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.

Terra What?

First off, I don't know what the fuck a Terra Nova test actually does. I don't know what function it serves other than to pigeon hole kids into... fuck I don't even know that. I assume it is like the third grade equivalent of the SATs... but then I wasn't required to take the SAT, I had to give up a Saturday morning for the SATs. It is my assumption Terra Nova is part of the testing schools give kids in order to make sure they are getting their funding by meeting quotas. One site says... "Terra Nova is a standardized achievement test designed to provide achievement scores that are valid for most types of educational decision-making." So... is that on a school wide scale, or do they use his score to help him? It's somewhat vague at best. I bet it is part of that bullshit "No Child Left Behind" piece of bloated horseshit legislation that helps fewer kids than previous educational plans ever did. I would like some clarification of how these scores will be used to help the individual students once the results are calculated. In so much as I have found- the states make the tests... hmm... too many years of kids scoring poorly- they make the tests easier, or completely revamp the educational system to teach more or better? (Some kind of who-do about AZ from scanning the google results) It's a mind screw for sure.

In any case, they are having terra nova testing this week for my son. They had practice tests for it. The teacher sent home notes to remind us to give the kids "good breakfasts" with protein, and told us to send snacks and water bottles. (Shouldn't they encourage that every day?) The notes home asked for ensuring good sleep too. Shit, with all that, makes it sound pretty fucking scary. Like they are preparing for some kind of kiddie brain marathon.

Unfortunately, my son is not there. He is in bed, sick. A new form of crap is floating around the schools. In fact two weeks ago the school nurse sent out a letter because assclown parents were dosing their kids with Tylenol in the morning to mask fevers and symptoms and sending them to school. (Notice I used the word "mask" there? Hiding a fever or pain does not cure it.) Fucking stupid ass parents using the school as a daycare, and infecting my family with some creeping funk. The letter from the nurse said that there were kids coming into her office, not only with colds, but STREP and fifth's disease. Fucking FIFTH'S DISEASE?! (That's human Parvo, by the way.)

So, the boy-o is home for the second day in a row. The woman in the school office said a lot kids are out with it- including her own. I called Peds to try and get him in and they have no appointments today- go figure since so many kids are ill with the disease du jour. So it's a triaminic day, thanks to fucking asshole parents sending their gutter rats to school sick because they won't call their boss and stay home.

Maybe I can use the time to figure out what the fuck these tests are really for, as he will spend the better part of next week doing make up tests.

What I Know So Far

I have a list! It's a list of shit to get done- in the near future and for the next 2 or so months... knowing me, approximately 50% or more will go forever undone, unstarted and will eventually be deemed a "fuck it" project, and unworthy of bothering with it.

Scanning website after website for information, I have come to some conclusions.
~Few Realtors in the US know about Grand Forks, ND.
~98% of he Realtors who work in Grand Forks ND don't know or give a shit about the internet
~Landlords in Grand Forks ND are out to fuck the military with rent rates twice that of the mortgages- (Yes, PITI)- on their homes.
~Home and Apartment builders in Grand Forks are not so good at square footage, and/or privacy, building and renting homes with a different family on each floor, giving them all of 1000 sq feet to themselves and some shared facilities.
~They are also not big believers in washers and dryers coming with the rental home... I did see one who had a coin operated washer and dryer in the basement. (Using quarters to do clothes in my own basement? WTF?
~Landlords in Grand Forks hate animals and pets.

I have gotten in touch with some people in the housing office there in El Grande Forko- and they are sending me some information on the base housing, and the off base housing that we will no doubt be living in through the 6-12 month waiting list. Now I am beginning to mind screw on what we need to put into storage when we leave so we don't end up walking on our furniture to get from one end of the house to the other until we can get on-base housing.

I have many phone calls to make. Calls to property managers who will tell me anything I want to hear if they think they will be getting a nice finders fee. Fuckers. Calls to the base offices about having the kids in school on base as they will be making a hard adjustment, not only from overseas but from a DoD school. Calls about medical care- especially a good shrink- God knows I am gonna need one after this...

In the mean time, I am going through the "extras" closet and vacuum bagging shit we keep, marking shit we sell, and tossing shit we don't use. I know I will end up getting there this summer, looking for something I got rid of and cussing myself out, but fuck it. I want it gone. I may even list some of the shit here- free to good home etc. Anyone in the market for an assload of little girl's clothes?

Experiment

I have signed up for The Great Interview Experiment. I am being interviewed by Squeaky Wheel, and I am going to be interviewing Lara. Think this is going to be fun. I will be posting up the results later this week when the interview is done.

In other news... Today's maximum pain in the ass is going to the commissary. Now, I fucking hate shopping. Food shopping less than most, but I hate it nonetheless. Why nor put it off another day? Because it is Thursday, and tomorrow is payday. That translates to "tomorrow and the rest of the weekend that place is going to be a swarm of chaos". Last time I was stupid enough to go on a payday weekend, I was so fucking pissed off when I checked out that I entertained the thought of ramming the shopping cart into several patrons on the way, laughing maniacally like a B movie serial killer.

