Motivation

Motivation. I have none. Not when it comes to writing here lately. Mostly because I think it would get boring to continually ready about my head-fucked boss and how miserable she makes my life. While I can't say enough about how badly I want to beat her with a stick, at some point it just gets redundant. She emotionally and mentally exhausts me. Since a certain event at work a few weeks ago, my sleep has been for shit, and I have been having nightmares... Dandy, no? I don't know if it her, this thing that happened, the husband being home for months now convalescing, the sickness in my grandparents... shit it could be a combination of everything. But if dreams are the way that the mind works out your life, why do I wake up more disturbed than when I laid down? It's pretty fucked.

In any case, that's where I've been. I would like to say that I'll be posting more often. I will certainly try, but seems I am in a funk right now. I will be putting up pictures of the most recent "Holy shit I feel old" day. Our daughter turned 9 on Saturday... and HOLY SHIT- Chuck E Cheese is a loud loud place. More on that later. Tchuss.

Blank

I sit at work at night, and I think of all kinds of shit for blog fodder. Then I usually get home and am so worn out and draggin ass that the thought of sitting here and writing it out makes my head hurt.

I will write a quick intro to Nurse Clown. She is the raggin ass bitch who comes on day shift. I swear to god, she walks so high on her aura of self righteousness it is actually amazing to watch- like a train wreck in slow motion. You can talk about people who think their shit don't stink, but this twat- she thinks her shit is perfect- maybe even miraculous. Her moral grandstanding attitude makes me wanna puke on her shoes. If there was one person I could take in the back and beat to a bloody stump and get away with it? It would be Nurse Clown... Yep, Nurse Crazy is a personal piss off... but bloodying Nurse Clown would be a greater service to all of humanity. I will on another occasion go into exactly how I came to the conclusion that she is the indignation holier than thou cunt that she is, but not now... I'll just piss myself off on this, "my Friday", before bed.

I also had the random thought today while taking the trash out... as the sun is just coming up, but not rising yet... The few clouds on the horizon, if you blur your vision a bit, look like pretty mountains in the distance.... Ha! Snap back to reality- no mountains just flat flat flat for as far as you can see. I miss mountains. A few months back I was on a trip to another village a few miles from here- I was panicking and on the cell with the hub. He said, "Well do you see any landmarks?" To which I not so calmly replied, "What?! What fucking landmarks?! There's nothing here. The only thing I can see is... The curvature of the earth!" He started laughing at me... and I realized I miss mountains, and valleys with well defined cities in them.

Anyways...just a few random thoughts. I should be around more soon, as the kids are out of school the end of this week- and them being around always adds excitement... insanity that needs an outlet.

Noble? Really?

I think for the time, I will put this up as a place holder... mostly centered on the idea that somehow there is nobility in my job. That there is something wonderful in the work that I do, and the fact that I am willing to do it- hell even enjoy my job- makes me one who has more of a calling, somehow... See. This is a placeholder because I am not entirely sure how to process the literal shit I wade through each night into a noble calling....
So, I'll get back to this one. IN the mean time... discuss. Ghosting the halls of a nursing home throughout the nights, watching and waiting for lights to call. Doing rounds to change the briefs of those who are incontinent- some wet, some covered in feces... But how does one process the fact that I spend all night cleaning up poo and piss, and whatever other fluids that might come up... Into some noble calling.

Maybe it is just the exasperation talking- a crazy night busting ass, calming residents from dementia induced screaming, and shit explosions, call light bingo of the other residents not really sure of what they want.

Dazed and confused

So what does one do when found in an impossible conundrum? I love my job. I like the hours, I care about the residents, I like the work itself... I hate my boss. With an intense fucking passion. When I got home this morning, I had to opt for a nice soft muffin to eat, as my jaw was sore from being clenched up for the better part of my shift.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that she is a hard ass, or just a bitch- it's just how she does absolutely everyfuckingthing she applies herself to from the moment she gets there until I leave. I have come to the conclusion that she has some serious undiagnosed psychiatric condition that make her the way she is. Compulsive, borderline obsessive. Why else would it take anyone 45 minutes to fill out a fucking form? Some people who seem compulsive aren't really- they are neat freaks, or big on attention to detail- but they still get their shit done. This woman gets so wrapped up in her shit that she gets tunnel vision, scatterbrained, and will write a report before she writes a report. No joke, she writes it out on a piece of paper, then copies it into the chart. Now if you have meds to give out, vitals to take, paper work to record on 15-20 people... isn't that a bit of a stretch? God forbid if something happens with one of the residents and she has to go check on them (keep them up for an hour to take their pulse?). Her shit is in a constant state of chaos. I think it must be awfully noisy inside her head- like a blind man tripping through a stack of empty cans on a tile floor.

Seriously, how can anyone who has been in nursing for 30+ years need to sit for 3 hours and look up medical terminology in a dictionary to fill out a chart? Keep in mind, in a nursing home, the conditions one sees on a day to day basis don't change that much- not like we are in the diagnostics wing of some exotic diseases hospital. It's a fucking nursing home... and these reports are on residents she has been working with for months if not years- what the fuck is she looking up?! Her report for a single shift (keep in mind it is a shift the resident has SLEPT through) takes up 75% of the page. By way of comparison, the day shift's notes take up 6 or 7 lines, and document no less information.

This woman knows she is supposed to have Col. Cornflake greased up in time for me to get him out of bed and leave by 6 a.m. 90% of the time she doesn't get in there til 5:55. With her compulsive way of doing everything, we're DAMNED lucky if we can get in there before 6:15. It's horseshit. I am spending more and more time running around in the mornings trying to get her petty projects done ahead of her so she can do her fucking job. It's a goddamned good thing that I am good at what I do, so I have time to do it- but I shouldn't have to. It is driving me insane. She is obsessive, which is disturbing to the residents. She is a control freak, which is a pain to me, and I have noticed a touch of passive aggressive tendencies towards me and my co-workers when we get our shit done before she has a chance to nit-pick about them.

So, yeah. I love my job. Nights when Nurse Crazy isn't there are a fucking dream- even when those nights are harried and hectic with the residents climbing curtains and eating wallpaper. I can cope, I can deal, I can leave in the morning with a smile on my face.

BTW- no one cares in admin. They have had hundreds of night CNAs com and go through a revolving door of employment in the last 10 years that she has been there... and they won't do anything about shit that she does (or doesn't do), so talking to the big heads won't help. Best I can do is keep my private little notes of shit on a day to day basis, and over time, maybe I can compile a body of evidence the state can use to give her a nice vacation. In a quiet place. With the nice young men in clean white coats.

Thirtyish

Tis the season of lying around after dinner holding one's gut, and preparing for the onslaught of rotgut gas to come. As my hub's birthday is on St. Patrick's day we do a traditional Irish-American tradition of corned beef and cabbage. It's just plain yummy. It is the one thing for his birthday that I can not fuck up.

On the other hand, usually for his present I buy him electronics... which I invariably fuck up every. Single. Time. I buy what I think is a great thing, and find out that I could have had the one up model for less money, or it is not compatible with our shit, or it is not what he wanted at all and it will collect dust in the wrapper til the second coming of Christ. This year, I decided to try something different...

As food is something I can't dick up, and there is really nothing electronic he is lacking- I googled up food places that might send something no less than awesome. The Lobster Guy. For once, being married to a Masshole paid off. For the low price of $149.00 I got him two 2 pound lobsters, a pound of scallops, a pound of shrimp, half a pound of crab meat and two massive servings of clam chowder.That price included overnight shipping. Taking into account we could go to Red Lobster and spend $125, it was a hell of a deal. The little crawly bastards are in the kitchen at this very moment waiting for their execution in the boilin' pot.

With the extras, I was thinking of looking up a recipe for seafood stuffing, but going into uncharted territory, adventures in seafood cooking, as it were, I don;t want to risk dicking it up. I am sure no matter how easy the recipe looks, it may not come out like that restaurant we ate at on the cape. I can always go with what I know- scallops cooked with bacon, scampi and... I don;t know what to do with the crab- he doesn't eat crab cakes.... fuck it, I'll throw it into the "chowda".

I am off to go make a cake with GREEN whipped cream icing. Just because we are postponing the corned beef tradition, doesn't mean we are going to put off the yearly torture of K2 with the green extras.

Will Assholes Two and Three Please Stand Up? #1 Can Go.

My AAFES sucks website is providing me all new entertainment! An asshat in Germany obviously pissed off his fellow employees. I don't know how- maybe he called this guy's momma a dirty whore- but for whatever reason, his name ended up plastered all over the forums in a not so nice light. He was called out on taking the company car home overnight, and using company gas to fill it up to fuel his puttering around. Oh, and using it to go out drinking, bar hopping, and shit in town. He was accused of doing everything but screwing his old lady in the back seat.

I guess his friend saw these accusations, and decided to get knee deep in the monkey shit fight. He used his name in his log on. (EPIC FAIL). So he also got e-jumped and beat up. Now, I didn't see those posts because when I checked the site, it was full of spam. SHITLOADS of spam posts... and the posts made by Epic-Fail Guy had been self deleted, see why below. Apparently he got somewhat nasty- calling people bitches and cunts and whatnot. See, if he had any finesse he would know how to deliver a burn like that without coming across as a gigantic prick. In any case...

Now, these two AAFES employees got all pissed off because they got e-reamed. I would be pissed too. Of course I would not be so upset as to GO HIRE A LAWYER. "They called me a cheater and beat me up on the internet playground! WAAAAAH!" Nor would I resort to spending time and getting my friends to spend time spam bombing a forum site, either. (The e-equal to nanny nanny boo boo?)

Now, I was somewhere between insulted, humored and dumbstruck having read the "lawyer letters". They are demanding I release the IP and contact information of the guy who posted the initial accusatory comments re:Staff Car. They can fuck themselves. I have no obligation nor intention of doing either. Seriously... how ballsy can one get?

