Tuesday, December 3, 2013

If you and I have a fight God might give you a brain tumor

So, ya know what happened 3 years ago?  No, not my last blog post but close...

I was on vacation, living it up in New Orleans with my very best friends when I got an emergency call from my Mom.  They'd found a brain tumor in my brother Joey and immediately medi-flighted him to a larger city's hospital to assess the situation.  I got on a plane and headed to Missouri.

Now let me back up a bit here to give you a little history.  Joey and I were best friends while we were growing up.
Joey and me.
We were even best friends after we grew up (ok, he grew up, I'm still in the planning stages) but 3 years ago we were not friends.  I won't go into all the details but I will say that it was entirely his fault we fell out and hadn't spoken in years. Completely, 100% not my fault at all.  But who's keeping track really?

Needless to say, it was finally time to make up with Joey.  Now, if God had just said to me, "It's time to mend fences Candy (and BTW you're my favorite)."  I wouldn't have.  As many of you know, I NEVER go along easily with God's plan.  It always takes me a good swift kick in the forehead to figure things out.

OK, fast forward...
Me-  "I love you Joey."
Joey-  "I love you too Sis"
Me-  "Good luck with brain surgery."

I'm not really great with all the details but I know they took all the bad stuff out of Joey's brain and had to jumble things up in there quite a bit in the process.  We were glad he survived but we had no idea how crazy he was going to be!  There should be a pamphlet in the hospital waiting room for loved ones awaiting brain surgery patients.
100 things you don't know about your brain surgery survivor (or something along those lines)
Your loved one could at any time:
     ...believe he has been abducted by aliens.
     ...believe YOU are the alien who abducted him.
     ...think his 15 year old niece is a famous alligator wrestler.
     ...become very hostile about socks.
     ...think his nephew is in secret security military operations in Afganistan.
     ...try to get you to break him out of the hospital.
And a whole myriad of other crazy things.

One of the things Joey lost was his short-term memory.  You've seen 50 First Dates?  Or maybe you remember Dory from Finding Nemo?  THAT was Joey.  I am not kidding.  It was awesome!  Of course he knew who we all were and that he was married with kids, basic stuff, but he could NOT remember things like eating, or watching TV, or phone calls, or a MILLION other tiny little every day happenings.  The surgery also messed up his Pituitary Gland which made him think he was hungry all the time.  Since the always skinny Joey couldn't remember eating (20 minutes ago) he got fat.  So when I saw him a few months after surgery I said, "Holy cow Joey!  You're so fat!", "Joey, I can't believe you've gained so much weight!", "Are you going to be this fat forever?"  and so on to which Joey finally asked, "Sis, how many times are you going to tell me I'm fat?"  My reply?  "It doesn't matter, in 30 minutes you won't remember I called you fat anyway."  And he didn't.

This brain tumor was becoming a little bit convenient.  Of course I didn't call Joey to check up on him as often as I should have...but he had no idea.
Me-  "Hey Joey.  How are you feeling?"
Joey-  "SIS!  Hi!  I'm doing better!  I'm so glad to hear from you!"
Me (lying)-  "I just called the other day, don't you remember?"
Joey-  "Oh.  Not really.  Sorry."
Me-  "It's ok.  I forgive you."

MAYBE I shouldn't have taken advantage of Joey's situation but he's my little brother and I've been doing it his whole life.

Now, before you are all completely appalled by me wait'll I tell you what his wife did!  Lacie had bought Joey a new guitar right before his surgery for Christmas.  It was beautiful!  He loved it!  Well, a couple of months after surgery our cousin Russell was over and Lacie went to get Joey's guitar so he could show it off.  When she walked in the room with it Joey was elated!  He went on and on about how much he loved it and how nice it was so Lacie, jokingly said, "Happy Valentine's Day."  You see Joey didn't remember getting the guitar for Christmas.  He also didn't remember getting it for Valentine's Day, or Father's Day, or his birthday.  That's right.  Joey got that guitar 4 times that year and he was thrilled every single time.  

Today Joey and I are back on track.  We're friends again.  He's not crazy anymore back to normal.  He's still fat, but he's a cute fat and he remembers when I tell him he's fat.  He's a wonderful husband, a great father and most of all he's a brother again.  He's my brother again.

This is me with my siblings. Tiff, Brian, Joey and me.

Now, I don't recommend waiting until your estranged relative gets a brain tumor to straighten things out but if it does happen, lock the refrigerator.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

My kid and my hair dryer went off to college

Well, I did what so many others before me have done...I sent my kid off to college this weekend.

