I was doing. I wracked my brain to figure it out. All that did was make me question the things about myself that I thought were okay and it completely crushed my self-esteem. Obviously if they were picking on me because of my physical self, that needed to change.

This was about the time that I hit sixth grade and went "grunge." I started listening to the Seattle bands, wearing ripped up clothes, not washing my hair...all of this in an effort to make these kids think that I was so weird that they would just leave me alone. That all backfired on me. I was tortured relentlessly because of the way that I dressed, my greasy hair (personally, I will never let any of my kids leave the house looking like I did) and my taste in music. There really was no relief. I hated everything about myself.

This is when I started cutting, way back before they even had a name for it. My 6th grade student teacher noticed it and made me go talk to the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor looked at me like I was insane. Teachers weren't trained on how to deal with stuff like that (looking back, I'm glad they didn't commit me) back then so he sent me to the nurse (who also looked at me like I was insane). She cleaned me up, told me that I'll get ugly scars if I continued and sent me back to class. Problem solved. Except that now everyone thought that I was a weirdo (well, even more of a weirdo than they did before). A girl that cuts herself? Freak! Add another reason to the list.

I just kind of floated with a few select friends throughout my days. I was missing school a lot because I didn't want to deal with the constant harassment. My mom let me stay home one day after I claimed that I was "sick" and I don't remember much about the day except crying a lot. This was the day of my suicide attempt.

I'm not going to get into all of the details because it's a time in my life that I really don't care to remember. But I think that's what it took to finally shock my parents into realizing that I was not okay. Things were more serious than I let on and I was not able to ignore the bullying. It was a very, very dark time in my life. I did not want to get out of bed, eat, shower...nothing. I really didn't care anymore.

Enter Mr. Thompson, a (different) guidance counselor at my school. I began going to talk to him during study hall and he helped me realize that I had to get through this. I talked to him the rest of my 6th grade year and slowly started to feel better about myself. When summer break hit, I was free from the threat of bullies and I was able to slowly repair my self-confidence over the next three months.

You see, something changed inside of me over those three months. I resolved that I would no longer give a damn what anyone thought about me. These kids obviously didn't care that their bullying had almost pushed me into a coffin, why in the hell should I care about them? This probably wasn't the best mentality because after the first girl called me Jolly Green Giant, I knocked her on her ass without blinking an eye. So began my life AS the bully.

I was mean, I was intolerant...I was a fucking nightmare. I would have beaten myself and locked me in my room until I was an adult if I were my parents. I was in fights all the time. I smoked, I drank. I didn't care.

I also got pregnant when I was 17. The wheels on the bus came to a screeching halt that day. I was no longer just protecting myself...I was now responsible for this little life that I was carrying around. It was like someone flipped a switch in my head and kicked me in the ass at the same time. I could spend my life letting this hatred for everything that happened to me eat away at my mind and teach my unborn child that it's okay to be a bully and that it's okay to hate...

Or I could get over myself. The choice for me was simple. I had spent entirely too much time and energy (and money to pay the fines that came along with it) being angry. I was done. I could care less about what people thought of me without punching them in the face. And that's what I did.

The whole point to that long winded story is that I look at Trid and I see her walking down the exact same path that I took. She changed suddenly last year and started wearing black eye liner and trashy clothes and hanging out with girls that did the same. She's now getting into trouble in school and fighting with my parents. I really worry that she will follow the same path that I did because of people making her feel bad about herself.

So I have been printing everything that has been said about my little sister on Facebook and keeping it, just in case we need it. I've also had Trid and my dad log all of the incidents that have happened with this group of girls to prepare for a legal battle if anything arises.

I also found out that the school district that my sister attends has a Zero Tolerance policy on bullying and I'm hoping that I can persuade my parents into taking this a little more seriously than they took my situation since the complaint to the district must be lodged by a parent or guardian (yeah, I've already tried). If the school treats it the way that they treated me when they knew something was going on, I hope that my parents get her out of there. Switch districts. I've already offered to take custody of her (even though she would HATE the way Big Daddy runs this house. No pink hair dye and black eyeliner on middle schoolers here!) just to get her away from all of it. It was one of the best decisions that I have ever made regarding Evel. He's a different kid now that he isn't being picked on every day on his 45 minute bus ride home. But something has got to give with her before it's too late. She can't do this alone.

No kid should have to go through this. I have been on both sides of the bully/victim line and I can't imagine going through it again. I just hope that Trid is stronger than I was and makes it through this unharmed. She's such a beautiful person and for me to have to sit by and watch this happen absolutely kills me. I know how I felt every single day. I just wanted to disappear into my books where everyone lived happily ever after or crawl under my desk and hide until the last bell rang. I just remember the feeling of relief that would was over me when I got off of that bus at night. Now she doesn't even have that because these girls harass her via the internet. I couldn't imagine.