What had me so ready to start painting targets on other shoppers? Well, the other shoppers... Look prick- I came here to get my shit and go- I don't want to stand there behind you while you catch up on old times with your girlfriend in the middle of the god damned isle. You wanna have a bullshit session- pull it the fuck off the road. Don't stand there talking with your hands, throwing your head back in laughter and having the time of your life, while my fucking ice cream is melting in my cart, you gabby bitch.

Then there is Mrs. Smith- the resident asshat parent. She may be the gabby bitch at the same time- who let's her kid out of the safety of the shopping cart seat to run amuck in the store isles. She spends more time chasing the little shit around then she does shopping.... and when I am walking the aisles, nothing is more nerve wracking than to nearly run down a child acting like a chimp, only to have his mother whip her head around from label reading and then decide to correct him. My fucking favorite was the mom who tried to tell her brat, "Dylan come here!" and the defiant little bastard, I shit you not, said, "NO!" and sat right down. On the floor. In front of my cart. Did dumb bitch come pick him up and put him in the cart? No. She opted instead to continue to try and talk him into standing up and getting out of the shopping traffic.

So, as you can well see, I am no fan of shopping- especially payday weekend- as sheer laws of averages applied to the situation dictate that there will be more stupid bastards out than in the middle of the week. Did yu need me to pick up anything while I'm out?

Scary Questions

Anyone who has been on over to Avitable's site knows what a great guys he is... and a total fucking nutter to boot. Now, a ways back while in the midst of my harried horseshit, I had signed up for him to question me. I am going to post and answer his questions. If easily offended, you may wanna go on ahead and hit the next link in your blogroll now.

1. Since your name evokes thoughts of the founder of psychoanalysis, do you
think a cigar is sometimes more than a cigar?

~What could be wrong with a large, foul smelling, phallic object that people like to put in their mouths, and not inhale? I just think Cigars are nasty- like being around someone lighting up and smoking a turd. If Monica was a nasty enough woman to let him put that cigar up there... then she must be one of those nasty whore's who could give a "suck the chrome off a trailer-hitch" blow jobs.

2. Following up on that, I had a dream the other day where I was
masturbating to goat porn while floating in a pool of honey next to a yellow
tree that had boobs. What does that mean?

Okay, Smart ass... Yellow- in positive context is a clue of contentment (think daisies), in a negative context, it represents cowardice, lack of ability to make decisions. Goats are seen when you feel gullible, and have a lack of judgment... I think you are having second thoughts about screwing that tree, pal. I would have to recommend against it- penis splinters could be painful.

3. What's your worst trait and how does your husband put up with it?

My worst trait is... shit, how do I pick... I am a rock. That is to say- on the outside. I hold it together, be strong and smile through it. Inside I am falling apart at times, and when these two things come to odds with each other, the rocky outside starts to fracture. I become very emotionally delicate, and pushed the wrong way, I either start crying- or I fucking explode leaving a path of destruction in my wake.
Frankly, I have no idea how he puts up with it. Maybe because I am an excellent cook, make him laugh and give good head, and I only turn into a fucking lunatic about 3% of the time. He loves me...

4. I read a rant about buying nice clothes and putting stock into
appearances. My wife alternates with trips to Paris and Los Angeles each
year to go shopping. Do you hate her?

No. Well, yes. No- she can do whatever she wants... Then again... YES.
She is feeding into the idea that someone else's name on her ass makes the jeans somehow look better.
If she is walking around in a pair of threadbare walmart sweats, and a wife beater without a bra.. do you want to throw her on the living room floor and give her 3 day rug burns just as much as if she were wearing a thousand dollar ensemble? Yes?
Knowing she is your wife, she must have an awesome rack and nice ass, and be the epitome of gorgeous... do you think she needs Manolo printed on the inside of her shoe to look yummy to you? Would she be just as fuckable if it said "Payless" inside her heels?

5. Why is the military such a bloated mess? Do you ever get tired of
seeing it chew up and spit out good people who don't deserve it?