The 2 days before we left she was frantically packing the things she thought she might need.  Trying to fit 18 years worth of crap into 4 boxes is quite a feat.  She tossed in her deodorant, her favorite shoes, a super cute backpack, and during this packing frenzy a few questions came up.
"Mom, can I take the movie Bewitched?"  
"Of course you can take that.  Duh!  You're going to college!  College kids watch movies!"
"Mom, I'm gonna need printer paper...and a printer!"
"Don't worry, we never use the printer and they're cheap so I can get another one."
"Mom, what about the hair stuff and the contact solution?  We share that!"
"Well, that's no big deal Honey, you can take it."
"OMG Mom, I can't find that cute hat and scarf we bought last winter!  It's going to get cold up there you know?"
You mean MY cute hat and scarf that you always wear? "Ok, let me find that for you sweetie."
"Hey Mom!  I need that awesome green sweater.  Remember the one?"
"Are you talking about my awesome green sweater?  The one from Old Navy?"
"You never wear that Mom!"
(Yes I do...just not in July!)  "You're right.  I'll dig it out." (Good grief!)
"Mom!  Where are those earbuds?  The white ones?"
"Those are mine Sweetheart.  I got them at the same time I got my phone, remember?"
"Yeah but I stepped on mine and now I have none!  When's the last time you used those anyway Mom?"
(Ok, that's not really the point here.)  "Well, I may want to start using them while I run."
"Come on Mom!  You won't use them.  Where are you going to carry your phone while you're running?"
(UGH!!)  "Ok Bug.  Go ahead and take them.  They're on my desk."
And so on... 
and so on...
and so on......

When we got to her dorm bright and early Saturday morning we started to unpack her things.  We'd gotten her new bedding and towels and all kinds of other shiny new dorm stuff, but as I went through box after box I came across several familiar items.
"Bug, these are my earrings."
"I found them in my overnight bag so I thought you gave them to me."
"Well, no, but I guess you can keep them.  It's ok."      
"Hey Bug, that's my cute toiletries bag.  I take that when I travel."
"Yeah but I have to have something to take down to the showers since I don't have my own bathroom here."
"I guess you're right."      
"Beighly, you KNOW these socks are mine.  Right?"
"Mom, I have NO SOCKS AT ALL and you have like a million!"
And so on...
and so on...
and so on.....

We spent the rest of the day getting her room just right.  We went for dinner that night and then again for breakfast Sunday morning.  We said our good-byes and made a quick get-a-way before I started my bawling.  After 414 miles, 6 hours and 8,267 tears we made it back home.  Back to a home where no kids run up and down the stairs (or drive through the front door into them).  A quiet home with no stomping feet or slamming doors.  Where no one complains about what's for dinner, where there are no last minute, emergency trips to Wal-Mart at 9pm for an assignment that's due tomorrow.  A home that is much too big and much too quiet.

As I got up for work Monday morning (late from the long and emotional road trip the day before) I reached for my hair dryer...that was gone.  I looked around.  My flat iron was also missing!  AND WHERE IS MY FAVORITE CHARCOAL EYE SHADOW?
I'm going to kill her!  As soon as she comes home for Thanksgiving, I'm killing her!

The real question here is "Why am I spending all this money on college when my daughter could make a very good living in petty theft or maybe even grand larceny?"

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Don't try to be nice to me, I don't like it.

A SUPER genius artist, Roben-Marie Smith (whom I adore), posted this on Facebook today:


I love this so much and being an introvert myself, agree with almost all of it.  
The only thing I would like to add is this:
I like me in my bubble
I don't like you in my bubble

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Yes, I KNOW there's a kid duct taped to my oak tree...nosey neighbors!

Well, I did it.  I raised 2 kids.  Ok, Gordito helped, a little.  Beighly Bug (our last) just graduated from High School and although I expected a lot of bittersweet tears, none came. 
Not once.
Not even a little. 
Maybe it's because I don't really like her or maybe it's that my Dr has my crazy pill dosage set to "comatose", (possibly a combination of both), but I tend to think it has more to do with the fact that we've been completely successful with our kids and I'm just really excited to see what comes next.  The amount of stress I've had during the high school years of either one of our kids has been minimal to say the very least.  I mean they didn't sneak out of the house, drink, get high, or even have sex!  Crazy, right?  Oh, I KNOW how crazy that is because I DID ALL THOSE THINGS and MORE when I was in high school!
 [YES MOTHER, I KNOW I certainly did not raise the kids I deserved... you've told me a million times.]

Bug's high school years went something like this:

"Mom, I have to study.  I have a test."
"Do you need my help?  I AM one of the smartest people I know."
"Uh...it's Algebra."
"Oh.  Well, Algebra is stupid anyway."

"Mom, I can't have a Girl Day with you.  I have to go work."
"I just don't know why you have to work so much."
"Ummm, so I can make my own money and put gas in my own car and pay for my own phone.  I can name a million more reasons.  Why is everything so hard?"
"Well, because Honey, you're more responsible than half the adults I know and you'll never be standing in the line for free handouts.  And just so you know, it's not going to get any easier."

"Mom, why are girls such bitches?  Does it ever get better?"
"Mostly it's Eve's fault and no, it never gets better."

"Mom, I had to have a little talk with my teacher after class today because she thought giving me a B on my test was gonna fly."
Oh God..."Ok, what did you say to her?  Were you respectful?"
"YES! Gawww Mom!  I just asked her to explain why she thought my answer wasn't right and she couldn't give me a good enough reason.  We argued about it into her next class period but I refused to give in.  We both knew I had a good point.  She gave it to me."
"You do know there's nothing wrong with a B, right?"
This conversation ended with Beighly giving me the how-could-I-have-come-from-the-loins-of-someone-so-completely-ignorant look.

