Truly Screwed UP

Not much time to post today, but thought I would share this with my readers...

We are anxiously awaiting our W-2's so we can get our taxes filed and our refund into savings earning interest. On that note... There is this Article. Some people will stop at nothing to stick it to da-man.
Myself, I was never fond of pregnancy of it's own right... But I would never have thought of inducing labor early for a tax break.

Happy New Year to all my readers, and see you on the other side in '06.

MT Idiot

I am posting today to test the site. I have upgraded to MT 3.2, and n the process found out what an idiot I am, as I had to get into the root folders of my site, and found a complete mess. I don't know how to fix it, but hopefully, I have found a way to keep the mess from getting worse while I figure this out.

UPDATE:
I think the junk filter is working- a good thing, since that is what started me on this odyssey of self flagellation. It wasn't me... Kev did all the figuring out of the code, and filters, and templates, and upgrades. Seriously smarter than me in these areas. It is just to me to write the stuff. I leave the technical shit to those that love me.

Wow....

It's crap like this that makes me thankful I am not part of the herd, and that I use a Mac.
Microsucks... doing it to you again.

How Does One....

In checking my webmail, I found one from a guy who wants to buy my domain name for AAFES Sucks. I am unsure how I feel about that. I am also unsure how one goes about giving up a domain name- or selling it for that matter. Selling it, right? It is a transaction thing...
He assures me however much hatred I have for the corporation, he has more. I find it hard to believe, but if he could do more in getting the word out that AAFES sucks, then maybe.... just maybe...

What fun it is

Today I will try to find a place for all the new toys and clothes from Christmas. It may be a bit of a challenge, and may result in much screaming, as the kids will not want to part with the old, to make room for the new. I suppose they would prefer I just make more closets.
After Santa left, in the calm bliss of midnight the living room looked like this.

Although dawn had not yet broke in the morning, the kids were after the long anticipated gifts under the tree like white on rice. The tearing of papers, and opening of boxes took almost 2 hours, and the husband and I thought well enough ahead to make sure the kids threw away one paper before opening another, and he kids did very well... so knowing that we cleaned up as we went... This is the after.

Thanks to all the friends and family I may not have gotten to call yesterday- and even to the ones I did-Thanks again. Our Holiday was fabulous- the best one yet!

Favorite Tradition

Everyone has their traditions at Christmas time. I have to admit, I am a child of technology, and one of our favorite traditions around here is tracking Santa all day on Christmas Eve with NORAD. The kids absolutely love it. At last look, he was somewhere over New Zealand. We bake cookies for Santa and watch his impending approach towards our home.

I believe in Santa.

Another fun Christmas site Simon Says Santa

Merry Christmas to you... And very special greetings to the members of our military family! Keep the spirit no matter how far away from your homes you are!

..And Mom and Dad can hardly wait....

We are officially 3 days in to Christmas Vacation, and I can't wait for January 3rd. Although I did go through a small amount of empty house syndrome when my youngest started school this year, it only lasted about 2 hours. Then I opted for a bath...with bubbles... in the middle of the day... with the bathroom door open.

The kids are not bad... not really. I have just become accustomed to, and protective of, my time and space alone. Add to that the extra mess and stress of Dad being home during this week too. It's nice to have someone to talk to- it is equally as un-nice to have everyone in my way. There is little more frustrating than trying to clean up around someone who is sitting on the couch like a bump on a dog's dick. They are not helping- they are certainly making sure I have plenty to do in my job of cooking, cleaning, and holding my mental state together.

My entire schedule is in chaos. The TV is blaring in the middle of the day- something that is unfamiliar to the walls of this home... Usually, it is loud music and a crazy woman dancing around the floor with a dust mop, singing at the top of her lungs. So, I am trying to count my blessings for having my family around me- and counting the days until I can miss them again.

God bless my iPod.

