Tuesday, January 27, 2015

My Daddy Didn't Raise No Dummy (LIAR!)

Nothing makes my day more than a funny store to tell.  Except maybe a funny story to tell that happens to someone else or a funny story that isn't *annoying now, funny later*....today I only have the first.

First of all: I got a dog for the boys. I did NOT get a dog for myself. Yet I will care for this dog and try to train this dog and not kill this dog for the boys.  Because that's what moms do.

They also (mostly) try to do right by what is in their care - baby, cat, puppy, even teenagers.

With that being said, I really mother fucking hate Mondays and Tuesdays and every other weekend when the boys aren't here to help me.  But, like a good mom, the minute I can, I rush home to let the dog out and be with her on the days I have to work and can't manage any hours from home.  Like today for instance.  I went home, made a to-do list, packed the car with toys, a couple treats, a towel, a leash and said dog.  Because taking her on my errands has become somewhat a habit as often as I can.....

I start my list, ordered by route - because my daddy didn't raise no dummy. Except that he did.

Stop by chiro, pay bill
Drop water bill at Village
Dropoff prescriptions
Car wash
Gas/fill tire with air
Pick up meds

I stop.
I look at the list, I look at the dog.
I look at the list. I look at the dog.
I look out my badly salted windows and think, I have to...

I SAY, OUT LOUD "You're gonna be fine, right? I mean, I'm right here. You'll be fine, right, Gracie."

I INTERPRET her one bark back to me as "Of course I'll be ok, mom. Ima good girl."
What she MEANT was "Aw HELLZ no.  If you take me through that car wash, Ima go ballistic on your sorry ass."

My bad.

I pulled up.  I paid and tipped.  I rolled down Grace's window to let the guys oooooh and ahhhh like girls with a baby. I think "we got this."

Right up until I didn't.  I didn't *have* shit.  I had one bat shit crazy dog, one pair of smashed sunglasses, one broker charger, and one obliterated to-do list.
Piss everywhere.  HOT PISS because I always put the seat heater on for her. (Yes, I do. Shut up.) OH and a couple of car wash dudes laughing hysterically as they watched me scream in surprise and complete loss of control:


Stupid frickin' dog. What a pussy.

Owned by one pee smelling, over confident dumbass.


Just sayin'.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Dinner At the Fam's/Rie's a Dead Man


One thing I know for sure: things with my Dad, my sister, and myself are getting much funnier now that 3 of the 4 yahoos are getting ....um....adult humor?  Yes, indeed.

However, the seed and his equally smartass cousin, Itchy, have a lot to learn about when enough is enough.  I call it Life 101: Learning to Know Where the Line Is. Immediately followed by Life 102: How Not to Cross It.

It's been an ongoing challenge for the last few months with the Rie-Man.

He doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn't care, when he knows he's pushing my buttons and I am one or two pushes away from losing my cool.  And with the boys, it does take a lot for me to go ballistic.  I feel like I am more like my mom in that way: I have a *seemingly* unending amount of love, patience and understanding for them RIGHT UP UNTIL I DON'T.

Yep.  I'm good, good, good, kinda frustrated, good, good, ok that was funny, good, good, OK that isn't cool, OK no really, enough, serilously Rie...Riley....RILEY!


So as Itchy was acting up during cards, I suggested he join the same classes as Rie in learning about *LINES.*  (I am not entirely sure who is going to teach this lesson, but it WAS determined tonight that it would have to be female as both Topher and Bump openly admitted to still not knowing......)

Riley Dead Man: Why can't we just RAISE THE LINE???!!!!!! Ugh, GEEZ, it would be so much BETTER!

As I attempted to bang my head on the table, over and over, praying I would just pass out, simultaneously throwing my cards on the table, Bumpa and the rest of the room broke out in hysterics and awe at his "intelligence."

If he were so "intelligent", he wouldn't NEED THE LINE RAISED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Just sayin.'

Saturday, January 24, 2015

The Ghost on North Ave

Thursday night: Rie sees this, chaos ensues.  We drive home, creeped out, irrationally scared of our own *haunted* house, spent the evening hovering and filling our minds with self doubt -

"What if it wasn't really there?"
"Why didn't we take a picture?!"
"What if the image DOESN'T show up in a picture?"
"What if no one believes us?"
"What if it follows the ones who see him HOME?????"
"What if it's NOT a dummy, OR a trick and he is in the basement RIGHT NOW??" (Rie was WAYYY better at this than me.  Hands down.)

Yep.  We went crazy.  It took us all of 10 minutes to talk ourselves from normal(ish) to outright insane.  Kinda made good time on that if you think about it.  OR we didn't have that far to go....hunh.

"What if it's not there, mom?  No one will believe us."
"That's why we're going back.  I've already TOLD people and no one believes us.  We NEED to obtain proof we aren't insane."
Insert mean chuckling from Emerson RIGHT HERE.  Not that he lifted his head from his texting convo, no, he simply would start laughed at various intervals like an asshole.

"OK, if it's not there, Rie, we're both insane and need to go to the psych ward. Immediately."
"Ok,  good plan, mom."
"That's what I'm here for.  It won't be as bad as you think."
"Maybe we will meet some really cool people...."
"Yeah, maybe.  Maybe we'll end up running that joint.  Just remember - do NOT take anything a doctor says *will calm you down* - you don't want any of that."
"Ok. Do you think we could get a trampoline in the psych ward?"
"Totally.  Especially after we take over that joint."
"Maybe we need to go to the insane asylum."
"They don't have those really, not anymore.  We need a hospital with a psychiatric floor."
"Oh, ok....well, I don't really think we're crazy. but it sounds kind of fun anyways..."
"Well, with a trampoline and all those interesting people, YEAH, I can see how you'd think that was fun."

Approaching above house.....slowly:

Me: "Ok, Emerson.  If it's not there, or doesn't show up in pictures, we need to go directly to the psychiatric ward of the nearest hospital.  I need you to check both myself and your brother in and make sure they know we need a trampoline."

Emerson: OMG.  You TWO ARE INSANE.  Can I do it anyways, regardless?

"Ummm. no.  You should wait until you have a driver's license so you can drive yourself home...."
"Right! Good call, Mom.  You're the best."

All of the above? True story.
But we aren't insane, so we aren't getting the trampoline or any of the good drugs....*sigh* oh well.  Better luck next time....

Just sayin.