On the other hand Brock's high school career was more like this:

Half the High School football team was over every day after school.  This was not easy, but it was fun.  They ate a lot and they did get into a few minor bits of trouble here and there like when AJ's butt went through Brock's bedroom wall and they weren't even doing anything at all except playing video games.  Or the time they all ran in the front door to tell me "their" version of why Brock's windshield had a hole in it the exact same shape as Shawn's body because they accidentally hit him with the car.  How DO you accidentally hit your best friend with your car anyway?  (I never did get to the bottom of THAT.)  Another night they thought it would be fun to put Octavio in the trunk of a car.  At just the right moment they pulled up to a stop light where he jumped out and ran screaming down the street giving the old lady behind them a near heart attack.  Try explaining THAT to the police, "Really officer, the black boy in the trunk is a good friend of theirs!  They were just playing."  And there was that time they set off a bomb caused a small chemical reaction in the pond down at the park and this Nazi-idiot, Rodney, pulled a gun on them.  (We know his name was Rodney as he had it tattooed across his chest...you must be expecting to die a horrible death with your body discovered separately from your head to feel the need to have your name put permanently on your chest.)  And I can never forget this phone call:

"Mrs. Brintnall, there's a boy duct taped to the tree in your front yard."
Me calling Brock, "Bubby, is one of the boys tied to the tree in the front yard?"
"No.  Not really.  I mean we kinda duct taped Daniel to the tree though."
"Ok, I kinda need for you to get him loose before the police show up...again."

All in all, I'd say we raised pretty normal, well adjusted kids.  And by "we" I mean mostly me because let's be honest...who really keeps Dad from killing them anyway?

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

...and the World's Best Auntie Award goes to......................

I'm not a grandmother.  THANK GOD I'm not a grandmother but I AM an Auntie.  I have 5 nieces and 9 nephews and I'll be the first to say I'm the COOLEST AUNT EVER!  I let my nieces and nephews have and do whatever they want when they're with me.  I look at it like I'm getting back at my siblings in a strange kind of way.  Like we're playing an awesome game of LIFE and I'm in the lead.  Let's be honest, they should all be VERY used to this by now.

I've said the craziest things to every one of my nieces and nephews at some point.  I actually remember a Christmas gathering at my in-laws where I told my nephew Stephen that I'd give him a dollar if he could find me some vodka for my lemonade.  At the time he had NO idea what Vodka was but to think that he probably asked his parents on their way home about it (or even better, his grandma) just cracks me up!
Another time I told my nephews Miah and Austin that grandma said they could get into the cookies before we ate.  Bahahaaaahaha!!  My mom was so pissed at them so then their mom got pissed at them.  Everyone was yelling and while their mom was dragging one (Austin) to the bathroom to get his butt busted I fessed up and said I told them they could have the cookies.  I mean it's not World War III people!  It's just cookies!  If they're at my house I'll let them have the damn cookies instead of their dinner because I think we need a lot more fun in this world...and because I can.

This brings me to a recent visit from my nieces.  To protect their privacy we'll call them Micky and Maddy instead of MacKenzie and Madison.  I taught them all kinds of fun stuff like Road Rage and Revenge!  On our way to Bug's graduation some TOTAL JACKASS cut in front of a HUGE line of waiting cars and got in front of us so I did what any crazy auntie does and called Uncle John who was a few cars ahead of us.  I told him the whole ugly story and about what a big jerk this guy was and then asked him to please pull out in front of Mr Jerkface Line-Cutter...AND HE DID!  Hahhahahahah!  It was the BEST!  The Jackass car people were honking and yelling and we were laughing and laughing!  You see? You have to teach your own kids to be merciful and to forgive others but you don't have to teach your nieces and nephews any of that crap!  That's what they have parents for!

When Micky and Maddy got home from their super awesome visit they got some horrible news.  Their parents split up after 15 or 16 years or something.  I was so saddened by this news and for them that I waited a day or two then texted each of them individually to see how they were handling it.
Here's how that went with the first niece (my texts are in green hers are pink):

I felt like that went well so I checked on the other one:
 I went on to tell them that they could probably guilt their mom into another trip down to the beach before school starts if they play their cards right.  I'm hoping to see them again sometime in July.  As for my other nieces and nephews? I can't wait to see every single one of them.  They're all a little older now so trouble is a lot easier to find...especially with an Auntie like me!

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Don't accidentally text sexual references to your kids instead of your husband

Recently Gordito ordered a new surround sound system for our living room.  He was so excited about this that when it came via UPS I called him to let him know it was here.  He proceeded to beg me to hook the whole completely complicated system up so it would be ready to go when he walked in from work.
Surround Sound is not something women get excited about, especially not this woman.  I get excited about way better stuff like online art classes!  As a matter of fact, later that very day one of my favorite artists had opened registration for her upcoming class so I sent Gordito this text message:

(My texts are green, his are pink)

Now, I don't usually say these kinds of things to him and I realize it's a bit crude which is why he thought it was so funny!  I then decided to call Brock (my "genius about all things electronic" son) so he could walk me through the process of setting up the stupid surround sound.  He talked me through the whole thing and before long I had the system ready to go.  I was soooo proud of myself that I decided to text Gordito and tell him, in my completely hilarious way of course...
...only I didn't text this to Gordito, I accidentally texted it to Brock. 
So poor Bubby, innocently sitting in his apartment probably playing some video game gets this text message FROM HIS MOTHER!
OMG!  There are just some things your kids shouldn't hear their parents say.  We laughed pretty hard about this whole thing but the moral of the story is:  Being funny has a price.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

God crushed my dreams so that you could live.