The military is a mess? Fuck me! Seriously? It is a bloated mess because the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing, and sure as fuck doesn't want it to find out. Every politicain in Washington is pushing to get their own little bit of policy passed. In the mean time, the things that are fucking useless keep getting pushed, and issues that could actually help are tabled and ignored to death.
When it comes to the guys who are out here... most of them are just like you. Making a living for a paycheck, and some days they hate their jobs. Some think the company and bosses they work for are micro managed and ruined by a gaggle of asshats, just like the real world... only we make less money for it, and can't say fuck it and quit.
As for feeling bad for the guys who get chewed up and spit out... that is like feeling bad for stupid teenage girls who get knocked up, and then keep their babies. They go out and have sex to make them feel like grown ups, and have kids, when they aren;t really ready to be grown ups.
They hear the stories about what it is like., but think it can't be that bad. It will be different for THEM. If they are fucked in the head enough to make a poor uninformed choice about their lives- fuck em. The military is great for a lot of people. It sucks for a lot of people. They should look before they leap. Not like they were fucking drafted. At least- not yet.
Dumb fucks are everywhere... ever notice the management in your company seems to be made of up of assholes and retards? The military is no different... we just have fewer options to remedy the problem thanks to over written rules, regs and red tape. That's where the bloat comes from.

How did I do?

Makes you wonder

Here I sit folding laundry... And in my channel surfing, I come across the movie "Awakenings", starring Robin Williams. It is one of my favorite movies. True story about a Dr. Sayer and his work with patients institutionalized in a mental hospital in a persistent vegetative state, and how his therapy was able to wake them for a few days, and a much sadder darker note of how these people are IN THERE. There is a consciousness- a frightening thought. They had an episode of "House" awhile back too where they woke a vegetative patient with Dopamine treatment. They are somewhat aware of things- they know time has passed, but not how much. They know they are in a hospital, but not why. They can pick out voices, and faces, but can not tell you how.... I digress.

It got me thinking, while in my laundry folding boredom... If it were to happen to you, to go into a persistent vegetative state, and then you could be awoken for a few days, what would you choose? Not saying life or death- this isn't a Teri Schaivo question... But if you could be woken up for a few days, completely sentient and in control of your faculties for a short period of time, what would you want to come back for? It's a hard question, no? You only get one shot at a few days of living... so what do you choose? Your son's graduation? A birthday? Your daughter's wedding? Or never...?

As for me, I find it to be a difficult question to ponder. My little girl's wedding, perhaps. My son's graduation from high school or college. To be there on one of the happiest days of their life, and let them know how proud I am. What about the people in your life? What would be the one most important thing they could have you back for?

Yes, yes, it is all a hypothetical thing, right? Far be it from me to have normal thoughts. Welcome to the world of bipolar. :)

Discuss.

Need Vent, Will Pay

Now, this isn't to say I am done on my sabbatical... cause I'm not, but I do need a place to vent a bit, and as I am paying way too much fucking money for my web hosting, I may as well use it. Perhaps this could be a chronical of my mental funk... and a trash dump for it.

Funk. Yep, that's about what I would call it. Not quite a depression, and not a mania either. Just this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. If it is stress, then it is massive amounts of stress, and it seems to be eating away at all the little things... gnawing at the edges.

~The Boy~
My son has had some trouble at school. Started with a "boys will be boys" incident in the classroom, involving my kid and the boy he has been in and out with since Kindergarten. Now, this kid is okay, I suppose... but him and the boy-o are either the best of friends or the worst of enemies. Having them around each other all day, everyday of school for the last 4 years has always resulted in some kind of bad ju-ju. I did mention it to that fucking whore bag principal last year, and she didn't seem to think it an issue... and despite a new principal this year, they are in the same class [i]again[/i]. In any case, my son and this boy got rowdy in the classroom- and decided to do so with pencils in their hands, which made it a BIG offense, as they were using the pencils as "weapons". They got suspended, and in big, big trouble.

The following week, I got an email from his teacher, saying he wasn't staying focused in class, was staring off or wandering around the room. SHIT!! A second call from the principal was from another kid starting a fight with my son, and kicking him and the like. My kiddo reacted by pulling the kid's hat down over his face- which wasn't so bad... But my son DID start the fight in the first place by taking stupid fucking pokemon cards to school. He knows WAY better than that- and all pokemon/yu-gi-oh cards have been ripped from his possession. My third call this week from the school was a result of him horse playing and a little girl falling down as a consequence. Because of the last few weeks, he has no leeway to fuck up and even small infractions result in a phone call from the school, and my heart sinking into my asshole in 2.5 seconds flat.

Now we have been taking drastic measures to help correct the problems here at home... this last phone call resulted in him coming home to a stripped room... no TV, Computer, Xbox.. I even tore the posters off the walls. He has a bed, clothes and books- and an extended chore list. He is on a tight leash, and can earn his things back a little at a time. I hope it works, I can't think of much else to get it into that thick child head of his that being good and doing the right things result in good results, and bad things result in bad results. We have been telling him since he was three to keep his hands to himself, but somehow it is not getting through.