Here's the crux. I live in America... the frigid hell hole part, but it is still American soil. My site is hosted in Utah. I even renewed it recently from here in the USA. There is a law on German books saying the owner of a site is responsible for it's content. Groovy. BUT- if said owner goes on that board and specifically says those opinions do not belong to the site owner, they are off the hook. In the US laws I am just plain not liable for things other people post. Either way my ass is covered. Even before I found out about all this bullshit, I had gone in and locked that thread. Once I had read the complaints by the assholes who stand accused- I even deleted their names out of the post. I thought that was damn sporting of me, as I am under no obligation to do so... I don't care, nor do I want to read about a monkey shit fight where people are getting their mothers called whores.

In any case one of the men keeps messaging me asking me to release the information, and wraps it in a nice thin veil of threat of action from the (German) courts- i.e. "do it before it starts costing you money instead of time". (odd, as once you hire an attorney, aren't you supposed to let the attorney handle things?) So, I still find myself teetering between anger at his audacity and absolute hysterical laughter at his stupidity. Seriously, he has no, nil, nadda, zip, zero, zilch legal leg to stand on. It sounds kind of like this in my head..."BWAHAHAHHAHAHHAH... FUCK YOU! Bring it bitch!!"

Although the last message I got from him seemed somewhat more- I won't say nicer- but it was more pathetic; begging maybe. Now he wants to appeal to my empathy for working with an asshole. He promised it would be an epic downfall of this individual in the German Courts... even promised to make and send a youtube video of it. Wait, what?! You want to deprive a person of their job and livelihood during a global recession, maybe get him thrown in a German jail, and probably get him kicked out of Europe by losing his command sponsorship and be sent to the states with no job, no money and little prospects for survival... and that is somehow something to post on youtube? How about bragging to me that you will send it if I give up the information? You think MY site is mean and unfair? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? How god damned vindictive can you get?! I can be hateful, but fuck me, this guy is competing for a blue ribbon in the race to hell. Here's a crazy ass thought- wouldn't that make you even more liable and responsible for slander and shit than I am? Seriously dude... get help. Get it now, before we hear about you in a post office with an AK47.

In any case, I will keep y'all posted. He is just about to figure out that he fucked up when he tried to bully me with his "lawyer letters". I won't just enjoy teasing him like a matador with a cape... I will thoroughly enjoy destroying him and his buddy for being fuckin assholes. No matter how bad this guy he works with is, it can only pale in comparison to wanting to post his nemesis getting thrown in jail on youtube. I will say this whole matter has given me a really bad taste in my mouth for the "Professionals" in the AAFES IT Department. If any of the asshats who started this shit worked for me (the original shit flinger, or the 2 who are suing me), I'd see ALL 3 of them strung up by their balls in a tree over a bear pit.

Modern Times

The other day, when I wanted to write on here, the internet was out. I felt crippled. I can't even find phone numbers without having to give it a great deal of thought as to where to look. How pathetic is that? Worse still, I felt like I missed a day of hanging out with my friends... and it got me thinking.

How weird is it that more than half of my closest friends- I mean people I would take a ball bat to your head if you fucked with them kind of buddies- I have never actually "met"? Never sat down to have pie with them, couldn't pick them out of a picture line up, couldn't tell you what street they live on... but they are my playmates, confidants, and the majority of my social life. We have this couple we are great friends with. We met them online- every day we would get together and blow each others heads off with a sniper rifle, laughing our asses off as we did it. Finally got to meet them. They let our family stay with them for a week or so when we were in transit... It was fucking awesome, but in all reality, we didn't know a shitload of anything about their lifestyle, except what we had observed over a headset, and later on the phone. We pulled in to their driveway, and it was like driving up to a beloved family member's home. The kids called them "Uncle and Aunt".

I have made friends in lots of places... California, Indiana, and Florida... prolly 5 different towns down there, and these are people I trust to tell my secrets to, and consider them close enough to tell them to get bent if they piss me off, and know they won't stop coming around because of it. Next spring we are planning on all meeting up down near Orlando- even checking on a group rate for Disneyworld, because there are so many of us that want to get together.

So, while you see all this bullshit on TV about how the electronic age is making more people isolationists, I have to differ. Now, yes there are those freaks who feel the need to search for donkey-porn and spend 20 hours a day jerking off until they get callouses on they dicks... and those that use the internet friends to hide from their families, and cheat on their wives without technically "cheating"... I can't help but wonder if maybe this is the silent majority of the internet/gaming community that you don't hear about. Because I would take a bullet for my friends, even the ones who I have never seen... and know my life is richer for knowing them.

Holy Christ

Holy mother of God! How sad is it that we found ourselves saying, "We're going down to Nebraska to get out of the cold."? Which we did. Now, granted we had to drive through what I have now been told is called a "ground blizzard" to get there (which means that the snow is blowing so bad you can't see 10 feet in front of your car, although you can look up and see the fucking milky way)- and that was some seriously scary shit- but we made it. It was 55 degrees there. Normally that is still sweatshirt weather for me, but as this place has turned my blood into something resembling pancake batter, it wasn't bad. Anyways- that is what I did for my Birthday last week.

This week, I am trying to figure out why the fuck people live here... I mean, on purpose. It is -14 degrees outside, and the windchill is -35. For reference, most people set their freezers at 0, so imagine trying to take the trash out, or gas up the car in that. Mother nature doing her damndest to sandblast your face off with snow and ice in 20 mph winds, and it's colder than your kitchen appliance that is designed to freeze things. The frickon dog doesn't even want to get more than 10 feet from the door to go out and piss, and I think it nearly freezes her pee stream as it is leaving her body... On that note we are considering a dog treadmill... as the poor puppy never can go outside to play, run and get exercise. The place is so cold that I need an exercise machine- for the DOG.

I have been told this is the worst winter here in years. Fucking stellar news, that. This absolutely sucks- and... AND... it is not the worst of it yet, as "blizzard season" starts later in the year. Told a co-worker tonight that when it is 80 and they are all bitching and moaning about how hot it is, I am gonna be wearing a sweater and doing a jig. Christ on crutches... When is it going to get warm? I'll settle for "not butt-fucking cold", when does that start?

Dissention in the Ranks

So, as I have been at my job for awhile now, I have come to know certain residents nocturnal habits. What's weird is I can go there during the day and there are several people I couldn't pick out of a line up- as they rarely, if ever, call us at night. Some residents tend to call more than others... and thus far I have assigned pet names- pet ranks, in fact... mostly they are just for me to know, but any chuckle I can get at 3 a.m., no matter how small, is worth it.

Today I want to introduce you to one of our officers of Annoying.

We have Colonel Call-light. This is the one person in there who makes me want to shove a pencil in my ear. I don't know what the fuck is up with this woman. She calls, on average nine or ten times a night. She says she has to pee. She fucking lies, because she doesn't have enough urine escape her body to classify it as a proper piss... barely a tinkle. I don't think she even gets a stream going- just a drip. And she does this shit All. Night. Long. The pisser is? She is ambulatory. Perfectly capable of getting up and into her chair and to the shitter on her own... She doesn't. OH- the other piss off? If she doesn't have her call light when she goes back to bed, she freaks the fuck out- i.e yelling and screaming for help as if someone just hacked her legs off. She makes sure she has that fucking light before she worries about having blankets.

I made the mistake once of asking her if she was feeling okay, could I call the nurse for her, as it seems she wasn't sleeping very well. She said, "What do you mean?" , and I told her she had been up 7 times already, and didn't seem to be resting. She hollered at me, "I HAVE NOT! I know better than that!" Um... What the f... why would I lie? What possible motivation would I have for making shit like this up? Seriously. She also asks you to repeat things... but it seems she only goes deaf when you are saying things she doesn't want to hear. If you are saying goodnight, in an normal voice, she hears just fine and responds in kind. But say something like, "You've not slept well. You've been up often, are you okay?.", and she is suddenly deaf as a post.

Col. Call-light also has a cough. Now, when I say cough you might think a normal sounding cough... maybe even a hack resembling croup. Oh, not this woman... She sounds like she is hacking up a cat. Let me see if I can give a proper summation of this noise... mix the honk of a goose, with the sound of a child puking, and stepping on a cat's tail... turn it up to about 80 decibels, and repeat. Now, she has no infection, no virus, no nasty shit she is coughing up; no COPD, no emphysema... she just feels the compulsive need to go from what starts as a normal cough to trying to hack-scream a loogie out of her throat. And it goes on for probably 20 minutes at a time. She wakes other residents up with her horrible whole-cat-hair-balls.

I have been known to mutter to myself, under my breath, when leaving her room for the umpteenth time, "See you in 30 minutes." I know it makes me terrible... but she drives me out of my fucking mind, and last night she was especially annoying... hack, piss, hack, cough, piss, piss, and once even it the light to have me help her lay down. Odd, as she had been laying down 15 minutes earlier. And every time I go in there she insists that she needs help to sit up. ARRRRGGGHHHH! She proceeded to call me back in there 20 minutes after that saying she had to piss. Again. And she said, "I need help sitting up." Fucking lies. She also yelled at me, telling me I wasn't helping her enough- she did this while I was supporting her bony ass from her bed to her chair.

So, yeah. That's the Colonel. Not the high point of my night. Or my job. Wiping ass ain't pretty- but most of them ave the courtesy to not yell at me when I am doing it, or demanding that I do it every 40 minutes all night long.

Is it over yet?

A few things that are obviously untrue, from my point of view.

Stop telling me I will get used to it, when talking about the weather. It is not normal to walk outside and have my skin exposed to lower temperatures than in my household freezer. One does not adapt to seeing numbers on the weather channel that we were taught in elementary school as "imaginary numbers".

It is not something one "gets used to"; tolerates perhaps, but not "gets used to". Nor does one adjust to having breathing hurt, merely because you are outside. I don't think it is okay to be scared of pumping a full tank of gas for fear of freezing while waiting to fill. It is weird, when letting the dog out to pee, to have her come back in limping and whimpering because her little tootsies are half frozen.