I dream of Jeannie.  No, I mean I REALLY DO dream of Jeannie.  I am the biggest I Dream of Jeannie fan ever, ever, ever!  I have a picture of her (Barbara Eden in costume) right above my dressing table so I can see her every morning.

I have 2 Jeannie bottles.  You know?  The old whiskey bottles from the 60's they used for the show.

I couldn't find a pic of my bottles and it's too late to go sneaking around the house trying to take a pic of them.

I tried to talk Bug, my daughter, into dressing up as Jeannie almost every single year for Halloween and succeeded three times (although I could only find pics of 2) and the last time I talked her best friend Sammi into it as well!
Doesn't she seem so happy about her costume?

They are appropriately costumed as "nice" Jeannie and Evil Jeannie

In the show Jeannie had a dog that wasn't on very often.  He was some sort of Yorkie-mix and his name was Djin-Djin.  Because of this I wanted a Yorkie so badly that I grew up (well, I got older) and found one through a friend 6 years ago.  Her name?  Gin-Gin.  Different spelling, same pronunciation.  I LOVED Gin-Gin so much that...well, let me try to shorten this part of the story a bit by showing the whole family of three.  Major Nelson, Jeannie and Gin-Gin (Sookie is just visiting).
Major Nelson, Jeannie, visitor Sookie, Gin-Gin

If some of you are not very familiar with the show I forgive you.  If you've never heard of it I want you to leave my blog and never come back.

Ok, this brings me to my childhood prayers.  My Aunt Linda took me to church.  I didn't know much about all that weird stuff happening in church, but I DID hear the Pastor say that if you prayed, God would grant your wishes.  Ok, I know NOW that wasn't exactly the way he put it but after reading about my Jeannie obsession you can understand why that's exactly what I heard.  I remember asking my Aunt Linda after church if God gave us what we asked for and she said, "Most definitely!", so Yippppeeeee!!!! tomorrow I was going to wake up and be a genie!

I prayed that night.  I squeezed my eyes shut and said, "God, tomorrow when I wake up I wanna be a genie."  When I woke up the next morning I immediately started trying to BLINK some things around in my room.
Nothing happened.
What?  How could this be?
I continued to pray that prayer for some time afterward and I was NEVER a genie when I woke up!  So I asked my Aunt Linda again why God didn't always give us the stuff we prayed for.  I can't remember her exact words (she had no idea I was trying to become a genie) but I'm sure she told me all about God's will and about when we ask for certain things we aren't always ready for them and something else about prayers not being selfish.  Ohhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!  Ok, I got this.

"Dear God, I really want to be a genie.  If you make me a genie I promise never to use my powers for evil and I will always help people.  I'm SURE I'm old enough to handle genie powers and I've thought about this a LOT so please let me be a genie when I wake up.  Amen"

That didn't do the trick either.  I prayed that very prayer so many times that it's burned into my brain.  I wanted so badly to be a genie!  I thought about it all the time.  I wanted to help people so why wasn't God just granting my wish?  Ugh!!!

It wasn't until very recently that I realized just how wise God is.  You see?  God knows that's not something I could handle in the least.  Not even a little, tiny bit.

Because if I were a genie:

I would have my own lane on the highway and I wouldn't have to share with anyone!
I would have a Hobby Lobby in my garage.
Child molesters would have blue skin and no penises.
Churches would all burn down.
My brothers would both have a third eye and be covered in warts or feathers or both.
Women probably wouldn't be allowed to drive.
My mom would've been even MORE lenient (and for those of you who know me I'm sure you're trying to imagine me without the small amount of discipline I DID have)
My sister Tiff would've been in a constant state of Asthma attack...or mute.
Guys in my high school would've had periods.
Cigarettes would be illegal.  Gross!
My poor ex-husband would be living as a woman.
My neighbors house would've been lifted right out of the ground by a tornado and sent to Oz (without the shoes).
Clowns would all burst into flame.
I'd be the Queen of America...by America I mean Texas because who really cares about all those other states anyway?
Men would not be able to grow mullets.
Those stupid Sister Wives would have to say what they REALLY think about each other on TV. (in all fairness I've never seen the show, I just have an uncanny ability to immediately recognize freaks)
The girl who goes to school with my daughter and is mean to her would weigh 622 pounds.
White stuff such as sour cream, cream cheese, mayo, dressing, and chip dip would all be on the black market like moonshine once was.
There would be several people struck by lightning every day.  Cashiers, postmen, idiots who can't park between the yellow lines, teachers, doctors, waitresses, EVERYONE IN HOLLYWOOD...

...so, do you see?  Do you see why God didn't turn me into a genie?  You'd all be dead, that's why.  So if I were you I'd say a little thank you prayer tonight.  Maybe something like this, "Hey God (or Universe for all my freak, weirdo non-believing friends who are still in denial despite having found themselves alive even after reading this post), thanks for crushing all of Candy's childhood dreams so that I may live another day to cut her off in traffic or go through the 10 items or less line with 16 items.  Amen"

Monday, May 20, 2013

If this post pisses you off enough to do your own research, I count that as a win.

