Friday, July 27, 2012

And now my family can't show their faces in town...

Here is your warning... this post WILL piss you off if you are against improving our gun control laws and are totally cool beans with everyone being allowed to walk around with assault rifles.  I am passionately in favor of improving our laws so that we are more aware of who is buying guns, if they are stocking up enough for a small army so that could be monitored, and to prevent unstable folks from so easily getting their hands on ridiculous assault weapons that can kill large amounts of people at once.  I am not talking about hunters, I am talking about crazy town banana pants folks who can buy up all the guns and ammo they want, without it raising a red flag.  By the way, I still have to give my license to the pharmacist and have my killer sudafed purchase tracked, I have to hand over my license for silly string purchases, Target tracks me so well they know I'm pregnant before I do, and my credit card company calls if they notice I have shopped at a store that is out of my typical pattern.  Perhaps instead of "I noticed you just bought $50 worth of junk at Five Below." calls, they should be making "Hey, totally noticed you bought enough guns and ammo to wipe out North Dakota." calls.

So, again, if you disagree with any of that, just turn and leave now... I promise you it's going to get much worse.  I mean, be aware that as much as my opinion will offend you (and it will) I don't very much like your opinion either on the matter, so I guess that makes us even.  So, if you choose to read this beyond this point, it's your fault if you're angry or offended.  I have given 2 paragraphs of warning.... that is more than what comes with a gun purchase.

Onto the story... some thoughtless and insensitive individual showed up to the Batman screening in my hometown's movie theater with an unconcealed gun.  It raised a huge stink for 2 reasons.  1.  How could he be so dense after what just happened at another theater during the same movie?  The wounds are still fresh, everyone is still skittish, and he's gotta be some smartass making a point, and scaring people for no reason.  2.  The other half of everyone is so proud of this "brave citizen" for taking a weapon into a dark theater full of innocent folks who want to relax and watch a movie.  Way to exercise your "constitutional right".  This is EXACTLY what the founding fathers had in mind, and they would so totally not shit their white powdered wigs (another poor choice back in the 'founding fathers' era), if they saw the semi-automatic weapons in the hands of civilians these days.  They'd be like "Totally what we had in mind.  You should probably have an entire pile of them in your home, just in case one person may try to break into your house.  You may need several assault weapons and thousands of rounds of ammunition to protect yourself from the Hamburgler.  You just never know.  Maybe you will be like Batman and save the day!  Oh, what?  Batman doesn't shoot people?  Oh, scratch that, then."

Anywho, there was an article in the news about how the situation was handled.  (Basically, police were taken off the street where they could be WORKING to protect the city, and instead had to sit and babysit this guy "proving his point".  Wow, the town is soooo much safer with that dude and his gun around for protection.  Go ahead, rob the liquor store, drink and drive, or attack someone now, because the police are watching "Batman" and this joker.)  A friend of mine posted the article on her facebook, and I commented on her post.  Only, it was quickly pointed out to me, by my sister, that it was not HER personal post... it was the actual news... so my response went out to anyone in town following the story.  Perhaps I should have been embarrassed, but I was laughing too hard at the best and worst mistake I ever made, and my husband and I were too busy, doubled over with tears streaming down our cheeks.  Also, I didn't think I was wrong, I think I'm very right, so I was not ashamed about my message.  Plus, it was really well written for a facebook comment (thumbs up to me!), so I had to share that shit with the world.  I did remove it from the town's view, so my Mom and sister only would have to spend a few weeks dressing in disguise until the next person does something equally or more potentially mortifying than I to take the focus off of our family.  But, by popular request, I will repost my comment here.  (Thank you to my sister for copying and saving it for me before it got removed.)  PS, I really, seriously do try to refrain from talking about penises and butt cheeks (both right AND left) in the general public, and especially around gun-toting vigilantes.  Remember, God WANTED George Zimmerman to shoot up that kid.  God does NOT appreciate skittles and iced tea, so I can only imagine what he thinks of my potty mouth.  Oy vey.

Again, if you're gonna be offended by this, why are you still reading?  You have the choice, so make a good one.

Yes, we hear about people saving people with their guns everyday! Oh wait, that almost never happens. What I do hear about is people accidentally shooting themselves or family members, little kids playing with and seriously injuring or killing themselves or others, people off their rocker getting them and mass murdering innocent folks. If everyone in that DARK theater started shooting in the chaos, more people would have died. Stop defending inanimate objects whose sole purpose is to kill, and kill a lot of people. Start protecting people who would like to leave their house without being hurt. Why do you have to show off a gun anyway? Is it a "Nice gun, sorry about your penis." thing? I do NOT get it. Quit fantasizing that you'll save the day with your murder weapon. Chances are overwhelmingly that you will not & are much more in favor of them hurting an innocent human being. I tell myself Johnny Depp would so make out with me if we met, but I don't go around with a "kiss me Johnny!" t-shirt on. Not even when I'm stalking him outside of his house. That would be delusional.And, "constitutional right" my left butt cheek. That was from the time of muskets. Carry a musket & we have no problem cause I can walk away faster than you can load. The founding fathers never envisioned semiautomatic assault rifles. Plus, you're supposed to be a well organized militia to justify having them. Everyone leaves out that part. My.left.butt.cheek.