"On par" does not include having to start the car 20 minutes before you want to leave in order to not freeze your bag ass off, have the windows fog up mid-trip, or ensure that you will be able to get the vehicle out of the driveway in the first place.

So, my blood will never run that thick, my skin never that tolerant. It is all a terrible lie. Please stop trying to blow smoke up my ass. I'll just hang out here next to my space heater and wait for spring.

Officially Official

How can I sum up this past week at work? Swimming through a river of shit. That's apt. Lots of diarrhea. A shitload of shit. When one of our guests is having bowel problems, 'tis my lot in life to clean it up. Even when it resembles get boggy pools of slag that the poor resident appears to float in.

One of the sweetest old ladies you would ever wanna meet has a cold, and she was so kind to share it with my co-worker and me. The day after she coughed on us, we both came in with sniffles, sore throats, and coughs... It was like that cute matching thing friends do, without the cute... or the friends- as I really like this girl, but after working together only a handful of times can't call a friend yet. I have made a few friends... That is, people I would go grab a beer and breakfast at Denny's with. Oddly, they are either much younger or much older than I. Meh, I'll cope.

Let us count our blessings... Thus far, my part time schedule has managed to stay part time. My lunatic boss seems to be stepping up for her aides here and there, and is trying to help us out in our jobs by getting hers done a little more efficiently. That isn't to say she doesn't still remind me of a car stuck in the mud- with the wheels spinning to a blur, and the car not going anywhere- but the other day she actually went to bat for us when we had a fucked night (see above, re: river of shit) and weren't able to get two residents out of bed before we left.. as usual day-shift-bible-beating-zealot-bitch-nurse had a fit- and my night shift looney-nurse stood up for us. Neat.

I am also now official. I am certified by the State of North Dakota to wipe ass, make beds, brush dentures, and empty catheter bags. I passed my test. Next on my goal list is to get my EMT certification... One of the other CNAs wants to do it too, so it will be even more fun. Then I can also be certified to run IVs, ride in ambulances, strap people to gurneys, and scrape grey matter off sidewalks. What more could a girl ask for in life?

Something New

I just got home from work. I had to start my car 30 minutes before I was ready to leave, of course- so the fucker was thawed out enough to see through the windows. Great fucking fun. "Dangerous wind chills approaching forty below are expected". Awesome. I need to stop watching the weather channel. It depresses the fuck out of me. Hell, today it is 9 degrees. It's practically a heat wave- it was negative 20... In most other places it would be, anyway, if the temp went up by 30+ degrees in a matter of 2 days.

Had a whole new set of experiences this week though. Never before have I been driving at 15 mph, and had that speed feel extreme enough to have me white knuckling the steering wheel. Never before felt on the edge of pissing myself driving through the quiet streets of a neighborhood, as I had to find out that quadra-trac means I can, in fact, go right over that large piled up snow drift in the road.

A whole new experience also lay in the simple act of going out for a smoke, or to grab something out of my car. Now I know that extreme cold makes your nose runny when you get back into someplace warm. What I did not know was what it felt like to have the inside of my nose freeze. It felt like when you get crutsy boogers, but instead of it being something I could blow, it was all attached little bits of frozen hair. Inside my face. It's a really unsettling feeling.

I have also never known the discomfort of my eyes getting cold. Like frozen- like that ache you get on your ears playing in the snow- but on your eyelids. What the shit is that? So god damned cold that you can't use your eyes? This is the middle of the United States- not the base camp of K2. It totally sucks.

I took the trash out at work after it had been snowing big pretty flakes- so big that when they landed on my coat I could actually see the lacy hexagonal shapes. Anyway- in to the cold with the bag of piss'n'shit I went, wearing only a scarf and gloves- as I didn't expect to be out there but a second. When I finally was able to pry the frozen fucking lid open and got the bag hefted in, the lid dropped and an asston of snow came loose and coated me in a thick, white, cold powder of pissed off.

Anytime I am going to drive, I have to think 20 minutes ahead to start the car. The other day I only started it 10 minutes before I had to leave, and although the windows LOOKED defrosted, when we got in the car and left, the fuckers fogged back up and I couldn't see dick. All while heading down the highway at 65 mph. Had to pull it over and use a credit card to scrape off the glass on the inside. This of course is with the kids in the car and the 20 rapid fire stupid questions that go with a big event such as pulling over, so the ten minutes spent hating my life was compounded by my urge to tape them both to the car seat.

Also, I don't know if it is possible- and it may well be nothing more than a lingering virus- but I am finding myself nauseated quite a bit as of late, and wondering if maybe it isn't something to do with this butt-fucking cold. It's like a rolling queasiness too- like seasickness or morning sickness- it comes and goes, and about half the time I toss my cookies. I can't seem to get over it as it has been going on for over a week now. I'll be fine one day, then the next, spend day trying not to heave my guts up. Could be the cold, my dicked schedule, some kind of funk floating around with the residents/employees, my lack of time or energy to cook a lot lately... Hell- wish I could figure it- tired of puking.

Of course, I have yet to puke in the snow and make a pretty color spatter. That is on this week's list for the weird-shit-o-meter.

Pray, bitches

Okay... Call me a big pussy, but I am scared shitless. This will be my first blizzard, and I ain't talkin Warcraft. Not only am I worried about the fucking horror stories I have been told by assholes who think it is funny to watch me go ghost white and throw up in my mouth, but I have to go to work tonight. As I live in town, many others don't, and they are talking about zero visibility, I could get stuck there for more than a day because the relief shifts can't get there.

Now, I know there is some kind of law about them "forcing" me to work, and them not being able to do it. There are also laws about how many CNAs have to be on the floor. I don;t know how those work out as far as what supersedes what. And I was told when I was hired that I might have to pull shifts if there was "weather". So, this is fucking "weather" I guess?! Yay emergency pay. Fuck me with a fire hydrant.

My only hope is that my lunatic charge nurse can't get to work tonight from her castle of doom. God forbid I get stuck 16+ hours with that crazy bitch because she was able to get an escort of flying monkeys to bring her in on her broom.

All I can say is that I am seriously glad for a 4x4 car and a husband who grew up in a snowy place. Still, the secular girl is asking, nay begging... if you are a member of the faithful- pray, bitch- pray that I get home okay at some point in the next 24 hours, without having lost my mind, (or killed my boss).

We Got it All!

What more could you ask for in a job? Tonight we got every kind of body fluid in a mere 8 hours. Blood, shit, piss, mucus, and vomit. Up til bout 2 it was rather calm, quiet... boring even. The puking kicked off the flood of ick, and it really didn't slow down after that. By the time the puking lady had gotten to the dry heaves (with the associated hollering sound effects) she was convinced she was losing her mind, and it was slipping away from her- kept telling us to wake her up. Freaky much?

The other fun run was to one of my favorite residents who looked like he went 5 rounds with Muhammad Ali, and lost. Worst. Bloody nose. Ever. We would start getting one part of the mess cleaned up, and he would start picking at it again and the bleeding would start again- all the while we had gone in there to clean up a poopy butt. At one point we just had to put him back to bed and wait for it to stop bleeding, for him to go to sleep and stop irritating it, and wait for it to dry up a bit. Went back an hour later and cleaned up his face- which once again resembled someone on the business end of a boxing glove. Got it cleaned up fairly well. And we're off again- Run the hell back to the puking lady, get her squared. Go to dress the early riser who half way thru getting dressed starts shitting- before I get her to the toilet. Fuckin A Grade AWESOME.

Also got to help change socks for a guy who started telling me about his sordid past with bi-polar disorder when he went manic and spent 135K of his mother's inheritance. Oh, and that he is schizophrenic- (shit hope he is medicated for that...) Bonus, and I am touching his feet... his nasty gross fucking dry flaky feet, with toenails that look like Fritos.

Then when looking over my schedule, I remembered that I signed up to work an extra 4 hour shift for December; yay Christmas money. Thursday night I was sick as a dog, and as luck would have it, a co-worker wanted to trade shifts for Saturday. It was a saving grace to be home trying to barf up a lung instead of at work. But wait- that afore mentioned 4 hour day shift... well it falls right after the shift I traded. So tomorrow, I will be pulling a 14 hour fucking day. Color me un-fucking-thrilled. I am now kicking myself in the ass for volunteering. Every time I do, it backfires in my face.

Also got my check stub... my incentive pay for last week is missing. Pricks. So, we'll have to get that fixed, won't we? The sonsabitches have yet to get my test scheduled for certification-I am pretty sure it is because once I am certed, they have to pay me more- and why not put that off for as long as possible, right? Rotten bastards.

At least I have a whole 15 hours before I have to go back, right? I wonder what normal people do at work.

Oh. God.

Not ten minutes, people? How about five to a take a piss?!

This was the night from HELL. There wasn't a time that there wasn't a call light going off. Not. One. Minute. I ran my bag ass off all night. We had the usual 17 calls from the guy who likes to pee. Well, he likes to go to the bathroom- he never does anything in there... the back story is that he spends all day sleeping, and so instead of sleeping at night he lays there bored and has nothing better to do than think about peeing... when he isn't getting up to piss, he is ringing the light telling us he might have to piss soon. Fuck. Me. Then the other calls from... well... everybody. One even called me to tell me how good he felt, and how good he was sleeping. Awesome. I think. At least I didn't get a face fart- I did get my fingers pissed on, so, SCORE for me on the gross-o-meter.

It was just nuts. And a note to the kitchen staff. Please never ever again feed the residents shrimp. One of them said "It didn't taste very fresh". (In North fucking Dakota? No shit? Can you get any further from brackish shrimping waters?!) In any case- it makes for, shall we say, a shitty night, so please, I beg you- never again, m'kay? That's all I got to say about that.