And the real kicker in all of this is that the girls that are putting her through all of this are girls that call themselves her "friends." I don't know about you, but none of my friends make me feel bad about myself. If they do, then they lose the title of "friend" in my book. They become nothing to me. But to be in middle school and have these "friends" call you ugly and tell you that you're a whore and make you feel like shit every other day (and night) is a whole different ballgame. Friends are supposed to help you through stuff like this and help you nurture and grow your self-worth, not tear it to pieces. These girls are toxic and she needs to get the hell away from them before it's too late.

So I am asking you to please listen to your children. Watch for signs of depression since it's never too young for someone to make them feel bad about themselves. In the wake of all of suicides of people that have not even begun their life lately, there are places to turns. Speak to your kids teachers, administrators and even the school Superintendent if it doesn't let up. Keep logs of harassment and document anything from the internet. Please take your children seriously because it could be a matter of life or death.

Links:
For more info on bullying prevention, signs that your child may suffer from depression and other useful resources, please visit the links below:

Stop Bullying Now! (a government sponsored website)
Bullying Prevention - National Crime Prevention Council (with tips from McGruff the Crime Dog)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline - 1-800-273-TALK (general info on suicide with signs to watch for)
Child and Adolescent Mental Health Resources (from the National Institute on Mental Health)
Ellen DeGeneres' Campaign To End Bullying (various links to organizations devoted to ending bullying)
It Gets Better Project (videos from Lesbian, Gay, Bi and Transgendered people to let youth know that it does get better)
To Write Love On Her Arms (a non-profit group dedicated to helping people that are at risk for various reasons. A personal fave of mine)
The Trevor Project (created to also support LGBTQ youth that are being bullied due to their sexual orientation)
The Ophelia Project (focuses on relational aggression and how to stop it. EXACTLY what is happening to my little sister)
Relational Aggression Links (when cliques exclude a person to exert power. EXACTLY what is happening to my sister. provided by Hope House. scroll down the page and many links are listed.)

PCDR can KMFA

Ugh. I don't even know what else to say anymore. Honestly.

I had a conference with Perry County Domestic Relations this morning because Evel's deadbeat dad petitioned to have support dropped. Again. This is the third year in a row that he's done this sighting his reason as he does not see Evel (his choice, not mine). Apparently in his world, if you shun the physical responsibility of your children, you are not obligated to any financial responsibility either. It must be nice to be so delusional.

But I was yet again ordered to appear for a child support conference. PCDR is now 45 minutes to an hour away from where I live, dependent upon how fast or slow the driver in front of you can navigate Route 34. So I called and bitched. In this case, something actually went our way and I was granted a teleconference. Sweet! This means that Big Daddy wouldn't have to lose and entire days pay so I could drive an hour down there in the middle of the day, listen to the violins playing Douchebag Dad's song for an hour and then drive an hour home. I was set and ready!

Except for the part where I forgot to get all of my info together (pay stubs, taxes, insurance info). The court officer told me that it was no problem as long as I had the info in front of me, including the tax info that was locked in our safe. The safe to which the key was dangling from Big Daddy's keyring at his work...you know, the work that he didn't have to miss because I now had a teleconference? This would have been fine and dandy if our Internet was working. But instead of being able to go online and print a copy of my taxes because our Poedunk cable company can't keep their customers serviced, I had to call Big Daddy and have him drive the whole way home with the key. I normally would have just driven to get it but I was stuck at home WAITING ON THE CABLE GUY!

Thankfully, I have the best significant other in the world, who also understands that I have the short term memory of a gnat. He came home, unlocked the safe and saved the day! Or so I fucking thought until the phone rang...

At 11:30, the conference began. The court officer got me on the phone and asked me all about my life.

Was I working? No.
Why was I not working? I have a 6 month old baby to take care of and I can't afford daycare for my oldest son because his dad is a waste of oxygen.
Are you currently breastfeeding this baby? WTF? No. I didn't know that my son's eating habits were of importance to Domestic Relations.
Why am I not collecting unemployment from when Micheal's closed? Because I made roughly enough to cover the cost of gas to get there and that amount didn't qualify for unemployment.
What color underwear do you have on? Okay, she didn't ask that but I would not have been surprised.

So after she interrogated me on everything from my baby to my boobies, she tells me that she is going to try to get D-bag Dad on the line. Please hold. So I'm holding. And I'm holding. Then I held a little more. Finally she gets back on the line and tells me that he isn't answering at the number that he provided. Then it hit me. That asshole had requested a teleconference, too!