So, that is what I sent out to the whole town... with my full name and photo attached.  Sorry to my mother and sister who have to be related to me.  This is why I am not allowed to do public speaking.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

And this is why we're now selling burgers...

Alright, so I made it through the last week of building the new playroom in our basement, and then the following week preparing for and hosting an oversized birthday party for our 5 year old.  He chose the theme "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs", the movie version, so I had to make the invitations, decorations, and make up games that went along with the theme myself since the movie was out several years ago, so there is nothing pre-made to buy.  It took me many hours, but the party was great.  All the kids had a blast, especially my son.  I will have to put up some pictures of how we pulled this thing off, maybe a little later in the week. 

However, doing all these things back to back ("these things" which include painting for 26 hours, 13 straight on Saturday and 13 straight on Sunday, for example) can lead to some serious exhaustion.  I figured I'd crash and burn on Sunday and be back to kicking ass Monday morning.... however, Sunday I cleaned up from the party, briefly put my feet up, and then crashed and burned on Monday... literally.  I literally drove my car through my garage, into my house.  Oh yes, I am THAT moron who could be so stupid (or so very exhausted that her brains don't work well enough to remind her which pedal is the gas pedal vs the brake pedal).  I haven't talked about it with anyone but who needed to know until this point, mostly because I'm deeply ashamed and embarrassed, but this blog has always been my therapy.  A place where I can write for myself, and be honest about whatever crap happens to me.  Unfortunately, this time, I caused it myself. 

Yesterday I mostly cried.  Today I mostly cried, but I did find a smile or two, and even a laugh.  Last night my husband did get me to laugh, too, when he explained to our friends who could fix our car "She pulled in to the garage.  Really in."  Then the jokes about not being able to wait to get into the house to be down in the new playroom started... and so on.  Now we just explain that I turned our house into a drive through... hence the selling burgers. 

So what happened?  Well I was, indeed, exhausted.  I had even called someone earlier in the day and complained about it to them.  So, it's on record.  haha  But that mixed with waiting in a tiny, dirty waiting room with my kids for over an hour, as they slowly started to lose their mind, my one kid's lip splitting open and bleeding all over that waiting room, and my toddler rolling around on the vet's office's dirty floor, finding out our cat has 2 subluxed (halfway dislocated) wrists which will cost hundreds of dollars to fix, then topping it off with our kids squeaking squeaker toys behind my head all the way home, I was stressed beyond stress (to the point where my eye... like the sclera, the white part, started to bleed, and yes stress causes that), and all of that mixed with being nearly too tired to keep my eyes open, I rolled into the garage, and when I was in far enough, hit the brake... only it wasn't the brake.  I instantly realized my mistake and hit the REAL brake before I hit the wall, but it was too late after stomping on the gas.  So, into the trashcans I went, and into my hallway in the house one of them went.  Total mortification, very frightening and upsetting, and so sad that I broke my damn house and messed up my brand new car.  I keep thinking I'll wake up from this dream and realize it was just that I was sleeping, and that's why I was so tired and that's why terrible things were happening, it was just a nightmare.

But, luckily for us, we have good friends and family who immediately came to the rescue, and we got estimates (the car only had one small , like 2 inch, dent and several scratches that almost all buffed out), and while I did knock out some studs, they are not broken.  So they just need pushed back and the drywall fixed. 

So, if you're one of the unfortunate ones who have to know me in my real life, if I don't seem myself, or I have creepy blood-tinged vampire eyes, now you know what is going on.  I am not myself because I'm sad.  There is just not too many other ways to put that.  I am sad.  I am sad and embarrassed.  I still have no idea  how I made this mistake.  Maybe some Xanax or hard liquor would help solve that mystery... or at least make me not care about that mystery for a little while.   And, no... I had not been drinking nor had I even taken allergy medication, let alone anything else.  It was just pure, ridiculous me, being the calamity that I am.  Rest assured that you are all safe while I'm out driving on the road, unless you look like a garage.. in that case, pull over and just let me pass!  Oh, and would you like fries with that?

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

I didn't forget YOU, but I have forgotten how to count

In case it isn't obvious, I've been tied up with finishing our home renovation downstairs and preparing for my oldest son's 5th birthday party (which will be held Saturday... then I can crash on Sunday...).  We had one big rush of work done down there last week, and then I painted for, no lie, 26 hours this weekend.  I had to paint the new room and repaint the stairwell thanks to it being beat up taking construction supplies and equipment up and down.  And no matter how frequently I wake in the night with painful charlie horses (thanks to squatting for hours trying to get the trim paint perfect since I'm ridiculous), I have a million errands to run, a lot of reorganizing to do, moving furniture, redecorating, paint touch ups, party prep, cleaning, food prep and baking to do by Saturday... not to mention the presents and cake for Thursday (his actual birthday). 