I am beat- and wound up at the same time. My hand is fucking screaming bloody murder from my carpal tunnel- I may have to do a home amputation kit (available at the nearest True Value hardware store). I can't go to bed yet, either. I have to go the to pharmacy, and then to the store to buy last minute shit for Thursday's face stuffage, and then to the bank Fuck. Ing. Joy. Perhaps we can splurge on breakfast while were out. That is assuming I don't go face first into my eggs- or toss my food by thinking about that horrid things I smelled/saw/wiped up tonight.

And so, and so, and so

Wow- I've been away for a long time. Work seems to have taken up alot of both my time and emotional juice. It has given me a myriad of stories to tell, I just have to make sure to tell them in a vague enough way as to not violate all those fun HIPPA laws. We have a nice cross section of people there though. Each of them sweet in their own right, but quirky none the less. This week, I was bent down to pull up the undies of an 80 pound woman, and while my face was dead even with her ass, she farted. Right in my fucking nose, and it was an ass busting you would have expected from a 300 pound man who lived on a diet of beans and broccoli. I seriously gagged it was so raunchy. Once I got her back to bed, I had to go wash my face and brush my teeth- the shit was in my fucking mouth.

The worst thing about my job? (Other than wiping ass for a paycheck)... My boss is a fucking lunatic. I bring her chocolate to ease her off my ass occasionally. She's a nice lady, which means I can't enjoy hating her, but at least once a week, I walk out of that place forcing myself to keep heading for the door instead of turning around to go smother her ass with a pillow and stash her body in the linen closet. She is grade A certifiable shit house crazy.

Imagine the worst person you know as far as being on time, and amplify that by 100. That's my boss. Plus she is a micro manager- so all the time she spends doing dick-shit, she compounds with worrying about what WE are doing instead of doing her own god damned job. Apparently, while she seems hell bent on making me an hour or so late every morning, she is there on average 4 to 5 hours finishing her shit. It's not fucking rocket science. Plus- it seems to be her favorite thing to interact with the residents as much as possible. That would be good- if I didn't work graveyard shift. These people need their sleep, and she gets in their grill any chance she gets. I pity new residents. Instead of getting in and out doing vitals- she stays in there most of the night bugging the fuck out of them moving their blankets, checking their skin, dicking with their pillows, taking notes... in fact I am not entirely sure what the hell she is doing more than half the time.

The last resident we had who was dying could barely get a moments peace because she was in there all the damn time. Good god! Leave her alone- she's dying- she hasn't eaten in 2 weeks, she doesn't need a fucking suppository, there is nothing to shit out! You don't need to take her blood pressure every hour- it turns her arm purple and she shakes too much to get a reading- bug the fuck off, lady. Of course these are all conversations I am having with her in my head. I would say them to her, but seriously- she has the worst case of selective hearing EVER. You can say it right to her face, and she only hears what she wants.

The real gravity of how much of a shit house crazy lunatic she is hit me full in the face this morning. I happened by a conversation she was having when I went to go ask her a question. I was standing there waiting, politely for her to finish her sentence, and had to bite my tongue when I realized she was discussing the book of Revelations. Specifically about how the Anti-Christ would come into the world... a charismatic man, a speaker who will draw the masses to him, a secular leader, etc. Oh, fucking awesome- bible talk. Just what I need at 3 a.m. Cue the big loony...She said because of all that she was afraid of President Elect Obama. See, when I happened on this talking point, I thought it was just biblical talk- then the whole Obama thing. She was also carrying on about "They say his views make him violent towards the unborn... " Now it is one thing to not agree with the policies of a leader... but she thinks he is the Anti-Christ and is genuinely scared he is going to "End the world."

Oh. God. I walked away, decided my question wasn't that important, and went to the bathroom so I could bang my head against the wall. I didn't know if I should laugh at how crazy she is to be believing and ranting about such a thing at work- or cry because I spend 90% of my nights working with this woman. Jesus Herbert Christ on a rubber crutch. How do I do this? Now this is but one example of the shit she does that makes me want to jam a butter knife through my temple... More to report on that later.

I'm baaaack.

What the hell happened?

When you have spent the last few months with your head on fire and your ass a'catchin...
Then one day, some event, or statement is made that makes you suddenly snap out of your haze for a minute, and come to a realization; and that realization turns your stomach in great nauseating waves... It occurs to you that you may have become "that guy", and you never saw it happen.

You know that guy, right? Nobody likes that guy. Now everyione has their own definition of that guy. Maybe that guy is the one who is a total asshole at parties, or she's the one who plays victim really well. Maybe it's that bitch who acts like the social butterfly, is up in everyone's business, thinks that baking cookies makes her a philanthropist, and she makes you want to kick kittens every time you hear her fucking shrill ass voice. Oh... how about that guy who always has one up on any story you tell- if you climbed a mountain, he climbed Everest. That guy is a prick.

Then... maybe that guy is that person who walks on eggshells, and totally sacrifices herself and her very foundation just to keep peace and harmony, as it is less trouble to just roll over than fight. You hate that guy (girl) because it makes no sense that she doesn't just stand up for herself- it would be better for everyone involved in her life. So, what if you suddenly get slapped in the face with the realization that you may become that guy? Because, you hate that guy... I mean, I hate that guy.

I have come to realize that I have spent how ever long the hairy-scary process of preparing to move and the move itself and the settling... and somehow I became the queen of patronization, pacification, and PUSSIFICATION. Peering back into the haze of the recent months, I seem to find way too many instances of me scrambling to smooth things over, calm things down, and blowing off my own anger or hurt after the issuance of a simple apology, though I am given no such quarter or luxury. Lots of memories now flooding in on me just letting shit go, and jumping in to play champion and hero and save the day with doing too much for everyone to keep everyone happy.

I think it was under the guise of keeping myself sane. Of course that is obviously a crock of shit- as it is just a slower more painful road to crazy. I have spent so much time and energy subconsciously doing that song and dance that I have tangled myself into a bullshit web. When you expend 90% of your time trying to stay out of your own way and others... you can't help but end up in knots at times. You impulsively act thinking you are doing things to "stay out of trouble", or "keep the peace", or, "Make him happy"..., and end up in a pile of shit anyway. Ever felt fucked no matter what you did or said? Live with that.

So... I am that guy. Fuck. So, uhm, now what? Revolt? Freak out? Kinda don't want to. It also occurs to me that the more I was guilty of this self flagellating crime, the worse I made it for myself. Forget not, we teach people how to treat us... and now not only have those in my life become accustomed to this behavior, but they respond to it by expecting more of it... So, one day I don't do it anymore- and the world falls to shit around me? I turn into the tyrant, the crazy bitch who ain't takin shit from no one... That's not gonna work. Talk to them about it? Yeah- right- well, if you knew them, you'd laugh too. I might as well talk it over with the dog. Here's the funny thing... I am scared to talk about it. I think maybe in some place, way deep down, they are waiting for the return of the bitch- so they are all ready with the big defensive if I start pacing in my cage. What sucks the most? Everyone else, while not happy, seems okay with things the way they are... But god damn- it's exhausting being that guy. The last thing I need right now is to be yelled at, or pacified. I am screaming on the inside- and maybe I realize now that I have been hating myself a little every time I rolled over. Killed myself a little every time I sat there jumping from one foot to the other trying to figure out which one wasn't going to make waves... It is no one else's fault that I started acting like a big fucking pussy, because it was easier than finding an answer to issues that worked for me as well as everyone else.

I want to fix this- but, what is fixed at this point? Damn it- I don't even know what I want!!! Validation may be a good place to start. Awesome- I'll take a dozen- how much will that cost, and where can I pick it up? I am not sure exactly what the fuck to do with myself just now... I have some shit to come to terms with in this rumpled up head.

...comments are closed for this one, because it ain't the kind of thing I need input about. Thxbai.

I am Job

So, I have spent the last week doing my training for the new job. First let me say how excited I am to not have been employed in the one kind of job that is so bountiful- the fast moving world of food service. I am lucky to not be flipping burgers.However this past week has been quite possibly one of the most boring. Ever. What's funny is that the lady who is training me knows it. I think she can see the torturous pain on my face each time she says it is time to do another "module"... e.g. I follow along as she reads the chapter. Seriously the most fucking boring week I have ever been paid for.

My first experience with the staff I will be working with was orientation day. An indepth overview of policy, law, procedure and finances... sign here, date here... rinse, repeat. It was in this room that I had to seriously question myself as they social worker- whom I really like- scared the ever loving piss out of me.

As I will be working with the elderly residents daily, ones who need at least some care- some needing total assistance with every aspect of their lives- there are things I can expect... Some of them have continence problems- okay, well, that I expected and doesn't bother me. They need help getting dressed and getting to breakfast- hell, some need help eating breakfast; again no big shockers there. Some of them have various kinds and stages of dementia. I expected that too- what I didn't expect was what that might mean.

She told us that we can expect to be pinched and touched inappropriately. Some days we may be cussed out, called names, and accused of the most horrible of crimes. We may be hit, kicked, spit on... or have bodily fluids flung at us. Whoa.. okay, wait...what? It had never occurred to me that someone who once may have been a teacher, a doctor, or a business manager might suddenly fling a cup of piss at me, or a gl;ass with their teeth might come flying at my head. Oh, I may have my ass pinched by one of the old men, but better that then him heaving a dirty incontinence pad at me. So, basically, we may (will) be abused because they don't know any better.

After having thought over my escape route carefully, right down to how long it would take me to hit the door screaming in abject terror, I opted to stay. The majority of the residents seem like really sweet people, with lots to give and share- when they are awake. I am sure it wasn't their choice to have their bodies fall apart to the point of needing help to take a shit. If anything it should make for some interesting days- with my sense of humor, making light of having someone's teeth thrown at my head could make for good blog fodder- especially if they leave a bite impression.