I love Jesus.  I don't mean the dude with the neck tattoo working at the taco stand but THE Jesus.  I have a lot of friends who are non-believers so I'm not one to tell them what they're doing "wrong" everyday.  We have Christians* for that.  You know?  Christians?  Those people who spend an hour at church every Sunday and also work in the nursery?  The ones who know absolutely EVERYTHING there is to know about God...including what He's thinking and feeling at all times.  They are very quick to let you know that God is most definitely not a Democrat and by NO MEANS liberal in any way at all.  They know you should go to church.  They know how often you should go to church.  They even know exactly how much money you should give the church. As a matter of fact, if you have a friend like this there's no reason to read the Bible for yourself as they are more than willing to give you their favorite parts as a way to live YOUR life.  (*not all Christians are psycho...just most of them)

Do I believe in God?
Oh yeah I do!  He's shown up for me so many times I couldn't even begin to list them.

Do I believe in church?
No.  I don't.
--Ok, I don't think the following rant applies to the 100 year old church on the corner with 22 members (for whatever good that is doing) so let me try again.--
Do I believe in church? 
I don't believe in Mega Church...or modern church if you will.

 I know "church" is mentioned in the Bible and that many people believe today's church is that very thing.  I do not.  Why?  I've seen church.  I've seen church from the inside and it's ugly.  Church is a business.  It's purpose, like any business, is to thrive.  It is meant to be profitable.  This is why the pastor (wearing the typical "hip pastor" uniform of ripped blue jeans and an untucked button-up shirt) stands on stage urging you all to bring someone with you next Sunday.  Someone from work or parents from your kid's school.  This man, telling us we are to go out and make a difference in the world and in the lives of those around us, probably 1) sends his kids to private christian school, 2) has a wife who does not work but has regular lunches for the women's ministry (while her Christian nanny and God-fearing housekeeper take care of her home), and 3) himself hangs out with other pastors all day.  So when he says "go out into the world" he really just means YOU and your family, not he and his.

The next week he is telling you to "up" your giving because the church needs a bigger building.  He'll tell you that God has given him a vision and that it's going to take all of you to make that vision a reality.  Doesn't anyone ever wonder why God only trusts His vision to the pastoral staff?  If it's God's vision why didn't we ALL wake up with it this morning?  After a really good sermon you all start to believe this is what God wants from you. A good pastor is a good salesman and while you are all digging in your purses trying to figure out a way to give another hundred dollars to your church, your pastor is off with his family on his second trip to Disney this year.

What is my purpose here?  To bring the church crashing to the ground?  Not exactly.  I DO believe that despite our own agendas in church today, God is actually able to get in there and change some lives but my wish is for people to start listening to God and not just their pastors.  Now, I don't think all pastors fall into the completely judgmental, stereotyping I have given here.  Some of them have a heart for Jesus and for people and even though I still may not agree with everything they are doing, I can appreciate that they are doing it with their hearts in the right place and for (what they believe to be) the right reasons. Does this make it OK?  Church for profit?  No.  I can only pray for those I believe to be misguided and hope those who disagree with me will offer the same courtesy.

If you really DO believe God is leading you to give a hundred dollars why not find someone to give it to?
Someone "unworthy".
The Atheist who just lost his job.
The stripper who's struggling through a divorce trying to raise 3 kids.
The unwed teen at your daughters high school.
The homosexual who is paying his own way through college.
The reason it's hard for us to help these people is because we honestly believe we are better than they are.  We believe we are living our lives the "right" way therefore they deserve their situation.  My prayer is that you ask what God would have you do.  That's all.  Just ask Him.  He will make it very clear to you.

In the mean time, God told me that He wants you to give me a hundred dollars so email me and I'll send you my PayPal information.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

The left lane is for passing only...or for sports cars, but only because they're usually passing.

I am a road-rager!
If you'll notice, the angry man in the picture IS driving a convertible BMW.  Coincidence?

Every single time I leave the house, regardless of my destination, I'm going for a record time.  I need to be the fastest person to have ever gotten from St Timothy Street to Wal-Mart or the post office.  I treat every single adventure out of the house like a qualifying lap for Talladega.

Now to be fast, one must be aggressive.  By aggressive I mean I am definitely NOT the person you want driving a bus full of 1st graders to a field trip or, worse yet, your grandparents to their Cardiology appointment.

So in my NEED for SPEED I sometimes get thoroughly worked up over some idiot who pulls out into traffic then proceeds to go 5 miles under the speed limit.  Or the stupid woman who's swerving on and off the shoulder because she's trying to add Sweet N Low to her coffee, apply mascara, and get the right Pandora station on the radio all at the same time!  I tend to become completely over-the-top enraged when some stupid ass is putting along slowly in the passing lane (to clarify, people in Texas don't know what a "passing lane" is therefore every driver in Corpus Christi is a stupid ass).

This brings me to my trip to work yesterday morning...

As USUAL, I left the house 5 minutes behind schedule so to make it up I hit the gas pedal.  I was bopping along at my very typical 80 MPH when I came upon a huge cluster of traffic on the freeway.  Ugh!  What now?  No doubt it's some stupid ass WOMAN putting her mascara on IN the passing lane going 5 miles UNDER the speed limit!  After darting in and out of the 3 lanes of cars I spotted the problem up ahead.  A police car driving along leisurely IN THE PASSING LANE!!!!!!