~The House~

What a fucking mess. I feel like I can't catch up. I have managed to sort through all of one room. July is gonna sneak up on me in no time, and I for some reason, with four plus months to work with, feel a panic creeping in. I have read that a move is second only to the death of a loved one in stress factor.. and we ain't talking about packing up a u-haul to go across town here. This is a family of four, plus 2 cats, going 5000 miles to a place we know dick-shit about. Each and every room needs picked through with a fine toothed comb to rid us of any excess old shit that I have no interest in keeping much less taking with us. On the up side, I am starting to feel the motivation to get going on it. Maybe it was the stripping of my son's room, but other than the store room and the hauling of SO much shit to the dumpsters, it is starting to feel less daunting. The rest of this move thing... well, still feels like dog shit.

All I do know for sure is that I saw a stateside weather report the other day and burst into tears. It was -22 degrees in Fargo. MINUS FUCKING 22. Now, maybe I am crazy, but that sounds pretty god damned cold. That sounds so fucking cold that it is unbefuckinglieveable. So, anyways- crying jag on demand, just add weather. It only got worse when they switched over to the weather around home, and it was 68 and sunny. I sat for for at least an hour, sniveling like a little bitch. Maybe this will be what I look back on and call my self-pity phase, but I am not at a point where I am okay with this whole thing. I am pretty fucking far from okay, okay?

Even little things to do with this transition are bugging the piss out of me... Example... I have to go to the dentist for clearance on my health, and such. I am phobic about the dentist. Makes me want to bite the fuckers fingers off. I white knuckle the whole exam- seriously- the smell of a dental clinic brings me to the brink of gagging my guts up in the lobby. God forbid if I need any work done. They better have a tranq gun in the cabinet.

But it is the little things like that gnawing at my brain in the back ground. Getting the orders, getting put on the base housing list, and formulating a back up for living arrangements... Exams, vet certifications for the cats, immunizations, school transcripts, getting this place ready to be packed, then having it spotless to pass inspection, shipping the car, and where to...

Trying to slot some time to go home in between, as I haven't been home, (that's Vegas, btw) in six fucking years. I haven't seem my girlfriend in 6 years, my best friend is dead and have yet to visit his grave to pay my respects. Going home for at least a few days is a priority for me. Mom wants to help out with the kids, and take them for a week or two when we get there, and we have to work out a plan for that. Do we fly to Vegas and she comes to get them? Or do we fly into LAX, and have the car shipped there, so we can pick it up and drive to Phx, she comes and gets the kids- then we go to Vegas, then meet back in Phx to get the children then drive a LONG ass way to North fucking Dakota... Or fly to Tucson, rent a car spend a dyay or two- then drive to Vegas, leaving the kids behind, and later put them on a non-stop flight, gate to gate with the airline's children's flying program thingy? FUCKIN A!!

Yes, yes... it will inevitably all fall into place and work itself out... but I am a grown up now, and I don;t want to get there with the mess and disorganization we came to Germany with. Granted we had all of 4 days from orders being cut until we got on the plane, and that made things a BIG mess... I really don't want to fuck this up, and NEED to make the moving part as easy as possible, so I can handle the inevitable emotional fallout out when it happens. Both mine and the family's. Not only am I scared about the move itself, and where we are going- but I am scared that the move itself will not go well, and make it harder.

So yeah... That's why I haven't been prolific in my writing. When you have thousands of things going on in your head, it is not so easy to pick one or two and write about it. Like trying to pick a single voice out of a crowded room. Being bi-polar makes things just a little more difficult.

So back to your regularly scheduled Freud-free sabbatical... maybe.

Sabbatical

I am taking an official break from this blog. As I haven't written in it for a while anyways, It should come as no surprise.
With less than 5 months until we move, and all the stress that goes with it... My son having problems in school, managing money for the move, etc. I don't have the energy nor inspiration to keep this up for now.
I'll be back at some point, just... not for awhile.

Kids and Sex

A few months back- we did a rudimentary overview of sex... Kinda like "Where Babies Come From for Beginners". As the kids are 7 and 9- we kept it remedial, and mostly biological, as the finer points of sex, love, dickheaded boys and such is best saved for slightly later. The gist of of it seemed to get through though- babies come from sex, when a mommy and daddy get body parts together.... blah blah blah. We will continue to reinforce it as they get older, and bring them to bits of it as they get ready.

As I was sitting here last week, my daughter walks up to me out of the blue and (shit you not) says, "Mommy, how do you have two kids?"
..."What?"
"Well, if you only had sex once, how did you get two kids?"
....stunned silence....
"What makes you think we only had sex once?"
"I dunno. I just thought you only had sex once."

Now... K2 was not home at the time, and delving into a discussion at the time that sex is a function of normal married life, and consenting adults, and love, etc. would have lead to a whole other myriad of questions that honestly, she wouldn't understand the answers to. She barely gets the idea of tab A, slot B. It's a really basic framework understanding she has, and isn't ready to digest more than that, as she gets off on tangents of unrelated ideas.... so I steered right off the path of sex as a normal part of life.

