Keeping a good attitude...?

I would like to put this up- more as a reminder to me. In the next weeks, when I know things are inevitably going to piss me off... There will be days when I want to climb walls, phone calls that will make it hard not to hurl the handset into the wall, and people I will want to punch square in the face when they just can't give me a straight or consistent answer... I will think fondly on this video. I passed coffee thru my nose watching it, and it wil no doubt give me a little smile, while I grit my teeth. I may be saying "Thank you, have a nice day", to their face- but just behind my lips I am telling them, "Go FUCK YOURSELF!"

Introspective

It's coming... Like a freight train in a tunnel. We are official now, as we got our orders on Thursday. We'll have a moving date Monday, which will basically set the dates for everything else- car shipping, vet appointments, packers, etc. It's been six years. Time to think back in the last few days of quiet... at lest that is what I have found myself doing... and looking forward to what's next. In six years, so much changed at home.

After fighting the good fight, post-op, my Grandfather left us. He left behind his memory of laughter and kindness, and a great gap of his presence. I remember the last time I talked to him- the night of December 19th. We were getting ready to go to the obligatory Christmas party for my husband's work. He was in great spirits and told me a dirty joke... we laughed our asses off, and I told him to take care of himself. I know most people have those postmortem regrets of "I never told him this or that.. He never knew..." I don't have those. He knew how much he was loved. He always knew how special he was to me, and I am sure he knows how much he is missed- I am certain when I crack myself up in an empty house thinking about one of his obscene songs, (I wish I had the prick of a stallion...) that he is laughing right along with me. The only thing I wish is that I could thank him, for everything. But then, I am sure he wouldn't go for all that mushy boo-hoo shit.

In September of 2004 I got news that one of my closest friends had killed himself. That last conversation with him is also stuck in my memory... because before I hung up, I had told him "I love you, and please don't do anything stupid." Guess he made an empty promise when he agreed. I miss him so badly and it is a hole in my heart that will never heal. Being in Europe, no one in his family knew where to find me or contact me to let me know when it had happened in August.. and I spent the better part of September, after I found out, crying every day. It still tears me up that I haven't been back to Vegas in over 6 years, to see him parents, or pay my respects at his grave. I am not sure that I have any regrets about what I said or did not say to him either... We were so close that I never pulled my punches, always spoke my mind, and always let him know how I felt... Although I wish I could have been there, that maybe if he had me to come to he'd still be around, I can't regret any of that.... Just wistfully want it to have been different.

So much... Mom got married, Dad is getting married, my best bud from High school had a baby, my grandmother's health is failing. We've made friends who have left, made more, got close, and they left too. My son is nine, and when we got here he was three.... so he has spent more of his life in another country than his own. We came here with furniture that looked like it belonged in a newlywed flat, and now have a houseful of stuff we can be proud of. I have added 3 more cars to the very long list of vehicles come and gone. We've been the victims of check fraud, and changed bank accounts. We've seen the Eiffel Tower, walked through Notre Dame and been to Disneyland Paris. My kids got to put their feet into the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans within 2 weeks of each other. I tended bar at two different clubs, worked at the commissary, broken my ankle, had a hysterectomy and ortho surgery. It's been a busy six years...

Yet, I don't feel any different really. Not much has changed. The daily grind, the bills, helping with homework. A roller coaster of belly laughs and sobbing in tears... and now with so much getting ready to change around here- I wonder- how much will change really?

Classics and Explicatives

There are some jokes that just never stop being funny. I think people are too uptight about the use of explicatives in everyday language. Yes, yes, there are times when it is not appropriate, but in everyday conversations between adults, the proper insertion of a colorful word can have great impact. Anyway- two of my favorite jokes. They never fail to make me laugh, and they are just never unfunny.

This being one of my favorites- as it includes FTFF- Fuck the Fuckin' Fuckers- and, "Why don't you go outside and play hide-and-go-fuck-yourself?!"

Then there is another of my favorites:

There are many words in the English language that can have multiple meanings, but none are more versatile than that little four letter word, SHIT.
Consider the following:
* You can get shit-faced, Be shit-out-of-luck, Or have shit for brains.
* With a little effort, you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit, or be asked to shit or get off the pot.
* You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, forget shit, and tell others to eat shit.
* Some people know their shit, while others can't tell the difference between shit and shineola.
* There are lucky shits, dumb shits, and crazy shits. There is bull shit, horse shit, and chicken shit.
* You can throw shit, sling shit, catch shit, shoot the shit, or duck when the shit hits the fan.
* You can give a shit or serve shit on a shingle.
* You can find yourself in deep shit or be happier than a pig in shit.
* Some days are colder than shit, some days are hotter than shit, and some days are just plain shitty.
* When you're sick, you can feel like shit, look like shit, smell like shit, and sound like shit.
* You can also sound like you're full of shit.
* You can have too much shit, not enough shit, the right shit, the wrong shit or a lot of weird shit.
* You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit, or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle.
* Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit and other times you fall in a bucket of shit and come out smelling like a rose.
When you stop to consider all the facts, it's the basic building block of the English language.
And remember, once you know your shit, you don't need to know anything else!!