Number one, he wanted to drag me into court because I'm sure he knows that it's a massive slight inconvenience for me to drive that far and I'm sure that he was hoping I just wouldn't show up. If I don't show up, the order can be modified. Number two, HE DIDN'T ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE! Doesn't that mean that he didn't show up so this is all thrown out on it's ass?

Not in Perry County. The woman that we always get stuck dealing with goes on to tell me that she would try to get in touch with him later. Seriously? So he gets a second chance to miss a court date? I could see if this was the first time that he had slipped up or petitioned the court, but he does this every fucking year! How blind are you people?? He doesn't pay support for a year and doesn't go to jail, he misses court date, he blatantly violates court orders and you're going to get in touch with him later?

So then this woman goes on to tell me that the support order will never be dropped unless I request it or Evel is adopted by Big Daddy. This I knew. She tells me that D-bag is looking for a little bit of relief, even just $20 a week. Really? Evel only gets $45 a week from D-bag right now. I guess if D-bag needs an extra $20 a week to blow on drugs and strippers, $25 a week is a fair amount for me to use to raise a kid nowadays (be careful, I don't want anyone to slip and fall on the sarcasm that was dripping from that statement). She also tells me that pending the subpoena that was sent to his employer to verify the wage change from $10 to $8 an hour, the case will be reviewed and the amount will be adjusted accordingly and I will receive a notice in the mail about their decision.

Wh-wh-what? Apparently they are reviewing my case and his other child support case to see if they can provide him with any "relief." Relief? Where is my fucking relief? I was a single mom for a long damn time and I know what it's like to struggle. He could care less about any of his kids and they're trying to get him some relief? Give him a tube of Preparation H and bottle of Rolaids and tell him to suck it up and be a fucking man for a change. I don't even get the state minimum amount of child support and I have not asked for a raise, even a cost of living raise, since all of this was started back in 2000. How in the hell are they going to lower anything? And I was told that after they received the info from the income subpoena and figured out "where he is with his job," they would give me their decision. Where he is? That's a great fucking question. Where has he been since he abandoned his son when he was three? Where has he been instead of working to pay the child support for that same son? Where has he been instead of sitting in jail because he doesn't pay the child support? Where is he instead of on the telephone with you because he requested this fucking conference? When you figure it out lady, I hope you can fucking tell me!

And so help me god if this is because I took a year off from working to take care of a baby with a disability, I will flip my fucking lid on those people. And I'm going back to school in the fall to get a nursing degree so I don't have to depend on this piece of shit to help me take care of a child that he doesn't want anything to do with. Full time schooling is the same thing as full time employment as far as the state laws are concerned. Between all the shit that we've had to deal with from D-bag Dad and Big Fat Bitch Face, I have read the laws so many time that should be a fucking lawyer.

Basically, we're just supposed to wait and see how PCDR feels like screwing us this time. We'll receive a letter in the mail and I have 20 days to contest their decision if I don't agree with it. Unless it goes up, you're GD right I don't agree with it after all the shit this man has put us through and gotten to walk away from. He works less and less to avoid his responsibilities and doesn't care who he hurts, namely my son. I swear to god, if I saw him crossing the street while I was driving, I would hit him with my car pull over and calmly ask him what the hell his problem is. There is a hatred so vile for this man that has been brewing in my stomach for so long that I feel like I could spit acid right now.

I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself, but when you hurt my kids, it's a whole new ballgame. He's done more than enough damage by abandoning his child and my son knows what happens at Domestic Relations. He's old enough to put it together in his own head and he's realized that when he sees that letter from them in the mail, it means the man that is supposed to be nurturing and caring for him is trying to get out of the last little bit of responsibility that he has to him. I hate him this much because seeing my sons face when the letters come and hearing him call his dad by his real name and knowing that it hurts him breaks my heart into a million little pieces every damned time. And knowing that I can't do anything about it makes it that much worse.

All of this shit that we deal with when he crawls out from under his rock is like being forced onto a roller coaster that you've ridden before and knowing that it kicked your ass, but you have to get on again anyway. So now we just have to wait for this ride to come to a complete stop and see how sick it actually made us this time.

Fair Weather Fans and The Super Bowl

It's that time of year again....time to sling mud at the "fair weather" fans that cheer for a team in the Super Bowl.

People get so up in arms about their football team being in the Super Bowl. They argue that they are the biggest fan and that everyone around them is just pulling for their team (as if they actually own the team and all rights to it) because they're doing well. They're probably right. Most of the people that come out of the woodwork during Super Bowl season have no idea what team they like. They watch football once a year because they have a friend that throws a kick ass Super Bowl party and if the team they're cheering for wins, that's their favorite team. If they lose, they'll be gone in the morning faster than a tequila fueled one night stand.