Damnit

Okay, okay... I know. I haven't posted. The highlights? They fucked up our travel pay, and yes, they are fixing it, but it did cause a new breakdown. We are still waiting on somebody at the claims office to call me to fix and/or pay for my broken shit... And boy, howdy, did we end up with a lot of broken shit. I am about to get mean and really loud with a few people, and carve some ass up for brunch. More on that as it develops.

We got a demon... I mean dog... I mean- demon in a dog suit. She is now 4 months old, and a complete little package of cute, little shit, and pain in the ass all neatly wrapped in fur. Her name is Miley (My Hannah Montana loving daughter named her. It was that or some terrible name I couldn't stomach.) Mostly I called her "NO". She has a bad case of "puppy stupid". More on THAT later too.

OH! I AM JOB. Yep. I have taken the new bull by the balls and become employed. I am getting my certification as a Nurse's Aide and I will be working at a nursing home. Good times. Money is nice. We like money.... I do anyway. I have met a few of the residents, and they seem like pretty sweet people. The people I work with are nice too... and it is close by. I am going to be part time, and work graveyard shift. (Although they don't call it "Graveyard" there, and I think I know why...) But I think it will work out nicely.

I will get set down this weekend and get some posting done. I have stories. I have bitches... what I lack is time. :)

Be Afraid

The kids started school this morning. We got them registered in the holy-fucking-shit-small town that we will be living in. We arrived about 320 minutes early, as naturally we would, being good parents and making sure to get pictures of them to embarrass the shit out of them in front of the soon to be new friends. Plus, we got another chance to cruise by the new house and take a look at it. It's really cute, and I am already planning some things that we can do with it to make it better.

Since we arrived about 20 minutes early I had time to walk around a little, ask some questions of the nice ladies in the office, and still make it back out in time to meet the cop. No, not a typo- THE cop. For the town. Yep. Nice guy. Full of information, and very active in the community. He asked us if we just got here, and of course, yes we did. Yessir- we're buying that house right over there... and then... I got scared. He said, "Oh. so you're the ones we heard about." Now he said it with a smile, and just as warm as you please...but... wait, what? HEARD ABOUT?! What. The. Hell. At this moment I was thankful that I was wearing sunglasses, cause I am sure my eyes were prolly as big as plates when he said that. He went on to mention that the Vet's club does BBQ events, and we live next door to the chief of the volunteer fire department, oh and they have an inspirational speaker coming to the high school next week- the whole town is really excited.

But, hold on there, chief, let's back up to that other thing you said. How the hell did anyone hear anything about us? Seriously, we had, before this morning talked to the whole extensive list of 2 people. One was the school secretary. One was the real estate guy, who, by the by, doesn't live in that town. We are the ones you heard about? Not that I imagine you heard much, but, I bet half the town already knows where we came from, how many kids we have, where we're living, and what we look like. You fucking HEARD about us?! Holy ass!

Give it a few months- you'll be hearing about that woman who writes on the internet, only shops for groceries on base, and doesn't make cookies for the weekly bake sale. So, um... yeah. I am, at this point, pretty scared shitless. I bet Aunt Bee is gonna bring us a casserole when we move in. How the hell am I going to DO this small town thing? How is the lady who likes the anonymity of city life going to cope with people being ALL up in my shit ALL the time- oh, and talking about it to other people to boot... and if I resist, I will be "that weird woman" on the block. How about when I hole myself in the house from November until April until that white shit stops falling on my head? Oh, or when we have a military guys type gathering in the house, and a buncha men show up with beer and stay late? Bet that'll make the front page of the Mayberry Rag.

It's not that the people I have met so far aren't nice. They are extremely nice. Very helpful and friendly- just as I kinda expected they would be.... but THEY HEARD ABOUT US?! A family of four moving in is "talk about it worthy"? Christ on crutches! Why??! My friend told me I should get a custom plate put on my car when I buy one. "LMTFA" Leave me the fuck alone. I think I am going to have to consider it.They won't know what it means, but I will, and that's enough.

Still going

Just for a heads up... still around. Still alive, and yes, still in transit.

The flight to the USA sucked, and right on schedule to piss me off, United dicked every way possible, including screwing up our seats, running late, making us miss a connecting flight and losing our bags... and those are just the highlights. More on that later.

We are currently staying with friends in Nebraska. It's nice. Quiet, relaxing, and family. Leaving here on the 14th will be the beginning of the last leg of crazy known as PCS.

today's big news: I called the school to find out about getting the kids registered for class there in ND- told the lady we were buying the house on Clark Street, she said "Oh, which one? There are two for sale over there." HOLY SHIT! Small town much? ZOMG! First purchase for new house? Privacy fence.

THAT is the question

So, in getting real about where we are going to live in BFE North Dakota, I have been weighing options. Being that the waiting list for base housing is 6-12 months, we are going to have to find someplace to live, even if it is temporary... and hey, I just happened to notice the economy is in the shitter! Not so good news for most- but with a stable job and income... it's a good time to consider buying a house. Prices are down, people are desperate to sell, etc.

We could rent. Find a place that is not the size of a refrigerator box with a washer and dryer, and who allow a cat... and looks like rent on such a place will run about $800+ a month. Now- even given a pretty shitty interest rate to account for us not owing anyone money... A pretty nice set up- like 2200 sq ft and a yard, etc will run $700 PITI... so... You can see why I am sticking on the idea of buying. We will be there for at least 5 years. Usually more than enough time for a recession to turn around, and fuck all, owning something there might make me like it a little. (Yes, I realize this is before spending my first winter in the middle of an iceberg landscape.)

But do I want to invest a substantial part of our life and heart into something? I can rip out the bathroom if I hate it... re do the floors... paint my fucking walls any god damned color I like!! Now I have noticed North Dakotan's like of painting walls red and putting up really ugly fucking wallpaper full of flowers and stripes... but I can rip that shit off and do my own thing if I own the place. On the other hand- if the toilet falls apart, or the outside paint looks like shit, I have to pay for it.

See, even thinking about it has my asshole all puckered up tight. This may be worse than wedding jitters... No.. yes...no... yes... Fuck it. I need a beer.

Racing

Holy sheep shit... 8 days until they come pack up the majority of our crap! Mind is racing, so instead of a big bitch fest about the move and my lack of preparedness... I have this laundry list of shit that I am happy about.

~No more AFN commercials. If you had ever seen a day's worth of this shit, you'd understand. The saddest part is when you realize that they pay people to write, record, edit and publish this retarded shit... It's positively depressing. My brain may never recover from 6 years of OPSEC, AAFES, depression awareness, suicide prevention, sexual assault, stress relief and commissary TV spots; oh- how about the "god" commercials-truly stupid shit; like they took those funny billboards about how he'll make rush hour longer, and twisted them into this pseudo religion ad- and forgot to make it funny.
Holy shit! I'll get to see a superbowl WITH commercials. On that note- more than 12 TV Channels. Now I'll have at least 150 to go around with and see that there is fucking nothing on. How glorious.

~The exchange rate will no longer be a spectator sport equally brutal as watching a rugby match. No more having to budget an extra 45-50% in order to eat out, fix the car, or buy something in town.,, and no more VAT forms. I will happily now fork over my 7% in sales tax dollars versus the paperwork and errand running for a 19% euro reduction in taxes.

~American doctors available off base. I can get a referral off base without fear of my lack of communication skills causing a rift in my medical care. I can go see a GYN- a female one even without being creeped out, and I bet I can get in without a 45 day wait. I might even have a choice of psychiatrists that don't sound and LOOK like Sigmund Freud giving me the brush off the the wiggins all at the same time... and I can call and change providers if I think my kid's doctor is an asshole for always being late without a bunch of bullshit, or being sent to another doc in the same office.

~I will no longer hate and dread grocery days because of the four story climb with 50 pounds of bags cutting the circulation off from my fingers, my legs shaking after trip three, and feeling wiped out by the whole ordeal.

~No more Sunday afternoons spent smelling the people downstairs... They like to grill on Sundays. They don't have a gas grill, and they are VERY fond of charcoal lighter fluid. Two hours every weekend, I teeter between retching and getting high off fumes. Perhaps I will give them our gas grill when we move... Cause they way they cook- can't taste very good- nothing hitting the tongue but flammable liquids.

~Should something break, need repair or need replaced- I bet I can find it in a store. Grill parts, furniture repairs, computer peripherals. I will be able to go out and buy printer ink- any time. Or fabric for sewing, and have it that day. No more waiting for shit to be shipped... OH- and we can have Dunkin Donuts coffee beans delivered, because there is no customs shitting on us. Oh, the glory of immediate satisfaction for a $2 part being there when you want to buy it. Need brake pads? How bout an alternator? Pep boys has it in stock- and they take core charges. Real acrylic nails, and Matrix hair care. Woot.

Shit... dryer is done. Must. Wash. Everything. 8 days. *8* fucking days.

3 Ring Circus

What was that old joke? I'm a frayed knot? Ever true to Murphy and Mistress fate, on the first day of summer vacation my car is dead. Now, no big deal as it is just the the battery, and is easily remedied. The reason the car battery is dead? My son went to my car last night to get something and left the passenger side door open... so... The kid is upset- because we can't go do our "first day of summer" celebratory lunch we had planned. The husband is upset, because he has no car, and has to find someone at work to come jump the piece of shit. Both children are upset because daddy is most unthrilled, and they know he will likely remain that way for the rest of the day. Needless to say, this is not the first time it has happened, so there is frustration all around. This is, in fact, the fifth time they have killed my car... last time was 2 weeks ago, so, not cool.

Yep- I'm upset too. Not just at the lack of a car, and my plans being fucked, but at the fact that everyone around me is in a state of agitation and turmoil. See, I had plans for today. Sort through the upstairs store room, go through our closet and arrange it into pack and carry shit, then head out for a late lunch with the kids. Now I have a pissed off man, upset boy and confused girl, (because at her age, everything is the end of the world). In the grand scheme it is a hiccup, a bump in the road, no big deal... but when my nerves are frayed at a fine thread it's little shit like this that makes me want to start pulling my hair out in great gobs.