[I forgot to add that one of my really BIG pet peeves is people who are afraid to pass the cop on the road!  I've seen cops driving under the speed limit and no one will pass them.  REALLY?  Cops are just people, they're like you and me but with guns....oh wait....we're in Texas.  Ok, cops are just like you and me!]

Well, I decided I'm going to pass them all and so I did.  I passed them going about 70 and then jumped over into the passing lane to continue on my merry way.  So I got my Pandora right where I wanted it and went to check my mascara in the mirror when I noticed the cop had sped up and is practically on top of my bumper!

        !!!!!!!!ENGAGE ROAD RAGE!!!!!!!!!

I immediately threw up both hands in a "Really?  You're riding my bumper?" gesture!  As I was yelling my obscenities to this person responsible for keeping our roadways safe, I saw that he was PISSED as well.
Oh good!  A fight!  I LOVE a good road fight!
So I was yelling at him and he was yelling at me until he decided he could see me better if he got up beside me.  At this point, we were both flying down the freeway, stacked full of rush hour traffic with him pointing his finger at me saying God knows what!  That's when it happened.  That's when I snapped.  I pointed my finger at him and I said "**** ***". {Ok, I can't really say exactly what I said here because the rule for my blog is if I wouldn't say it to my kids or my mom then it won't go on the blog (Yes, I know, I'm pretty open with my mom and my kids but they're ALL grown-ups) and yes, I know that should probably be more of a "whole life" rule and not just a "blog" rule but it's not.}

Ok....where were we?  Oh yeah...
Well, the officer  seemed to be such an expert lip-reader that I thought for a moment he might even be deaf.  This only fueled his fury and at this point he rolled his window down to continue yelling at me.  I'd had enough.  Although I do enjoy a little roadway altercation now and then, this guy had gone too far.  So I picked up my phone, glanced at his unit number and proceeded to call it in.
When he realized what I was doing he got behind me and flipped on the lights.  (That was pretty smart if you ask me because if some chick is calling in to complain about you and you've got her pulled over she's more likely going to be the one to look like a psycho)  I obviously pulled over, not only because my days of trying to out run the police are in the past, but because I could not wait to tell this guy what I thought about him!
It took him F-----O-----R------E------V------E-----R  to get out of his car as I now realize he was trying to compose himself.

 He walked up and told me so very nicely that he was only trying to get my attention so that I would slow down.  So I let him have it.  Both barrels!  "Really?  That's how you get a motorists attention?  By riding their ass then pulling up beside them and yelling at them?  Distracting me from the road does not seem like the safest thing to do.  No.  You were furious and letting me have it.  That's what happened back there."  He responded very calmly with, "No, I wasn't angry at all.  You were just going too fast.  You were doing 68..."  I cut him off here, "68?  Are you trying to tell me you pulled me over for going 68 in a 65!!??  Unbelievable!  The truth is you pulled me over because you saw that I was about to call in over your harassment!  I believe you're an arrogant jack-ass who got pissed off because someone had the nerve to pass you.  I believe you wear that uniform thinking it gives you a right to be an asshole whenever you want to whomever you want.  I'm NOT going to sit here and get a lecture from you about my driving... not after seeing your driving!  You either cite me or let me go."
He asked for my license and insurance.  Took it back to his car.  Brought it back to me and said, "I'd like to apologize.  I believe this was all just a misunderstanding.  Drive safely."  When I didn't give the obligatory thank you he said, "Your insurance card expired on the 3rd.  Have a good day."  and he walked away.

DAMN IT!!!  Damn you insurance card!!!!  Yeah, I didn't get a ticket but in a situation like that you want to be right, 100% right!  I was in the right and I knew it but why did my insurance card have to be a week overdue?!!!!!!
Oh, I know why.  I know it because I'm so familiar with the feel of God's foot to my forehead.  More often than not, when I get my smug, you screwed up and I didn't attitude God has to kick me back into my place to remind me that no one is perfect... not even me.  I'm just really freakin' close.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

I'm sure I'm a bigger hypocrite than you

Do you have a Jesus fish on your car?  What could be better?  I KNOW... a whole fish family!

I heard a guy say once that if you have an Ichthus on the back of your car you should also have one on the dash to remind yourself of what you're displaying to the world.  I for one would NEVER disgrace God by displaying a fish on my car (I have a million other ways I prefer to do that).  Do you know how many times I screw up every day?  And don't give me that, "We're all human.", "Only Jesus is perfect." crap either because the guy behind you at Chick-Fil-A who is a throw-it-in-your-face Atheist sees your stupid kid throw their straw wrapper out the window and now has ANOTHER reason to hate Christians and even worse, Jesus.

So basically another person is going to Hell because you have that stupid fish on your car.


This is sometimes how my morning goes: 
I'm flying like mad down SPID (because I'm always late for work).  I'm jamming to my Disciple, hard core Jesus music, screaming his praises at the top of my lungs when invariably some jack ass cuts me off!  That's when I've been known to go zipping around him with my middle finger flying high out of the top of the car while never missing a beat.  Yep!  That's me... a very literal example of James 3:9-With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God's likeness. 

