Saturday, August 27, 2011

So help me...

So I find out Tator's smokin' pot.  In case you forgot, she's 15 years old.  Fiffreakinteen.  I did the usual, yelled screamed and grounded.  I mean what else would I have done?  My question is this:  Once you ground a child, and they screw up again...what the hell else is there?  If I take away all the extras, and she still wants to act like a future convict, what else can I take away from her?  Maybe, it's not about taking things away, but about giving them more.  Like giving her a reason to NOT get high?  But how do you reach someone who seems to care about nothing?  Especially now that I've taken everything away she cares about...namely her freedom.  Any ideas?  Anyone?

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Having Company...

Believe it or not, there are some things that I don't think are appropriate to talk about.  I will leave a room full of women if the topic of "regular" experiences come up.  We all have them.  We know all there is to know about them, what is there to talk about?  But somewhere along the way someone (most likely of the peeing standing up variety) has capitalized on our "necessities" and now we have commercials.  Commercials selling us things we have to have.  Enticing us to purchase items we can not reasonably live without.  Flowered, dainty, "feminine" little boxes hidden under the bathroom sinks of female America.  Boxes just blatently displayed in nearly every purchasing outlet across the nation.  Let me just say this:  We know what we need.  We know where to find them.  We don't care what color the box is, or the name printed on it, or even how much they cost.  They are required.  We will NOT live without them.  If they were banned by the FDA we would scour every alley, abandoned house, or bridge club to purchase them illegally.  There would be single moms juuuuusssstt outside the school zones selling them from the backs of their minivans.  "Psst, come here.  I got wings.  I got supers.  There's plastic and there's cardboard.  I got what you need Mrs. Johnson".

Perhaps I'm odd.  I will drag myself out of the house in sweatpants, mismatched shoes, no bra, and a baseball cap to get what I have to have.  However, once I'm in the store, I'm overwhelmed by the awkwardness of the situation.  I will buy $200 worth of shit to hide that one little damn box.  God forbid someone know my "visitor" is here.  I check out as quickly as possible and disappear into bloaty slightly water-retentive air.  Again a victim of the "cursed" propaganda.

We have different names for these happenings-all trying to say what we don't want to say, but feel it necessary for you to know.  We all do it, it's no secret, and we have a code-even another language entirely.  So for future reference, if I ever tell you I'm not swimming today because "I've got company"; my visitor is not a 5'3" brunette named Mother Nature holding a shiny wrapped "gift".  My company is a 300 pound black bitch carrying a Louisville Slugger with about a hundred 4" wood screws screwed into it.  Period. 

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

I'm baaaaaaaccckkkkkk

So, I've done a blog before.  Ended it.  Starting it back up.  I'm a big Facebooker, but sometimes there's just not enough room.  If you're new here or don't know me here's a little bio to whet your whistle.

I'm a 36 year old single mother of three.  Children that is.  I do not claim pets, or imaginary black people overseas as my children.  If you did not pass through my hoohaw, you are not my child.  My oldest daughter Tator (names have been changed to use as blackmail later) is 15.  My youngest daughter Enforcer is 11, and my son and youngest child Elvis is 8.  We have a dog.  He's dumb.

We live in a two bedroom house in a very very small town.  Population 597, of which we are related to 542.  In case you're not very good at math, that's four people living in a two bedroom house.  I'm a selfish cow, I have my own room.  Everyone under 5'4" shares a room.  Until Tator outgrows me then it will be everyone under what I may weigh at the time.

A lot of things have changed for us in the past 8 or 9 months, but I'm going to blog from this day forward about current events in our lives.  This isn't some sort of "shout out" or "props" to me (I'm trying to use the hip venacular so as to speak to all my peeps).  This is just me airing my opinion and telling stories that happen to us from day to day.  I hope it's enjoyable to you.  I hope you leave comments.  I hope that maybe I can get a couple of LOLs outta this or at least a WTF? every once in awhile.  I'm a Christian but cuss like a lumberjack working on an oil rig.  I'm a hard ass-softie but I never say anything out of sheer meanness.  I save that for telemarketers, Jehovah's Witnesses, and a couple of ex-husbands.  So Peace Out, hasta la gonorrhea