Luckily, she settled for, "Honey, we have had sex more than once.", and other than her saying as she walked away, "Well, you don't anymore, right? Since you can't have more babies."... and being stunned back into silence again, I didn't contradict her. Better saved for a sit down talk. She is outwardly curious. My son- not so much. I don't think he could give a shit less, in fact.... He's gonna get the sit down soon, too.

I am a success! She knows babies come from sex.... Of course- her father is a eunuch and I am a celibate in her mind, but hey... Santa still brings toys, and every story has a happy ending in her world... what are you gonna do?

Not Yesterday... Not Today, Either.

You know those people who are great in a crisis? Those who seem to have 6 hands and can juggle everything and make it all land in place without breaking a sweat? I am one of those people. During stress and "shit hitting the fan" time- I function extremely well. So say- like a car breaking down, Christmas shopping, buying a replacement car, kids home for Christmas vacation, and all the regular everyday shit that goes on in the mean time that has to be dealt with... I can handle it all, and not show a single sign of fracture or upset.

The problem being once it is all done- and everyone looks around, sees it is okay and starts to feel better... That's when I fall apart. Like some kind of emotional after shock, I lose it after things are all fixed, and it would seem logical that the need for a nervous breakdown has passed. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the peace of mind of a plan coming together, I curl up into the psychological equivalent of the fetal position and don't want to deal with a whole lot of anything or anyone.

I will post pics of the over loaded Christmas tree, and ensuing libations this week. It was a fabulous holiday, and I am still scrambling to find places to put all the toys. Things should get back to normal soon, (they better), and I will feel more like sharing- but I have decided to grant myself the luxury of feeling pissy and blue for a few days, until things get back to a regular rhythm around the house.

What Now?

One more week until Christmas. Weee! Other than the "Stucking Stoffers" the shopping is done. Now by shopping, I am of course talking sans gifts for the husband and myself. We are opting out of gift giving to each other due to the overwhelming sudden lack of funds. FUCKING CAR.

Speaking of the fucking car- as I was just in the shower I asked the powers that be, "Why couldn't you break MY POS rust bucket, instead of the decent family sedan?" When they didn't answer, I told them to suck themselves, and rinsed my hair.

It's not that any of this is so unmanageable. It's just one of those times in life that it is one fucking thing after another- and Christmas is a shitty time to have a crisis. When my world is in upheaval state- I gear into "strong, smart, down to business Freud". I handle big stress really well. Multitasking is my thing, and I can juggle it all with one hand. If I had a dick, I'd be able to switch hands mid jack-off and gain a stroke. It is why I have had people tell me I should be a paramedic or some other high paced stress position- I do crisis really well.

On the flip side, when one gets so focused on the big picture- the building of a proverbial skyscraper- the little shit tends to show up as stress fractures and threatens to bring my mighty front of strength tumbling down. Example- I dropped the TV remote on my toe yesterday- right on the cuticle- stung like a bitch- and I nearly threw the fucker against the wall. Thats' right, I took the minor injury of the TV clicker as a personal attack- it did that shit on purpose, I just know it. There is lots of little shit like that. The oven is making funny noises. The patio got trashed during the last wind storm, and it is cold as balls outside making it hard to clean it up. The dryer has something stuck in it and it makes this bumping noise when I turn it on. I think the profession of psychiatry is out to get me, and the doctor is so reluctant to listen to my suggestions, that I want to start jumping up and down on his fine leather couch like a 6 year old. The stupid ass cats are trying to tear down the damn Christmas tree with their daily antics.... and my kitchen floor looks like someone ate and then threw up a can of garbage on it within 3 hours of my cleaning it.

So- the balls I am juggling-

~Get the new car- get the funding, insurance and such lined up. Also, taking it to my mechanic to ensure everything is lubed, changed, tightened, and tuned. It also needs a new stereo deck- as it has a mini-disc in it right now. Who the fuck uses mini-discs?! They are the 90s equivalent of 8-tracks... and the one disc in it is Jazz. Blech! So THAT has to go... which means budgeting for that too.

~Ditch the old car, de-register it, take off insurance, and make sure the military VPC doesn't fuck it up and cause headaches when it is time to move. They have been known to let paper work go astray- and when we got my last car they said I couldn't register it because we hadn't removed a car from years before. I had to dig out 2 year old papers and take them in. Massive headache I don't need in June when we are trying to uproot our lives to go back stateside. The guy we are buying the new car from is going to try to sell the Trep for us on consignment for parts. We'll see how that goes. If nothing else, we can sign it over to him in the spring if there is no buyer, but I am hoping to get something out of it. Other than a blown tranny it is a flawless ride.

~Make sure nothing gets missed for Christmas. Yes it is little stuff, and may not seem to be all that important, as the kids will be thrilled no mater what. But I feel this is our last precious year to indulge the magic of Santa Claus- and I want to enjoy that fully... which means stockings full of goodies, fabulous presents appearing on Xmas morning, and a webcast for the family so they can be a part of it.