But do you know what?  While I may be pissing someone off and being the poorest example of what I should be, I DON'T have a Jesus fish on my car.  In my mind this means that all 212 people I pass every morning only think I'm a bitch and are not blaming God for my horrid behavior.  See why this is better?  It's because we are ALL hypocrites and by we I mostly mean all of you.  I've heard every single Christian out there state this same thing, "We all fall short of the glory of God" to which I say, "No shit!  That's why non-believers hate us.  Duh!"   Let's not give them any MORE reasons!

So the moral of this story is:  Take that Ichthus off the back of your car and put it on your dash or better yet, your bathroom mirror.  You shouldn't be openly walking around displaying your hypocritedness so that all those Christian-haters have something else to blame on Jesus.  

And as for me.....
Biggest hypocrite of all.

Monday, April 29, 2013

The Tooth Fairy? How about the Menstral Fairy

I was just sitting here thinking about all those fairy tales full of rainbows and glitter. You know?  Like the Easter Bunny who brings you a whole basket full of chocolate only to have your parents dole it out sparingly as they see fit.  Leave it to my mom to take all the joy out of a good ole traditional egg hunt to celebrate the risen Christ (insert confused raised eyebrow here) with rules about not eating Snickers for breakfast.

Or  how about the wonderful jolly fat man who brings presents every year under the illusion that you must behave.



[Give me a break! I KNEW I didn't have to worry about being good because Santa ALWAYS visited my cousin Craig and if he could get something out of the stingy, judgmental old fart I knew I was golden!]

In remembering my favorite myths and fables let's not neglect the tooth fairy.
Who in God's name came up with this whole concept?  Money exchanged for body parts?  Oh geeeeez!  Do we wonder where this whole "cash for kidney" black market thing originated?  And let's talk about the guy living down at the bus station.  If he got money for every tooth he'd lost I'm sure he'd have at least enough for a nice appliance box and a tarp by now.

What makes much more sense to me is a Menstrual Fairy.  Ask any woman (and especially any teenage girl) and she'll tell you that waking up to a ten dollar bill or maybe a little present once a month would do wonders in keeping us all from wanting to kill Eve.
Those dreaded cramps and back ache could be nicely pacified with a bottle of wine from the Menstrual Fairy.  Bloating could almost be alleviated with a wonderful box of Godiva chocolate.
Irritability would most likely disappear with a hot stone massage from the local spa.
So many wrongs could be righted.
Countless "unfairs" would be a little less so.
Who do I need to contact?  Is there a council for new and improved folklore?  An annual meeting or something?  An address in which to send our suggestions because I have a few.  I mean we could totally replace that Sandman dude.  No one even neeeeeds him anymore with Lunesta on the market!
Who's with me on this?
Let's hear it for the Menstrual Fairy!

Well, until I get my day in court until I appear before the Great Council for Determining Childhood Falsehoods  we must suffer these transgressions silently hoping for justice...and by we I mean you because I've had a hysterectomy.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

My mom was the Slug-Bug master!

Grown ups are liars.
And they lie about the stupidest things.

Playing with fire will make you wet the bed.  Not true.  If this were true my brother Joey and my cousin Russell would've drown before they were 8.

Masturbating will make you go blind.  Ok, again, if this were true there'd be no boy over the age of 14 with any sight left at all.

You must wait 30 minutes after you eat before going back in the water or you'll get cramps.
If you cross your eyes they'll get stuck like that.
Don't swallow your gum because it takes 7 years for it to digest.
That's crap.
Going out in the cold with wet hair will make you sick.

Ok, I can get that sometimes ignorance is just passed down from one generation to the next (you should see my Uncle Carl), and that maybe old wives tales are just repeated for entertainment purposes.

But food lies are my biggest pet peeve!  

So I'm going to clear some things up.  
I knew, even as a kid that these were lies.  I thought once I got my membership card to Adultland all these things would suddenly become clear to me.  Nope.  Instead it made me realize that grown ups are just bored and have a twisted sense of humor.  It's kinda like a game of Slug-Bug except instead of punching each other they see who can get more kids to eat stuff they don't like...and here is the magic phrase they use to do it:

"That's the best part!" 

THIS is the best part.
So you're sitting there, minding your own business, eating all the middles out of the Oreos and throwing away the nasty, crumbly, overly chocolate outsides when you hear, "What are you doing?  The cookie is the best part!"
Ummmm, no.
It is NOT the best part.  
If it were the best part then the genius over at Oreo who came up with Double Stuff would be washing cars for a living. 


Or how about the fact that we all KNOW the icing is the best part of the cupcake. Try leaving any part of that cake on your plate after you've licked all the goodness off and you'll hear it, the biggest grown-up lie of them all.
"Why didn't you eat the cake?  That's the best part!"
No it is NOT.
If the cake is the best part then the idiom The icing on the cake would make no sense at all.
Which one of these would you rather have?

Let's not forget pizza.  Mmmmmmm.  I love pizza!  I can eat at least 49 slices a day and probably more.  But I only like the good part.  The yummy, cheesy middle part.  Not the crust on the outside.
This is what a pizza looks like when I'm done.

Let an adult catch a glimpse of that plate and Oh Boy!  You can mouth the words as they say it, "The crust is the best part!"
Oh good!  Then you can have all mine.
As a matter of fact, I'll eat all the yummy part and you just wait til the end and have yourself your own little Pizza Crust Fest!