But the ridiculousness of the situation has now been amplified by Facebook. I've seen 11 posts this morning saying roughly the same thing - "It sucks that my team, the Steelers, didn't win, but I'm happy for Green Bay." What? You're team didn't win but you're happy for the other guys? This isn't intramural sports where we try to teach kids not to be sore losers...this is NFL football! This is the holy grail of the season! That's the equivalent of congratulating Hitler on conquering Poland. And you call yourself a fan.

I am a Minnesota Vikings fan. I have always been a Minnesota Vikings fan. My dad is a Minnesota Vikings fan. My Grandfather was a Minnesota Vikings fan. My youngest sister is a Minnesota Vikings fan (the other on abandoned us for the Jets and I have yet to forgive her). My sons will be raised to be a Minnesota Vikings fans. It's in our blood. I threatened my father with disownership because he said he was THINKING about pulling for Green Bay to win this year ("Dad, you call yourself a fan?? You don't pull for our division rivals! What in the hell is wrong with you??"). I have cried because my Vikings have gotten eliminated (numerous times) in the playoffs and wished the plague on the team that beat them. I didn't say "Oh well, hopefully the winning teams fans will get to see their team go to the Super Bowl!" I want MY TEAM to go to the Super Bowl!

Maybe that's because Minnesota has never won a Super Bowl. EVER. Hell, they've never even been to a Super Bowl in my lifetime. They've been to Super Bowls (four in the 70's but sadly, I wasn't around until '82) and just couldn't pull the trigger. We are tied with the Denver Broncos for the most Super Bowls LOST (4). I want my team to freakin win!

So I'd like to offer a permanent home to all of you fans that can't decide which teams bandwagon to hitch a ride on. COME TO THE MINNESOTA VIKINGS! We've never won a Super Bowl so no one can hold that over your head! And for the ladies we offer a lovely selection of purple to add to your wardrobe. Sure, Baltimore can offer purple, too, but can they offer the adorable braided Helga Horns? I think not! So when you get sick of orphaning your other teams and you're looking for a permanent home, the Minnesota Vikings will be here waiting for you!

Unless we're headed to the Super Bowl. Then you can kiss our asses.

 And since I love showing off my family so much, here are some Vikings highlights:

I made this for Poppi's profile picture on Facebook. He said he wanted one that would help get him chicks. Whadda ya think?

Trid (age 11) rawkin the Moss jersey that I got her when she was 5.

Mr. and Mrs. McVikings, Mr E and myself at the Vikings/Bills game in '06

Cheering for our team with random Vikings fans at the Buffalo Bills stadium

The aforementioned "adorable braided Helga Horns" modeled by yours truly.

Me and Evel getting ready to watch our Vikings lose to New Orleans in the playoffs

Nutt wasn't even here yet and he already had his first jersey!

Evel in his purple on MSAD '11

Trid in her Moss jersey on the day I bought it for her (age 5)

 

Commercials That Make Me LOL

I really have nothing to blog about today since I am trapped in the house due to "the big one" that has hit the East Coast. Typical for the week of my birthday. So if you're stuck in the house, here are my personal Top 10 Favorite TV Commercials That Make Me LOL (plus a few extras cuz I'm bored):

This is the best commercial that has EVER been made! I should have saved it for last but I couldn't wait. Animals dressed as serial killers get me every time. There is also a variation on this commercial where the woman's leg was cut off but it was removed from TV for being to violent. Personally, I think it was more entertaining.

A pothole with a Southern accent? Love it!

The Orbitz gum Clean Mouth Test 37. I can quote it verbatum. "Who are you calling a Cootie Queen, you Lint Licker?"

People falling on treadmills always make me laugh. Bonus points for nut shots. I don't even know what this commercial was for. I think a credit card or something.

I think this one is so funny because the guy on the right reminds me of my Uncle Jase. I always find myself trying to rap this for the rest of the day and more often than not, I also find myself at a McDonald's drive-thru.

"BOO creepy foot doctor! HOORAY beer!" I love the Red Stripe Beer commercials!

Another one that makes me crack up every time. This would be something that my sister would do. And not care. 

Another one that I have remembered for years and years and I still have no idea what company it is for. I used to want to be a cat wrangler when I grew up. Instead I'm wrangling kids. 

I'm not usually a fan of talking babies, but I love the "shocked face" at the end of this one. Whoa!

This one doesn't make me LOL...it's actually kind of disturbing. But I guess if singing, harmonica playing road kill helps you sell tires, more power to you.

I just like the ending where Chris Kattan is leaving the dry cleaners. I think the Cat Wrangler Cowboys make a special guest appearance in this one.

Hehe. Mr. Silent Killer Gas Passer. 

And my personal favorite Bud Light commercial - Fire Breathing no longer available