~Fixing the XBox. Miscrosucks is still fucking with me on getting a replacement for a 360 that is less than a year old. Looks like I will be paying shipping to and from the states for it to get fixed- even though last month a friend of ours got them to ship the coffin to his APO address. It is important, as I am not going to eat a $400 game system because they sell the shitty units to the military BX's and leave us hanging when it comes to repairs.

~My car- the rusty POS- needs lubed, oiled, filtered, tuned, rotated, balanced, a new battery and new brake pads. Every time I have gone down to get a few of those things done there is a line long as Goliath's pecker. The BX, in it's infinite wisdom closed the auto shop, so I have to make an appointment with the guy in town. More fucking money on the local economy with the dollar in the shitter. Grand!

~Then there is a regular stuff- ass deep in laundry, daily tear up and cleaning of the house, shopping, bill paying, keeping my kids from killing each other or the animals in the fray of daily arguments. What has two thumbs and thinks life sucks sometimes? THIS GUY!

I am sure there is a light at the end of this tunnel somewhere. After Christmas- when hopefully I get a respite for a month or so before the next big thing. In the mean time- this is my new theme song. Have to keep my head up and laugh at it- or find a nice white room staffed by syringe carrying young men in clean white coats.

Fabulous Timing

Fabulous fucking timing, in fact. Got an email in my ebay box this morning from a seller who runs a store... I poured for hours over all the inline skates that were out there. Some of the skates this place has advertised have a qualifier on them saying they will not ship to an APO address. I went out of my way to find some that did not have said qualifier on the listing, and ordered them. Well, the fuckers drop ship these skates, and guess what! No USPS delivery. Buncha Asshats! I have to call them today and see if there is something in their stock that they can replace the item with- either way, getting it here by Christmas is looking like fairly shitty odds. Fuckheads.

When I was little Mom had this joke printed on a standard 8.5 x 11.5 paper. Was a hand drawn picture of a reindeer, some trees, and a house- looking like it was drawn by a kid- and the quote said "Money's tight, and times are hard. Here's your fucking Christmas Card". Those in my life who actually get cards from me should not be surprised to see one show up on their doorstep this holiday season. My entire mood is in the toilet right now, as my husband came home and told me, "The transmission just blew up." (Cue: "WHAT?!" followed by my catatonic state.)

Yep... Got the sublime pleasure of standing out there, in the rain with the blood rushing into my ears while the tow truck was loaded with POS #1. It won't go into reverse, but will get into first- go about 200 feet, then slip out of gear. All of this was preceded by a loud clunk. If we are lucky- it is part of a recall I found where parts of the transaxle can rub and cause a tranny mount to crack/break and misalign the drive train. Maybe the clunk was a mounting bracket of somekind breaking. Otherwise- it will have to be completely fucking rebuilt... which means it will have to be shot in the radiator and top of the engine block with a .54 magnum to put it out of my fucking misery.... and I would enjoy the shit out of that, by the by, should the mechanic give me horrible news.

I am waiting for the guy to call me now and tell me what the fuck is wrong with it- but my creeping feeling is that it will be a rebuild/replacement, and I don't think Santa brings rebuilt trannys complete with free mechanics in his jolly ho ho bag. Mostly Christmas is already bought, paid for, and on the way (sans kids skates from fuckhead eBay sellers), so no big there- SO long as the kids presents are done... but with the dollar in the shitter, what would normally be an astronomical amount of cash for a repair in the states ($1500- $2200) will cost us 35% more here- and that sucks 2 weeks before Christmas.

I will hang out and wait for the call, I guess, hope for the best, prepare for the worst- and merrily sing "Fuck you, car. Fuck you, car. You can kiss my ass..." to the tune of jingle bells for the remainder of the day.

Too Far

SO, as I was sitting here doing my etoys order for the big Santa delivery, I stumbled across something that fucking floored me. An Action figure. Not just any action figure mind you. This isn't Superman or Wolverine. Oh, No sir! We gots us a Jesus Christ action figure. Wait... what? Jesus ACTION FIGURE? I had to include the picture to show I am not full of shit.

Since when did a prophet of old, known for peace and kindness, and love for his fellow man become an "Action Figure"? Damn- he doesn't even have karate chop action or a cool red cape and boots... Maybe he has the Miraculous Super Sandals, and Head Busting Loin Cloth under his frock. OOOooooh, you know what would be cool? If he had a button that made him float in someway that looked like walking on water. Seriously... What the fuck? I am all about people's freedom of faith and teaching your kids about "________"< (Insert supreme being of power here). But COME ON! a Jesus doll in stead of a spiderman? Maybe next year they can come out with a John the Baptist doll, complete with river dunking action and detachable head.