Dangerous Business That

Ever see a bi-polar woman get bored?
It's ugly.
The backstory: As I have decided that my doctor is, in fact, stupid for telling me "the pill" would fix my female woes, I have determined I will follow my own advice and stop taking them... Before they kill me, or they become a defense exhibit when I kill someone else. The pills not only didn't fix, they did worse...They unfixed, they anti-helped, in my case, the pill was the un-cure.
I told my doc at the time that it was a bad idea, and I was not interested in being put back on the pill. Told her I had been there, done that, and she put me on them anyway. The problems I went in for in the first place- got worse. Much worse.
The doctor I saw offered me the empty consolation that if things hadn't improved within 4 months, I should come back. I tried to make the calls- the "nice" lady (aka stupid bitchy lady) who answered the phone made no mistake about the fact that she doesn't know jackshit about her computer system. She was unable to find said notes from said doctor, and recommended I start the referral process over. Bitch.... I digress.
The Bipolar me: I have mentioned that I am bi-polar. That is a mixed emotional state that swings from mania to depression. Some people get euphoric and go shopping, some get crazy happy... When I go on my manic thing- I rage. The meds I take help me to keep it level, so I don't freak at the top, nor sink too low at the bottom. They make me normal... ish. With out it- I can feel it coming on- the rage- imagine being trapped in a car with the accelerator pedal stuck to the floor, and no brakes. That's what it feels like. You are losing control, and you can't do much about it.
The Combo Punch: I stopped taking "the pill" 3 weeks ago. I did not stop taking the ever so nice Lamictal. I had done some research and found out that tricyclic hormones do like to screw with this anti-depressant med in some way. So I was expecting somewhat of a balancing act between normal and not so normal as I stopped taking the BC pills. A little bit... a small adjustment...
This is something I was ill-prepared for. The mood swings have been awful... Cycling at least daily. I am loving those fabulous moments when I feel myself ramping up, ready to kick the ever living shit out of the poor clerk who made the mistake of saying "I don't know" to me in the store. I walk around, and at any moment, I just want to beat someone to a bloody pulp on a general purpose justification. I see it all in my head "But why?!" they say to me, and I retort "Because you're ugly, and you drive like an asshole.".
The Effect: Like now. I usually can fight this swinging mood thing off during the day. I have to find something else to do besides think... Nights are more difficult. I am sure the downstairs neighbors would scarce appreciate my scrubbing floors with a noisy machine, or rearranging the bedroom closets with nice loud bangs on their roof. The kids are fast asleep too, and they tend to get grumpy if woken up by a screaming vacuum cleaner in the hallway at midnight.
So I sit here, totally irritated that I have to listen to my husband chew on chips, or look at my cat licking his bunghole, or watch the other cat play with a straw as if it is the best damn thing in the universe. There is nothing on that I want to watch, and if there was, I wouldn't have much luck getting the TV away from the spousal unit.
It's the boredom. It makes me a little bit nuts- and I am trying not to let it send me into a full blown freak out that Kevin would be the inevitable target of.
So readers, how do you cure your boredom when it comes to call? It's too late to go out, it's too late to start any major house projects, and I am in no way ready to go to bed.

Ho, Ho, Blow me

Today, we did the shopping for the big fat man, in the bright red suit, and snow white beard... No, not Uncle Jesse on Dukes of Hazard, but the Santa stuff.
"Twas great fun running through the isles picking out stuff for the kids trying to stick to the time constraints of a lunch break. It's the only time we have had without them to go get this done. I even got the treat of lunch out with my old man- even if it was only Taco Bell. (aka Toxic Hell.)
Next week begins Christmas Break (and yes, I said Christmas, not holiday or winter break). I am sure it will be a fun filled couple of weeks of my blowing my lungs out saying "STOP IT!" and "QUIET", and especially, "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN, THOSE ARE FOR CHRISTMAS!"

The tree is piled three plus feet high in the back- so much so that it is distorted and bent like a little old lady with osteoporosis. This is before Santa comes by with his toys, drive-by style, to riddle my living room with toys and papers like a yuletide gangster. We also have yet to receive all the grandparents boxes- and there is another in the car I picked up today from those masochistic assholes at the post office. I just don't have the heart to open it today, as I know it will inevitably lead to me crawling my big ass under the tree yet again to try and stack the boxes in such a way as to not have my entire dining area overtaken with festively papered packages.
It's not that I don't love it.... But it's a love/hate thing. It's wonderful to see the glee on the kids faces as they see the haul of kiddy treasures under the plastic pine boughs growing.
The tainted attitude comes from the many bags of recyclables we will have to take down full of window front boxes, wrapping paper, and those impossible-to-get-into shrink wrapped uber tough plastic bubble parent proof things on all the toys these days. Those fabulous see through teases that let the kids see the toy, and clamor for you to get it out of the box as you cuss under your breath, and pull the skin of your hands raw trying to pry the now named "piece of shit toy" from it's plastic prison.
It promises to be great fun!

Ho, Ho, Ho??

Back to Basics

I have been married to my husband, and in turn, the Air Force for over 9 years. These many moons have given me a stomach full of good and bad experiences far too numerous to recant here. Not withstanding, I grew up in the Marine Corps, and saw some of the things my parents went through- and I opted to marry into the military anyways. You can not be married to a military member, and not be married to the military itself.