But I do remember that I have a blog, and wanted to pop in and say I swear I'm not abandoning it.  I have totally forgotten how to count (which is why I'll be making my 3rd trip to the craft store for more card stock paper I need for a game I made for the party), but hopefully when I have the time to write a real blog post I will have remembered how to count.

Until then, talk amongst yourselves! 

Friday, July 6, 2012

Need a penny, take a pretzel?

Today has been a whirlwind of a day.  In summary, (you're welcome) the ENT says the baby's broken nose is healing mid-line, and does not need to be set.  The eldest child has Fourth of July Swimmers Ear, and now needs drops that he says "make everything not normal" when I put them in his ear.  My Mom lost her cat.  I went and found her lost cat.  (By "lost" I mean "hiding behind the sofa".)  So, let's get to the good part, shall we....

I took my oldest kiddo to get his hair cut after picking up his prescription.  He had a free coupon (thanks to joining the reading club at our local library), for a free Auntie Anne's pretzel.  The cashier asks me if I'd like an lemonade to go with our order, when a tweenager comes from behind us and says "Ooooh, pretzels!" and literally puts her grubby (no doubt) hand into our cup of nuggets and takes a handful and shoves them in her mouth.  (There were no obvious signs of any type of mental handicap, as that was the first thing to cross my mind.)  Her Mom simply said "Don't do that!  Sorry!", and walked off.  I stood there, speechless.  I'm assuming if she felt comfortable swiping a preschooler's grub in line at a pretzel shop, she probably wasn't the most religious when it came to personal hygiene.  Who knows where her hands were.  I looked at the cashier, who did not once suggest replacing my pretzels, which I had not paid for yet, and should have said "NEVER THE HELL MIND!" and walked away from, but I just stared at her stunned.  She asked me, again, if I wanted lemonade, and I said "Wait, what?  I'm sorry.  I'm trying to think.  What just happened?  That has never happened to me before.  I don't know what to say."  She just said "It's okay!"  WTH Auntie Anne's?!  So I, still in shock, paid for the pretzel nuggets, and took them and our free pretzel (of course, the thing I wasn't paying for wasn't felt up by Toilet-Hands MaGee).  My son, promptly grabbed a nugget, and, before I could stop him, stuffed one in his mouth.  I grabbed them, and threw half in the nearest garbage, told him not to worry I had the other pretzel to replace the contaminated ones, and that I wasn't throwing them away because he had done something wrong, but because a Mom was letting her kid touch strangers' food.

If my kid had, for some odd reason, grabbed someone's food, I would have apologized, and told the cashier to give them a new one and I'd pay for the one my kid helped themselves to.  Apparently we just live in a big pond of stupid, where parents allow kids to take things that don't belong to them, touch people's food, and slap little kids in the face, in front of Santa.  Then, they all look at YOU like you are the crazy one for being there in the first place. Or maybe I'm dreaming all of this... that makes much more sense.  See, this is why I decided to write shit down... because sometimes I just can't even tell if this is real life!

Monday, July 2, 2012

You'll never get his lucky charms, unless you just take them and run once he's put his crutches down.

Almost 5 years ago, we had a friend from Germany staying with us for a week or so.  We were all laughing and carrying on in our (then) tiny living room, when my husband decided to impersonate a leprechaun on crack and jump up in the air, click his heels together while shouting "You'll never get me lucky charms!"  I do not remember why he was doing this, and I don't think I ever figured out why he'd do it in such a small space, surrounded by baby gear for our 3 month old baby, but (as you can imagine) it didn't end well.  As he came down from his heel click, we all heard the distinct sound of a breaking bone.  My oversized leprechaun turned as white as a sheet, and quickly sat down (which was easy to do, because the room was so small, there was always a seat within butt's reach).  I looked down at his foot, and he said "You think it's broken?"  I explained to him that there were 2 choices... A. It was broken or B. His ankle was smuggling a softball.  He tried to play it off like he was okay, and was "walking" on it... though, the grimace on his face, the hobbling, and the near passing out kinda gave him away.  So, off to the hospital we went, where I so enthusiastically, and with plenty of hand gestures, told the story of how my husband was hurt.  I mean, it was obviously important for the doctors and nurses caring for him to know what had happened.  The 2 janitors, xray tech, receptionist, and a group of bored-looking patients waiting to be seen were just for my own amusement. 

Long story short, he broke his ankle,  we all heard it, he tried to deny it, but I had to carry the baby and all our groceries and packages up the staircase into our home by myself for weeks... soooooooo that happened.

Now, fast-forward to tonight.  My husband, who still thinks he's a kid (or a jacked up leprechaun... almost the same thing, just one has fancier hats), decides to jump our baby gate.  We both hear the snap, and he asks (through a clenched jaw) "Did you hear that?"  I ask him what it was, and he says "Nothing.", still through his teeth.  So he'll probably talk like he has some terrible hemorrhoids and is being forced to sit for a few weeks, but I'll let him deny his injury until it either A. Heals or B. He passes out.  Then I will probably draw a sharpie moustache on him just before he comes to and we go to the doctor.