Can you imagine being that poor little kid who asked Santa for a Megatron Transformer and gets a non-karate chopping Christ? How do you explain that shit to your friends at school? "I got an Xbox 360! What did you get for Christmas, Billy?" ..."I got a talking plastic Jesus."... and then poor Billy would get his ass kicked. Yep- I think even at the best catholic school in the state- he would still get an ass whoopin' on the playground. I could see it as a gag gift for your favorite pastor- but if you are that tight with your ministry- I suggest a fruit basket...or a blow up sheep.

I know there are dolls that go the way opposite direction and are equally fucked up.... I don't let my daughter have "Bratz" dolls, as they look like street walking whores, and the whole line's premise is based on mall strutting in make up put on with a stucco trowel to get boys... they also don't have noses- and that's just creepy. As for my son- I have never found X-men or the Fantastic Four to be a bad thing for a boy to have... Super heroes are cool shit. Yeah, yeah, Jesus is cool shit too- but not as a toy- and I am quite certain that a kid could end up in long term adult therapy for having the kind of parents that would buy him a Christ over a Spiderman.

By the by- check the shipping price on that bitch... $139.00. For that amount I would think it would at least come with Romans to smite- or Pharisees to blind... At least it could include a cross... I don't care who ya are- that shit is just wrong.

Jingle... quick and easy

FInally dug the tree out yesterday and strung it with gorgeous lights... Murphy's Law kicked in, of course, and somehow I am missing a box of lights somewhere. It has just disappeared. So- I will have to aquire more for the outside decor. That might prove to be a challenge, as I will not be buying 220v lights with us leaving next year, and I know damn good and well AAFES is going to be their usual terrible fucking disappointment and have nothing... So this year, the patio may go unlit. As much as I hate that idea- it may be for the best- no lights up, means no lights to take down.

In said same missing box are some of my shelf knick knacks, and my tree garland. Can't have a tree without garland, at least I can't. Solution? I will be going to get bags of cranberries and popcorn. As it turns out this will solve more than one problem- as it is raining and pukey outside yet again and stringing garland will keep the kids occupied for at least a couple of hours. They will happily push string thru food- (until they get bored of it and I am stuck finishing 80% of it on my own.) But when Christmas has passed- the garland can hit the trash can- and that is one less thing to put away and lose in the move stateside.

I haven't started my shopping yet, and other than one big order from etoys, and a few bits here and there from eBay, I may not be doing much shopping this season. May be the upcoming move, but I am so much more focused on not packing the house full of shit I am going to have to sort through later, than I am with how many presents are under the tree. So ho, ho, ho and 'tis the season, and all that shit- but this year I think I am going to be streamlining.

9 Years

Happy Birthday to my baby boy... who is not so much a baby anymore. 9 years old. Holy shit, batman. I will not bore you by being one of those parents who says my kid is the smartest, cutest, most brilliant child in the world- who farts sunshine that smells like roses. I mean, he is to me.. but he is a really good kid, with a tender heart, a good sense of humor, and a quick wit, and it gets more fun everyday to see what he will say, do and teach me about life and myself every moment I get to spend with him.

For example... Today I learned that having a nine year old child, when 10 years ago I never thought I would have or want children, makes me feel really, really fucking old. I also learned that 90% of the time the answer to many questions I ask him is apparently, "I don't know." And, when I am irate and ask him what happened, or why he was screwing up, (i.e. Where did this mess come from?), the first word in his sentence is always his sister's name. (i.e.- "Rachel did...", or "Rachel said...")

I am fretting and anticipating the next few years. The years when he starts growing hair, and his voice cracks, and he has to start washing his own sheets- because having no siblings, know nothing about the whole wet dream thing. Those wonderful times when he gets a crush and starts chatting on the phone and internet... when he gets defensive and shy about girls he likes... His first rejection from the opposite sex, and how I can comfort him... The laughs we can have when he starts to "get" the innuendos on the almost family TV shows. How about the things he can confide in me that we have to keep a secret from his dad- the secrets he keeps from me. I know it is coming, so I am enjoying what I have while I have it... and can't wait to see what is around the corner.

Despite the trials and tribulations of daily parenting, I can say that having him makes my life better for so many reasons. Love you to infinity and beyond, Boy-o! Happy Birthday!

*end mushiness*

FIGMO...?

Yes, that's right, and I know I have been missed by few.... but for those who bother to check, thanks.

Let's see. Went to Disneyland Paris, did the big Thanksgiving thing, oh, yes... and got our orders for next summer.

We will be going to Grand Forks, North Dakota. Being that I am trying to be up beat about it, and looking (in vain, thus far) for positive words to say about my feelings on the matter, I will just say... We are going to North Dakota. Looking online has proved somewhat fruitless... It is cold, and flat and windy... and if you are an "outdoorsy" person, (which I am SO fucking not) it's nice in the summer.