I want to be concentrating on my shit-to-do list, and instead I feel the compulsive urge to play peacemaker... not for their sakes so much as my own. I can't make anyone unpissy, though, can I? It's dumb. I shouldn't try. I can't effect anyone else... seriously though- I just want everyone to shut the fuck up, have a coke and a smile. Pull into line with my thoughts and start running towards a common goal... together. In so much as I am not the first to go through it, and I know it is irrational, but I feel like I am going to be doing the majority of this shit alone.... Like- he is doing the paperwork, (most of it), and everything else- the meat of the move- is up to me, and me alone. Medical records, transcripts, sorting absolutely everything and making sure everything is ready. That's alot of shit for one person- well, at least for me.

I may look like I am flying through it all with grace, style and agility- let's just hope when this three ring circus is done, the lions are back in their cages, the clowns are not wearing the dancer's costumes, and I remember to pack the tent poles for the new town's show.

Tick Tock Bitches

July 2... that's 21 days from today, a handful of hard working, (and likely not so good smelling), Germans will come into my house and begin wrapping and packing my shit into boxes. On the 3rd, they'll be back to put all those boxes on a truck on it's way to North Dakota. Once more, on July 8th, a moving company will come to pack up the "have to shipped quickly" shit-like pots, pans, vacuum cleaner and toys- to cart them off to the new world by air freight. As of now, I have fed 11 bags of clothes to the recycle monster, and sorted the store room into one stack of stuff to keep, and a much larger pile of shit to get rid of. Many of the cabinets in the kitchen have a few less redundant dishes. All my fabrics and crafts have been binned, as well as all holiday decor.

Today, I will scramble to get much done in the house, while trying to find a little time to relax and enjoy the awesome quiet. Tomorrow, the children will be released early and set loose upon the neighborhood (and my nerves) for the summer.... Then the quiet ends. Not only will we be running to get all the paperwork and errands for the move done with one car, (we shipped one already), but I'll be having the divine pleasure of doing so with the kids in tow, bitching for ice cream and going home.

All this lovely running about like a crazy bitch has been the cause of my lack of posting and ranting here. I would love to have a temper tantrum and the nervous breakdown I desperately deserve, but I just haven't the time these days. I will write when I have the time... as it is, the precious few quiet moments I get are split between jotting notes, making plans, thinking entirely too much, and oh, yeah- trying to have fun with my family. God forbid I try to find not only the time, but the ambition for the simple carnal pleasures of marriage.

Seriously- this is the time when those who care for me should hit their knees and thank god for the miracles of modern chemistry and mood stabilizing meds. The chores call... I think today is linen sorting and trashing (bags 12 and 13). I'll get back here when I can.

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.

Materialistic Me

It took me a long, long time. I finally broke under Placebo's pressure and bought a Scooba. It is one of my favorite things. Ever. So thanks Pbo! Got me thinking- I have lots of fanfuckingtastic things that I can only highly recommend- you must go out and buy one of each right this second! Well, maybe not, but still.. Of course the first favorite being Scooba. It washes the floor. Simple as that. No mops, no bucket. It even sings to tell you it's done. How groovy is that? With all wood and white tile floors. Ah the exhilaration I get hearing it humming along in the kitchen.
My coffee machine rocks! In case I failed to mention it- I have a real thing for coffee. The only problem with I have with coffee is the seemingly inefficient speed of delivering caffeine to my system. The next best thing to a coffee IV bag is my fantabulous Saeco coffee machine. It grinds by the cup, so I never have to have the old sludgy coffee taste that had me wasting asstons of money by constantly making fresh pots. It was a present. It wasn't cheap, and we are gonna buy a transformer so we can take it with us to the states. It love it to death.
Cats... ups and downs- they never have to be walked, and for exercise all you need is a walnut or foil ball, a string, and a blanket. One of my cats has a thing for drinking straws. Cat+Starw equals hours of entertainment as she tries to figure out "How the hell did it jump under the T.V. like that when I hit it?!" The down side? Cats shit in a box. In the house. The box needs cleaned constantly. That's why god made littermaid. Okay, maybe god didn't make it- but it is a heavenly thing. It scoops and rakes the litter and dumps it in a closed bin. It works out for everyone. The cats always have clean sand- I don't have to see kitty-roca sitting in there waiting to be scooped by yours truly- let's face it, being stared down by a cat turd while on the way to do other chores is disturbing at best. Yes little bits of litter still get on the floor- see previous item called "Scooba".

Well, that's it for this installment of "go get you one". I'll find more to list... maybe a list of stuff I think sucks and wouldn't give away to an enemy.

Drive By

Okay, so I was looking in my comments, as I do daily, and see that I have a rather nasty comment left for me by some asshat named Kent Beckman. Now I know that is his name because he is one of those silly asses who uses hisname@yahoo.com. (Feel free to drop him a line!) He also either hit my site from a search engine and found a single page of my blog to loose his venom on- or he actually read almost 2 years in to my stuff before leaving his rather assholish comment.

So, as to not deprive the fucktard of his 5 minutes of fame, let me plaster his shit on my front page- as I said- feel free to shoot him a line at hisname@yahoo.com:

You are the most angry-evil bitch I have run accross in a long time. I think you should have to go live in the real world where couples each have a job and have to pay for health care. Where you have to buy groceries at market prices and pay taxes on them.
You are fucking spoiled. Who wants to fuck a snot nosed whiny bitch. Your old man must be hard-up or getting the real pussy somewhere else.
Do the world a favor and get those baby producing parts taken out, then you can find something new to bitch about.
Kent

And now- let me go ahead and reciprocate, you twat. First- learn to use your spell checker. Second- This blog is not for you. It is for me. It's kind of like therapy. My anger is better let go here than at the people around me.

You think we don't pay for health care? Hmm... well, albeit, our premiums are low for our coverage, and it is a great HMO- however- most people don't go to work knowing it is their job to take a bullet for a loud mouthed shithead like you, and most wives don't live with fear months at a time, scared to turn on CNN in front of their kids, because Daddy is "over there". I think we pay our dues.

And for the record- in the states, I did work, you dick, and when we go back to the states, I'll be working outside of the home again, you dick. When was the last time you lived in another country and had to find a job that paid well enough to cover child care, had decent hours, and still left enough money to make it worth it to blow a tax bracket- in another country?... no, likely you are a typical guy who doesn't give a second thought to other people who don't live in the United States.

Blah blah, market prices, blah blah... eat me. How about you get put on a controlled budget knowing you'll never make as much money as some guy in the same career field for 20 years on the outside. Most enlisted personal live rather modestly- it's called a fixed income... and our prices, like yours are going up too. Oddly, our salaries- like yours are not keeping up with the change.

So fuck you. You don't know me. All you know about me is that I have a place to vent my frustrations so I can show a happy face to the people in my life who matter. YOU are not one of them. I may put it out there- but it is usually more comedic relief than anything else. Sorry you weren't born with the intellect to decode a twisted sense of humor.You are an internet troll who has little better to do than worry about nickel and dime shit that is none of your business, and post venomous shit on someone else's page.

You're obviously a cock. Live day in and out with the same person for 12 plus years through the best and worst of times. See if you don't feel like blowing a screw or two loose. Live 3000 miles away from everything you know (that would be America, dumbass) for 6 years, lose family members to death in your absence, oh- and have your best friend of 15 years hang himself and not find out about it for weeks because they don't know where to find you. See if maybe you wouldn't find a blog to vent on for relief. Break your leg in three places, and live on the fourth floor of a building without an elevator. Have the friends you make pack up and leave and accept it as normal that you feel alone so often. I am quite sure a judgmental prick like you couldn't pull it off, even with a blog.

I wouldn't worry about my husband, or my pussy, or what we do with it for that matter. If you think that is all there is in a marriage, you are sadly misguided- it is the dishes, and kid's flus, and the laundry, and the car repair that makes the whole thing work- perhaps you've not had a relationship that didn't revolve around your hard dick... There is no need for him to go find pussy anywhere else, buster, he seems more than happy with what we've got.

I also went through a very long arduous time of suffering with uterine damage and excruciating pain- ending up having my "baby making parts" taken out. It was a really difficult time for me. Thanks for bringing it up, dickhead. I can only equate what I went through as you being kicked in the balls every 10 minutes for 4 days, and do it every 3 weeks. You'd shrivel your ugly ass up and die... but thanks for pointing that whole baby making thing out. Very classy.

Perhaps next you would like to counter by attacking people with Bi-polar disorder, and how they cope and live daily with a difficult and overly stereotyped disorder. Maybe one or two of them have outlets like, I dunno.. BLOGS maybe to work out issues. They put them in public because it helps them work through it by going back later, re-reading it, and seeing how other people responded- to put it in perspective. Maybe people like me need outlets so we can deal with assholes like you.

This is how you spend your time? Talking about other people's husband's fucking other women? What a twat. Well, there you go kentbeckman@yahoo.com, there's your fame and glory, e-troll. Have a fucked day. I shan't give you a second thought.

I didn't forget

April 12th was my best friend's birthday. I didn't forget. In fact, I have a gift for her, and was going to send it- but I hate the post office here and everything about it. Since I will be able to hand deliver it soon, I decided to hang on to it.. Cause it will be that much better to get to watch her open it. It's been six long years since we have sat together, had a beer, and laughed and cried til morning.

I don't have many friends, and though it sounds cliché to say I have acquaintances, but few friends. I can count on my fingers the number of real friends I have made, on one hand the number I have kept over the course of years. In almost all our years, we have had a total of 2 fights, of which only one was serious enough to cause a schism. It lasted a few months, and we picked up where we left off, as if it never happened.