It is during this time of year that my heart goes out- not just to the military members who are stranded in foreign countries that the media likes to patronize for ratings, but to the families and spouses who are left behind, again and again, to worry, fret and keep their chins up. We do our duty, saying we are married, but living as single parents, and always in the back of our minds is the fear of the bad news coming on the wings of Christmas that are we widows... Imagine living every day wondering if he will be gone tomorrow, dying in the arms of someone else's husband and father.

There is a quagmire of other crap that we must endure... Especially the families of the enlisted men. They get treated more like shit, get put farther into the cross-hairs of danger, and frankly, the money really sucks. A typical USAF guy who has been in for 10 or so years makes about 28K a year. You know any accountants dedicated to a job 10 years who make a pittance like that?

There are times we would rather go see a cauldron stirring witch than a military doctor for treatment... (There is nothing comforting about a man in BDU's giving you a pap smear.) Try explaining to someone who has never experienced this life why your old man has to do something that seems completely retarded and idiotic to normal people, and has no choice in the matter. Better yet, try biting your lip if your office-man were to come home and say, "The boss said I have to go back to school to get another job I don't want...and we have to move somewhere else to do it....of course there is no extra money in it. I just have to do it....and when we get there- I will be leaving on a 6 month business trip, so you will have to set up household and life without me."

Often times, the spouse is in a strange place, with unknown people, unsure of what to do or where to go. If the spouse is new to the military life, she is overwhelmed and often stuck, feeling life has dealt her into a game she didn't ask for. My husband missed the pregnancy and the birth of his first child, having gotten his orders for Korea 2 days after we found out we were expecting. A girlfriend of mine left Germany last year pregnant, and subsequently served her first pregnancy and first separation concurrently. As if delivery wasn't hard enough, without having to do it alone.

We have benefits and retirement. We have the commissary and the BX. We have some base housing, and maintenance. They provide overseas families with schools for their children, and doctors for their ailments. We even have a savings plan that works like a 401 K... It all comes at a hefty price. For some spouses, it has the ultimate price tag. No matter how proud we are of our man for his sacrifice, that beautifully folded flag is not what we want back from the Armed Forces- we want the guy we married, and sometimes we just can't have it.

We pay bills, and help our kids with homework, and fix the car, and mow the lawn, and deal with the in-laws, and go to meetings with teachers, and a myriad of other things that usually takes a couple to accomplish. We carry it off with an air of grace and dignity. We do it silently. We do it proudly... and, yes, sometimes we absolutely hate every second of it, no matter how big we smile and tell you we are proud of our spouse for what he does "over there". Keep that in mind when you see a frazzled woman in your town with that 50-yard stare trying not to lose it with her kids just barely under control in the aisle of Walmart. She could be one of us, and at the end of that proverbial rope- but she is trying her damndest, and won't let go for anything.

Behind every great man is a greater woman... The spouses (kids and parents, and sisters, etc), are the glue that holds this great military nation together.

Ok, Buster, Not With MY Kids....

Having had a previous run in with the substitute teacher that I just saw with my daughters kindergarten class, I feel I can now out him for being the prick he is without much guilt.
This particular teacher earlier in the year was in my son's first grade class, and at sometime figured that a good way to get him and another student back into line was to put his hands on them and yank them there.

This morning, upon dropping my daughter off for Kindergarten, Mr. G was there, to take the place of her regular teacher- (as she has broken her ankle)... I was not at all happy to see this man coming out of the classroom, but hey- maybe he had just had one bad day when he took it upon himself to put his hands on my son. Apparently not. It was like watching a badly done, and scarier version of "Major Payne" gone bad.

This idiot proceeded to stand in front of a class of 5 and 6 year olds and, like a twisted kiddy DI- snap at them "I am only going to ask one more time! Get in line! Feet together! Stand up straight! Chests Out! I don't want any playing around on the way into the classroom!"... and yes, he was stone cold, serious as a heart attack, snapping at these little kids. I have heard on T.V. about groups of people standing around with horrified looks on their faces- today I was privy to it. The mothers (including me) stood there with this expression like someone had just gutted a live screaming cat in front of their very eyes.

The outcry was concerned sounding, yet quiet in comparison- and completely ignored by the offender- "You don't talk to the kids like that.", "Who does he think he is?", and,"They are only kindergartners." He didn't hear a word of it. Not a word. I was hesitant to even let my little girl go into class today with that barbarian shit who thinks that 5-7 year olds should be treated like maggot recruits in the Marine Corps, but I knew pulling her out of line would have embarrassed her, and made for a rotten day for me.