So, have a nice day. Or go fuck yourself- I don't give a shit! ;)

Epitome of...

Main Entry:
epit·o·me\
Pronunciation:
\i-ˈpi-tə-mē\
1 a: a summary of a written work b: a brief presentation or statement of something2: a typical or ideal example : embodiment 3: brief or miniature form

Epitome of Bad Cook: Was in the commissary and was looking through the quick fix meal kits... as there are just those days that cooking a full dinner is more than I an bear. I grabbed some Supper Bake kits, and looked up to see the most horrid thing I could imagine- "Microwave Hamburger Helper". Now you have to be having a bad day, in a mood for bachelor food, or hard up for choices to make Hamburger Helper at all, but who the fuck is so bad a cook that they can't use a frickon skillet? Hamburger? In the Microwave? Fuck-ing-gross.

Epitome of Asshole Driver: Passes you on the road- with a dirty look- as if he ass was on fire, only to end up right in front of you at the gate, go into the same parking lot, and circle. Once, Twice, Three times... by third trip around, I stopped for a spot opening up behind him, turned on my blinker and waited. The prick tries to put his piece of shit Audi into reverse, and acts as if he is expecting me to back up. I made sure to smile at the son of a bitch on the way into the clinic while he continued sharking the parking lot.

Epitome of Bad Taste: Now we've all heard the horror stories of old men wearing black socks with sandals. Let me refresh you with a new visual. Large older woman in a tank top t-shirt, and shorts. Not so bad, you say? Well, take away the bra under that tank top, and add to it the age of about 50ish, and all the saggin' that goes with it. Now picture it in a grocery store reaching for produce.*shudder* Run. Run Away.

Epitome of Pussification: It's called the "Military Honor and Decency Act". Some loud mouthed asshole in the south is trying to get Playboys and Penthouses banned from being sold in military stores. He thinks his tax dollars are paying for Porn. Being the fact that the military supports AAFES (as much as they suck ass), I think someone needs to roll up a Playboy and smack him across the nose with it like a dog. The son of a bitch doesn't live on base, work on base, go on base... But some bible thumpin zealot- likely some plasticized rich bitch soccer mom- got some politician's panties in a roar to champion a cause that needs have no voice. "It's all about the kids." Fuck you. It's the military, not romper room. Stop trying to pussify the few little bits of adult entertainment these guys get. I am not saying put Debbie Does Dallas on the shelf- but Playboy? Seriously? I see more graphic shit on BBC Television.

Epitome of Stupid Parent: My son came home the other day and left his pants in the laundr... well, on the floor of the laundry room. When I picked them up to wash them, a bunch of little neon yellow pellets fell out of the pockets. I asked him where they came from- he said they were laying around at the park on the ground. So, some twat has seen fit to give their kid a frickon pellet gun to take the the park where little kids play. My son swears he doesn't know where they came from, and none of his friends have a BB gun... Great job there Dad. If for no other reason than to litter a play place with choking hazards for toddlers- God help those asshats if I find out someone brings a pellet gun anywhere near my kids. Stellar parenting there.

Epitome of Bad TV: I thought Eurosport showing snooker and curling sucked. I have seen a whole new low in entertainment. The AXN network here has a program of backgammon. Like watching paint dry... But the crux of it is, they try to play it up to be all exciting, with some tard narrating it like it's a sporting event of Olympic scale. Gets all dramatic and shit as if it is going to come to blows any second- this dorky looking peck with a cane and a cheap suit flashing in to talk and add that special flair of... ugh.... They set it in a warehouse- on a $10 card table and folding chairs... I'd rather have a fucking mammogram... and my husband watches it. I should deprogram the channel from the TV.

Epitome of Stress: Two months until moving, only half of half of the shit done to organize, and every time I seem to get one thing done, I find 2 more projects that need done. Finding many jobs in the ND paper in the exciting and fast growing industry of food service, but not much else. Trying to figure out how long we'll have to rent a POS apartment until we can get housing there... and what all is entailed in shipping cats with the family.