So a little about her, this fabulous woman who shares half of my soul and brain. Heather. We have been friends for... (holy shit, lemme take a breath here, over feeling OLD)... Almost 19 years. We met sophomore year in high school, and it was hate at first sight. Let's see- she had on this designer suit, complete with pantyhose and matching heels and purse. Supermodel hair do, flawless makeup on this classic Victorian face. I saw her coming, shoes first, sitting on the bench in the gym. I was in a flannel t-shirt, ripped up jeans and hair pulled into a hasty pony tail. (I didn't do mornings then,either.) As I had just recently been displaced to Vegas from Scottsdale, I was rather defensive. From what we found out later, she saw me and felt equal disdain- the tom-boy who seemed to look more through her than at her; who didn't give a shit what she or anyone else thought. It took a badminton game in PE, and an offhanded, off-color comment about the very odd teacher some weeks later to kick things off between us.

Here we are eighteen plus years later, 6000 miles apart, and still joined together. Her mother fucking HATES me with a white hot passion. I take comfort in that-and maybe will dedicate an entire post to THAT story later. :) We also share a brain, and it drives our husbands bat-shit. The four of us go out, and they see the looks going back and forth. Most of the time, "I don't even have to say it". She just knows what I am thinking, as I do her. There were many times when we would have that "thing" going on- when across town from each other, I would call her because I knew something was wrong. She'd bump her head- I'd get the headache. Actually, I can see how it would creep them out.

A few more things about Heather...

~She's a fantastic dancer. I am a great singer- She can't sing, and my dancing looks like a seizure when compared to her. We don't give as shit, and do it anyway.
~An unshakable faith in those she loves, even if it is, at times, completely undeserved.
~Class. She holds her head up, even if swimming in a river of piss and looking for a tree.
~While I am the pragmatist, she is the dreamer and hopeless romantic. It works out for both of us. She keeps me dreaming- I keep her grounded.
~She taught me "Gracious under Pressure". i.e.- tact- tell them to go to hell in a way to have them looking forward to the trip... I taught her "FTFF". (fuck the fuckin fuckers)- i.e. Be yourself and if they don't like it, that's not your problem. She softens me, I toughen her, and between us a formidable strength I would not like to come up against in someone else.
~When our husbands are dead, we are going to buy an island somewhere... maybe roll old men for their money.
~Though she comes across as fairly serious, therein lies her incredible sense of humor.
~"Does this dress look okay?".. Her... "NO! It looks like shit! Take it off!"
~She is everything I am not, and the perfect compliment of my every facet.
~She gets me. What else is there? Totally and completely... she just...gets it.

I miss her terribly, even though I can feel her with me.
I could never forget her birthday- I just want this one to be a little special, even if forced by time and distance to wait a few more weeks.

Moment Over

Ha! That was short lived. The quiet is gone... that is not to say that my brain is back to chaotic. At least, not yet. It is however, more focused. Wow- this sleep thing is fucking awesome! Maybe I should be exhausted more often. Pushed to the brink of cracking up- .

Oh! Shit! I didn't tell you about Friday! K2 came home early so I could take his car to the pharmacy, as mine was still dead and pissed. His car was low on gas.. now I probably could have made it there and back on what was in there- but the stupid light came on, and in that gas hoggin' whore, I get really jumpy... so I stopped to fill it. Grabbed some adult beverage refreshments for later while I was there, and figured. no big deal- I have almost an hour to get there. Since I was just picking up an already filled script, that was time to spare. Cruised down to Ramstein, feeling better that I would be able to get my meds, and put a halt to this stupid shit cycle of zombie sleep deprivation.

UNTIL... Duh duh dunnnn.... I pull into the clinic parking lot, and it is empty. Empty at 3:45 p.m. On a Friday. So, it was apparently a goal day... or family day... or a training day... or whatever else kind of bullshit that I could not wrap my head around at that moment. They were obviously closed. Yes, I still felt the need to get out of the car and walk up to the door... go inside and hear the nothing inside the dark building full of closed doors and empty rooms. Crickets! Crickets, I tell you! Now, after almost a week of hardly any sleep, and the little bit I did get being broken into 45 minute chunks throughout the 3 or 4 hours I was laying there, I got a little emotional. I welled up as I waked back to the car- and sat in the driver's seat, in an empty parking lot, and had myself a good old fashioned crying jag.

Anyway, came Monday, and the opening of the pharmacy... and the first unbroken night of sleep in a week. Then the haunting quieting of my mind earlier. Remember how it sounded on September 12th? When there were no planes flying anywhere? It was eerie, but not in a way you could quite identify...? Well, that was what it felt like- in there- where the cobwebs live between my ears-. Now my mind is back at work- but it is calm. Almost orderly. Maybe I needed that crying fit in an empty parking lot.

Feeling out of focus, depressed, and majorly mindfucked? I have the cure! Sleep deprivation of at least 6 days, a mini-breakdown- complete with the self soothing of rocking and wailing like an Italian Widow- and then a good hard sleep.

You hear that?

It's quiet. There is a bit of sun steaming onto the floor, the cat is sleeping where he normally does- flattening my couch back with his crushing weight.. But it's unusually quiet. In the house, but more so in my head. Perhaps the side effect of the first full night's sleep in over a week. I wouldn't even say I am quietly contemplating things like I usually am prone to do in down times... it is just- blank. Sure, the look around brings the bits of "Gotta clean that", or "That needs to be thrown out." or, "We're out of milk.", but not the racing thoughts of moving, packing, orders, money, blah, blah, blah. stress. stress, stress. Don't get too excited- it's not a feeling of contentment, but contrarily wise, not depression either... it's actually a rather curious sensation. I feel like I SHOULD be working something out. I'm just not.

I was folding a basket of clothes when I realized it. First time I wasn't hating laundry- mostly because I was on some kind of auto pilot. Maybe this is the precipice before I get across to accepting, or even looking forward to the new home, new place, new something. Oh, you think maybe I am detaching from here? Because that is definitely worth celebrating. Motivation is often easier when I have a helping of "wanna".

I just feel mentally clear, now if there was just something to look at with this perceptual mind set. Odd that since I do the majority of running, calling, and resolution for the family that a moment of mental quiet would be so... disquieting, so much so that it makes me stop and take notice.

In fact, now that I am putting it into words, yeah, maybe... yep... it feels like being okay with all this shit I having been beating my head against for months. The move, the cars, the kids social speed bumps, the stateside family stuff, the money pinching... No, still not shit hot on the idea of flat ass cold North fucking Dakota, but I am sure I have been through worse. Christ on Crutches! Now we're getting somewhere.

I think I'll go have a bubble bath. I could go sift paperwork, make phone calls, or something productive, but right now- it can wait. Why waste an enchanted moment of mental peace?

Define: Bad Week

It's not over yet, is it? This week I mean. Let's review, shall we?

With Monday came the break of my son's fever! Yay- he can go out to play... That's where the good part ends. As Monday also brought my white knuckled visit to the dentist. Beyond the fact that I have a suspicion of anyone who wants to stick their fingers in other people's nasty ass mouths for a living, the smell of a dentist's office puts me on the verge of throwing up all over the nice clean floor. Plus- I was sporting the fever my son gave me for a weekend present, including headache and sore throat.

And What. The. Fuck is up with the dental industry? After how many years, could they MAKE a variable size to those damned Xray slides so they don't cut up the mouth of anyone not sporting the mouth of a barnyard mule?! My BP was through the roof (well, 120/80 is through the roof for me). Not only did I get the supreme pleasure of being in there on Monday- but I have to go back.
Appears I have other fillings also crumbling from same said previous asshole dentist who put in the one that has already fallen out... and I have what she says looks like a NEW cavity in one of my teeth. FUCKING JOY. So- we'll be back in the chair again- and we will be sedated- or we will likely bounce off walls and end up hiding in a closet like a stray cat.

Ah- Tuesday. Can't bitch much about Tuesday- other than the kids doing the usual song and dance of fuck around, fuck around, fight. Looked in my pill bottle Tuesday night, and to my chagrin see that that was indeed my last pill. Fucketh. Tried to call the refill line, and it was, as usual, not working... so I figured I could go on ahead and call the next day and go pick them up. Kev took the kids out for awhile, and they got to spend the allowance cards. They came back home, joyful, full of glee and really noisy. We all know what I fan of noise I am.

Wednesday rolls up, call the pharmacy, and get told my refill would be ready tomorrow. Not in the mood for an argument, and as it is just for my Ambien, I say okay, fine, whatthefuckever. Then I spent 2 hours in the kitchen cleaning. My stove sucks- it's an electric piece of shit range, and there are these spots between the burners and range top that have black shit in them. I can't get it out- so I think- Hey- I'll pull the burners out, so I can clean the edges. Ambitious, yes? Once I finally figured out how to lift the range top, I found I can't take off the burners to clean out the black shit caught in the cracks. I was genuinely dismayed for about 2 minutes.
I thought about attacking the mini blinds, but screwed it off in lieu of the walls instead. Just wanna extend one more thank you to the fucktards in housing who thought filling a FAMILY (ie, kids and mess) housing unit with pure white tiles on both walls and floors was a great idea. Good call there, are-tards. Top notch thinking.

Here we are. It's Thursday. Note- I was up until 4 a.m. Two reasons for that- one, I was helping deal with some drama within our little gaming community. Drama and gaming may not seem to go together, but get a group of 100 people together and you are bound tp have shitheads involved. As most of them are in the states, and it is something I committed to, I was around. Didn't mind a bit... plus, I wasn't much feeling like sleeping- as when I go a few days without Ambien, my schedule likes to reset itself to insane.

Onwards... I get up around 10ish to spend about 30 seconds talking to the hub, and start the pounding of coffee and aspirin. Called the pharmacy to make sure refill is ready, and woohoo- it is. Called the "sick fucks who put fingers in mouths for money", or as you might say- the dentist- to schedule the appointment for further torture. Nothing available.... They told me to call today to make this appointment, and there are none. Guess I can call again tomorrow- at this rate I'll get on the goddamn airplane to move the same day as my drill-n-puke.