Is this the best the DoD can get for substitute teachers? I know they have others- like the "Buffy" teacher. She's great with the kids. They have other people who are good with kids, and understand you use certain methods with different age groups of children. I, for one, think they should not have the rejected D.I. teaching 5, 6, and 7 year olds. They are, after all, our children, our little angels, and our babies.

I did call the school, and I am waiting for a call back. This will be my second regarding this same teacher. Are they KIDDING? "GET IN LINE! FEET TOGETHER..." If I have my way, they will ship this asshole off to Parris Island to complete his life in his true calling busting the asses of recruits, instead of treating my children like maggot shit.

Dicks cease immediately

Okay, dicks... enough already.
I have deleted 25 comments advertising cell phone ringers and online poker off my site in the last 3 days.
Stop already.
Not that I think this will do any good, as I am sure it is some crap engine that searches the net for unprotected comments, and places ads on them.
So- to my readers- anyone know of a password blocking thing for MT comments, that is easy to install? I am html-retarded and need it to be simple.

Big Bitch

This Woman is quite possibly the biggest bitch I have ever seen or heard in my life. Normally I wouldn't take out the time to comment on such a thing, but while watching the TV Menu scroll round and round last night, they were playing her radio show, and I was suddenly convinced that she wins the prize for being a bigger bitch than I.
In the past I have heard her tell a divorced mom that she had no business remarrying, as she had her chance at marriage and blew it, so she had to wait until her child was grown before she worried about men.
Go to her site and listen to some hog wash from a holier than thou big time bitch... so you can hate her too. Write her an email telling her how bad she sucks.

Gone

It seems in the season of rush, wrap and ship, I have lost my muse. It is rather frustrating to sit here and look at an empty blog entry. Equally frustrating is the struggle to pick a topic. I know if I could settle on something- an outpouring of words would appear upon the screen to fill the white desolate block with deep thoughts - or in the least- something entertaining and amusing for those that happen by my humble blog. This would happen easily and fabulously- like literary autopilot.

Alas, for now we will have to go with this... a blog about no blog. For today that will have to be enough.

Shit.

Politics question

Was flipping channels in between football time outs and penalties, and happened upon a friendly discussion on Fox News.
The question up for debate was "What words can President Bush say to help grow his approval rating?"

"I quit."

Laundry and Fat Cat

Blog fodder. This is the name I have chosen to assign to the little idiosyncrasies of life that give me my writing material. It may not be original- but I can't recall having seen it before. It's a better name than guano.

With my kids at school this morning, and a blissful quiet having fallen over the house, I can think a little more clearly- as clearly as a medicated crazy woman with a head cold can be expected to think.

This moment I am thinking of my absolute hatred of doing laundry... I hate it with the white hot intensity of 1000 suns. It never ends, and I think that is what I hate most about it. Even once the hampers are clear of the week's clothing, there are towels and sheets to be gathered and washed.

I also despise sorting socks. I fucking HATE it. I would rather scrub toilets, and wash unsoaked dishes than sort stupid socks. His socks, my son's socks, my daughters and mine. Thats a shit-load of feet to wash for. Invariably, there is always the proof of God's existence on laundry day- that magical power that seems to snatch one or more of the socks from the dryer mid-tumble.

This morning I even got the nice surprise of opening the dryer full of whites to find my fat-shit black cat laying his hairy shedding ass on my bleached white clothes. Did he jump out with that scared look, knowing he did a wrong? Of course not- he looked at me as if to say, "Go away- you're bothering me, bitch.", He only moved after I reached into the dryer and pulled his fat ass out, and he did his very best to give me a feline guilt trip, and shot me a "Die, bitch, die" look.

More than likely, he has moved to his second favorite spot- the branches of my Christmas tree. I don't know how he gets his porcine kiester up there, but when he does, I feel compelled to get the squirt bottle and soak him. Dangerous business that. When he gets out of said tree, on the other end of my itchy trigger finger, he scampers (in so much that a fat-shit cat can scamper), and the whole tree threatens to shake itself bare of all decoration.

He also eats the tinsel. All the cats take part in the snacking'o'silver. It makes for great fun cleaning the cat box- as I get to gag my guts up pulling out turds strung together by chewed strings of silver sparkle. It almost seems it wouldn't be the holidays without this little bonus... That and the inevitable puddles of cat puke on the floor from him eating the needles of the tree. What would compel an animal to eat something that makes him sick, then go back for seconds... and thirds...?

I must away- I hear the soft tinkle of the ornaments shaking on the tree- I am sure fat boy is starting his antics.