LIES!  These are all lies.  Lies told to kids for reasons I still do not understand.
Lies I DO NOT tell my children!

The ignorance in this family STOPS at my generation!
................uh, I may need to rethink the previous statement.........................

Anyway, for all you under 10's out there, ANYTIME you hear the phrase, "What are you doing?  That's the best part!" ignore it and continue eating.  You're only a pawn in a sick, twisted, adult version of Slug-Bug.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Try not to poop on yourself today and have a cupcake

Life is what you make it.  I believe this.  I know very negative people who live the most miserable lives and I know people with very little who could not be happier.  It's all in your perspective.  I really try to choose joy always.
Do I?  
Hell no, but to help me remember I had this verse tattooed on my ass I got this tattoo:

Psalm 188:24- I will rejoice and be glad in it.

It helps me to remember to choose joy.
Every day.
In all situations.

Because really?  When your 18 year old son decides it's time to teach your 13 year old daughter how to drive and they put a Pontiac through the the front of your house what else can you do but laugh?  (true story) Well, actually the first thing you do is get a glass of wine but then you laugh. 

To help me remember some things I'm thankful for I have my "It's a good day when..." art journal.  On each page I try to paint something I'm grateful for.  Here are a few:

Ok, this never happens.

It's always a good day when you're not dead yet.

He has a LOT to say to me.  A LOT!
Messy hands=great day
I love rain!

This is pretty self explanatory, right?

Talking on the phone is NOT my fave.
I'd rather stay home.

I'm addicted to sugar.
Ok, this never happens either.
That's NOT gray hair.

Ahhhh, the Frio River.

So basically, if I wake up, it's raining, I eat a cupcake for breakfast, paint something, God is calling me an idiot and 
I have not shat myself it's the 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Jesus saved my soul but roller derby was a close second.

I live with fibromyalgia.  It's awesome!  For those of you who still believe this is a made-up condition that doesn't really exist, I totally agree...until I wake up.
A lot of people ask me what it feels like (including doctors) and I have found myself trying to come up with an explanation.  Here's what I've got so far:

I am a retired roller girl

Retired so that I have more time for Art, my lover (see previous post).

Roller derby is a sport that digs itself into your soul...
...and it hurts.
(Just like Fibromyalgia)
Basically, the goal is to kill each other:

You can see here that Gwen wants to kill me...
...and I want to kill her.

Now, imagine how that feels the next morning.  Like someone took a bat and beat you with it. I don't mean the cute beady-eyed kind from the cave but the pine-tar kind that can knock the skin right off a baseball.  Ya see?  Fibromyalgia hurts   just like roller derby hurts.  Derby just gave me a reason for waking up every morning in pain, almost like I earned it or deserved it.  It didn't make me hurt less, it just made it easier for my brain to understand.

Last night I went to my first bout since retiring.  It was great!  It was great to see my derby sisters out there killing each other and it was great to sit behind the bench not on it.  I didn't miss it.  I was so glad.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the sport but last night I realized that chapter in my life is closed.

So, for all those girls who woke up this morning 
feeling like they'd been hit by a Mac truck 
all I can say is:
Thank you Hurricane Alley Roller Derby

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

All you can really ask for is a friend who calls you stupid

I have friends.  I don't like most of them but I've got some.  I mean, you gotta have them, right?  It's a rule or something?

See how miserable I am when I'm with them?
(this is me with Flint and Mari and Pearl.  I like them)

 Ok, so I like some of them.  I do have a very small "friend" circle though. Very small.  And while you're thinking right now of your friends and what they mean to you, you can be sure that it's not at all what a friend means to me.  

See?  I don't do high maintenance.  I can't handle it (can't means won't in almost every single situation in life unless you're trying to fly).  In the past I've had friends who need to talk to me every single day and hang out with me at LEAST once a week and blah, blah, blah. Ugh!  NO!  Yuck!  I have Gordito for that.  I like him WAY better than anyone else so if I have free time I want to spend it with him.  I've REALLY tried to weed those needy people out of my life simply because they need more from me than I'm willing to give.  It's only fair to them and to me (mostly me) to let them fly away to find other freaks with a weird sense of need for female companionship...some of them are still hanging on but for the most part I'm in a good "friend" place.
If you're wondering right now if you're one of the freaks hanging on...you are.
I struggle a little with introvertism. Oh...according to Spell Checker that's not a word. 
So, I have a condition known as reclusivitis.  Well, again, Spell Checker disagrees but it's only because Spell Checker has never experienced what I experience on a daily basis. I do LIKE to go out and do stuff occasionally (not really) but I mostly just like the IDEA of it. So to give you an example of what goes on in my head here's what happened today:

 I saw this on Facebook

And my I-like-having-friends part of my brain said, "Oh, that might be fun.  I like some of those girls and I DO need to get out of the house.  I'll text it to Gwen and see what she thinks."
So I texted Gwen.
A million times in 15 seconds:

By the time Gwen got to her phone from the 56 or 70 texts in a row of the crazy conversation going on in my head I'd already talked myself out of it.  Fortunately for me, Gwen knows me and she basically said, "You're stupid.  We're going." and that's why she's in the circle.  

Of course, we may not go.  It depends on if the stars line up or Jesus comes back before then or her kid pukes on her shoes or whatever but I know she understands me and that's all I can really ask for.