The kids and I decide we'll go out for a late lunch and errands. Awesome, gave me a few minutes to grab a quick nap before showering and war-painting of face to hide jumbo-tron zit on my chin... and the little girl wanted to lay down too. We cuddle up under soft sheets and warm blankets for a nap. It was sweet and pleasant. 25 minutes later, the doorbell rings. It was one of their friends- (the same one who had come by at 10:30 when I had one eye open to ask if they could go out)- He again wanted to take them out to play. Told him we were napping and would be going out later, so they would be around after that.

My sweet darling daughter tried, but was unable to get back to sleep after the door disturbance, so she got up. 10 minutes later the little "angel" was in there trying to talk to me in my nearly comatose state. SHe came in every 10 minutes there after... like a walking snooze button. I finally asked her, "Do you remember Mommy setting the clock alarm?" She nods. "Okay, then why are you in here trying to wake me up?" She didn't know... seriously she said, "I don't know." I looked at the clock. I had 15 more minute left of the hour and fifteen I had set forth with in the beginning of the nap fiasco, so I said fuck it, and got up. Back to coffee and aspirin pounding on the way to the shower.

Get naked, get clean, get dry, get half dressed. Here's a secret about Freud- she puts on her pants, socks, shoes, bra... and then does her hair and face... In a bra. Whilst trying not to stab the mascara brush into my eye, I was listening to my son call my daughter a "big butthole", and my daughter freak out because the socks she had didn't feel right on her feet. The fucking doorbell again! So much for not sticking the make up in my eye. The same boy was at the door again, asking for them to go out and play again... and my son tells him, "We are leaving in a few minutes". The little basta... um... boy pops off with, "JEEZ! How long does it TAKE?!" Had I not been standing in afore mentioned bra ensemble, I would have gone to the door and said something unnecessary and evil to a child that is actually a good kid, and one of the few I approve of being friends with my children.

Hey- we gotta go, right? Daughter can't find her shoes, her hair still looks like a mop, I can't find my fucking checkbook, son pissed at me that I won't let him take a football to the pharmacy to play with while we wait... get hair done, find scattered shit, grab needed items, we're on our way! WEEE!

We whisk out the door, and pile into the car- cue obviously necessary monkey shit fight over who sits in what seat in the car. Once asshatery is quelled, it's time to go. Insert key, turn key... nothing. Hmm... clutch in, check. Brake on, check. A/C, lights, and radio knobs set to off, check. Turn key again, get sickening click and silence of a dead battery. Had I tried to cuss the car out, I wouldn't have been able to- even I can't verbalize that many dirty words that fast... and I didn't want to scare the children. Back upstairs, take a deep breath, and call hubby, and leave message about dead car.

The kids are outside playing with their friends, the husband is on his way home, and the fucking cat just hocked up a hairball on the floor. Can't wait to see what Friday has in store, but I think I may go get some beer... been a long time since I have had a nice cold one, and I think I will appreciate it. God knows I don't have time for the nervous breakdown I so desperately deserve.

Go Help... Or Else

A fellow blogger in our little corner of the internet is now fighting her third battle with fucking cancer. There is a fund to send her to Disneyworld. I am a big believer in the Magic of Disney. There is truly nothing like it. Head on over and donate what you can today. Thanks.

No Fucking Coffee

Monday was a fairly shitty day all around. We can start with Sunday night, actually. Rachel came out here at midnight and told me she had a headache, so I gave her some water and sent her back to bed. She got back up at 3 a.m. looking like she had been hit with a ball bat. I got to bed soon after that, just KNOWING shit would hit the fan in the morning with her, and that she'd be sick.

Monday morning we wake bright and early (a mere 4 hours after going to sleep) to one child puking and a fever of 103.1, one coughing his guts out and 102.7. The Hub had his PT test, and when he came home a few hours later, he was broken; as in broke, as in hurt, and pretty much more of a household patient than helper. Oh, and we were out of coffee beans for my super coffee-o-nator, so I was hunting around in vain for the components to the old coffeepot. No coffee. Fan-fucking-tastic!

Called the school, and spent the better part of the day running back and forth between the bleating calls of, "MOOOOOMMMMM....?" and sending them back to bed, squelching the bickering of what Disney movie to watch, and who got to use the bath tub first... (and no fucking coffee.) Tried to run the vacuum and got yelled at by the kids for making too much noise. Tried to take a shower, and had to rush it, as I couldn't be in there 3 minutes without a crisis calling me forth. Couldn't go to the store to get medicine- oh, and I was almost out of smokes too for those few minutes I could steal away to go out on the patio. Still no fucking coffee.

Mid-day, I was stealing a minute to eat something, when I felt a crunch that shouldn't be there. Hmm.. could be something new they added in lunch meat- but then... no. A piece of my filling had broken out of my back molar. Fucking awesome. (And no fucking coffee.)

So here it is a week later- one child went back to school on Wednesday- the other has missed an entire week of class, and still has a fever- it's like the never ending ick. Ever had a kid with a fever for 6 fucking days? They get irritable not only from feeling like shit, but from being restricted to bed or the couch for a week. (How about a wife dealing with a sick kid for 6 fucking days? Pity the husband.) We've been to Peds- for nothing, except the bastard being typically late, and as unhelpful as usual. He didn't offer me coffee, either, just a healthy shovelful of bullshit, as if I were one of his typical panicky mothers.

More of my filling has turned to bits everyday, and only about 50% of it is in tact. Makes me hate the son of a bitch dentist years ago who put it in when I asked for Silver and he said he doesn't do that At the time he said this white shit was safer. Safer for who? The poor bastard who has to go in and replace it and pray my dental-phobic ass doesn't bite his digits off?. Fuck wad- my silver fillings are 25 years old and still there- this one? Well- about 8 years old and falling apart.

I missed a dental appointment I made when I was sure this thing would have run it's course by week's end, my son is still febrile, coughing and miserable. Husband is still broken, and the daughter is grumpy because her big brother can't go out to play with her.

At least I finally got some coffee.

How Do They Find Me?

Okay... seriously- be afraid. These sick fuckers walk amongst us. How do these bastards find MY site interesting? If they are looking for that kind of trash- what would prmpt them to think, "Hmmmm... maybe I'll go read THAT." Ick.
Anyways- the search engine hits for this month...

**what stores sell freuds therapy eight ball **
Freud used a Magic 8-Ball for diagnosis? WTF?
**vogelweh whore house **
Hmmm... must be moving here soon, huh, pal? Don't think there is a whore house, but you can do what the other guiys do- go pick up the skanks in the local bars.
**military wife pap smear how often?**
I can't imagine why you think that military wives get more or less pussy check ups that other girls...
**water smells like corn **
Dude... write me to tell me where you live. I never want to go there.
**vista = the biggest pice o-shit ever**
Couldn't agree more, even if you can't use the spell check function.
**kidnapped tortured balls busted**
I thought I had a tough life. Seek Therapy.... From somewhere else.

And now we get on to the really sick fuckers that scare us all... because they could be your neighbor or co-worker... And their searches defy logic. These bastards should not HAVE computers.

**husbands boss cock**
Either you and your husband need couples counseling and therapy, or your old man works for a chicken farmer.
**she saw my camel toe when spanked**
Get some better fitting pants before engaging in S&M, or any ass beating activities.
**suck ass next erotic story**
I feel like this was prompted by an incomplete thought... and drugs. ALOT of drugs.
**job girls fuck by masters/owners**
What in the hell is a job girl? Regular SM&B not enough for you, dude? They DO have videos out there for pervs like you- but why did you come to MY site looking for them?
**spanked in my old school uniform by mom**
Hello, Jerry? Jerry Springer? Is that you?
**wife hates fistfuck**
I am gonna have to go with your wife on this one, guy, sorry. Seriously. Maybe if you let her ram a golf club or bowling pin up your ass, she'd be more receptive.
**how to get your wife to fuck another man**
Show her the shit you surf for on the internet... she'll divorce you and be off with another guy in NO time.

There are two I will be abstaining from posting as they are really disturbing- and I may contact my hosting company to see if the IPs should be turned in to law enforcement for investigation. Seriously. Really fucked up shit that I can not abide. In any case...

What is the most bazaar thing you have searched for on the net?

Credit Sucks

~The financial panties of America are wadded. While it has sent our gas prices up quite a bit, it doesn't affect us much yet... yes, our COLA is staying right where it is, as prices in America rise, but we don't shop off base, and we don't buy much extra stuff, or eat out often... So, other than watching the government run the dollar into the dirt like a spectator sport, it phases me very little.

We don't have a house and mortgage, and I don't see us having one for quite some time. Good thing- as I have found out our credit sucks. Not because we are in debt up to our ears, but because we don't owe anyone any money. We get paid, we pay our living expenses, and we put some in savings. I don't write out checks to Visa and Mastercard every month... and when I see people on TV with $50,000+ in credit card debt, I sit here with a really puzzled look on my face. How does one spend that much money that they don't have? How does a bank keep giving them MORE money that they don't have if they can't afford what they already have- and yet if I were to ask that same bank for a credit card, they shit on me and laugh me out the door?

We have one credit card with a really low limit- basically enough to buy a set of tires if they explode- and it has a balance of around $20. We have no car loans, no rent, no store accounts, and no lines of credit. All of our money is ours. It is for school lunches and gas and groceries... not AMEX or a GM car loan.

Somehow this makes us a bad risk... we have to owe money to borrow money. So to get a good mortgage rate in a few years, we have to borrow money right now that we don't need, so we can pay back more than we borrowed... for money we didn't need in the first place. What. The. Fuck. Oh, and the fact that we are military works against us, not for us, even though being military would make it EASIER to track us down than Joe Blow Asshole if we did default. Really makes no fucking sense- but I guess that's business.

It sucks.