There is one thing I can say- it has a Walmart and I think a Target, so I can permanently tell AAFES to kiss my big ass with their high prices and shitty selections.
Of course there is being able to have things shipped to my house again- because Fed Ex and UPS will deliver to me again. (Dunkin Donuts Coffee, here I come.) Other than than the common amenities of being back stateside, I am finding little to peak my interest... thus far. They have the best elementary kid's school there- no surprise to me, as there seems little else to do than go to school... But it is a real positive family wise.

Gimmie some time to mull things over once things are less hectic around here... and ask me again. In the mean time, if you have anything positive to say about living in ND- or any flat, titty nipple cold place for that matter... let me know.

Freud's Free Advice

I have some tips to make your life easier...

~Do not eat KFC food, unless you are looking for a serious laxative. KFC always comes with a free side order of "The Colonel's Revenge". Kinda like the water in third world countries. It is also apparent in other chicken joints- i.e.- Popeye's can give your gut a bad case of "The Bayou Blues". The results of these maladies are belly cramps to equate with a prison house shiv, and "shissing"- that is, shooting flaming, corrosive, anus eating battery acid out of your ass the next day, along with the melodious sound of a nearly empty ketchup bottle.

~You should never let your Family Practice doctor handle any System Specific Treatment. Let me give a few examples of why this is a bad idea...
It is probably not a good idea to get an antidepressant medication from a doctor who just came out of the next room dealing with little Timmy's sniffles. He doesn't really know shit about you, and will likely throw a Prozac scrip at you, not giving you another thought. Go see a shrink.
How about those annual pelvic exams? Do you want a guy coming into the room and training an unpracticed eye on your vagina right after he gave Uncle Bob a prostate exam in the next room? Try a doctor who spends all day looking at normal puss, so that when she sees something even a little off, she can take care of it.

~Don't ever yell at or get pissed off at the guy in the front... This is a retail thing. If you have a problem with the way things are going when dealing with a company, always ask for a supervisor. Not only are they more fun to yell at, they might even be able to solve a problem you have. The clerk, waitress or first rep to answer the 800 number is likely not in any position to fix anything, and doesn't make enough money to take any responsibility for his company sucking ass. I usually find getting 3 or 4 deep in the management tier can do wonders... then you can really stomp a mudhole in someone's ass.

~Next time you get so fucked up that you are having to hang on to the grass to keep from falling off the earth... before racking out, and praying the spinning of the bed doesn't make you puke, drink a big (HUGE) glass of water and take 2 or 3 aspirin. It is also very helpful to eat something at this time- like the left overs from the party. It has to be done before the inevitable set in of the morning hang over. This works best if you get up once for that final piss a few hours later- drink another huge glass of water- hangovers are caused by dehydration.

~Unless you are sufferer of chronic acne- please- pop that fucking zit! No one wants to see a mayonnaise filled pus pocket on your face. In the very least- drain the fucker with a needle, hot pack it and put some rubbing alcohol on it to speed the process of drying it out. It's just gross, and trust me- while 98% of people you meet won't notice that stain on your tie, or the size of your ass in those jeans- they WILL notice (and yes judge you) for having a festering whitehead on your face.
If you DO have chronic acne- i.e. 30 or more zits at any one time- go see a dermatologist. (See above- not your general practitioner.)

~Never forward spam. Never. This includes, but is not limited to- "The Andy Rooney" speech on living in America, national girlfriends week emails, not ashamed of God communiqués, supposed email petitions, or the "I had to try it" make money mails. Forwarding these types of communications makes you look like a bonafide schmuck. Personally it makes my delete key my best friend, and makes me think less of people who forward this shit to my in box. Seriously- just because you thought it was wonderful, stop and think if everyone on that arm-long list of people in your address book will too. If you must forward something that was SO damn good... Have some fucking class and copy/paste it into a new email, and drop the history'o'headers tracing back to the days of Moses.

That's all for now.
What advice do you offer for free to your "real" friends?

Movies when feeling weird....

Not sure if it is the weather changing to cold nights and chilly days or what... but for some reason I want to sleep. Like hibernate. All. The. Time. I can't seem to get warm, and I can't seem to wake up. It's not a depression thing, as my moods is fine. I am just ass dragging tired, and in a way that no coffee in the world could help.

Since the colder shorter days are coming, people seek more entertainment indoors- and I thought I would set forth a list of "Freud's Must See Movies"... as I have never done it before, and other than my usual bitchery- I am without anything to talk about. Please feel free to post if there is something you think I omitted, or a movie I like that you think sucks- so I can tell you you are wrong.

In no particular order- here we go...

~Lady Jane~ Great story, great love story, and based on a real person!

~Dogma~ Excellent- flies in the face of religion, especially "The Church", and what a better time to see Ben Affleck posing with wings?! We love eye candy!

~Excalibur~ Wonderful telling of the Arthurian legend- N. Williams as Merlin is awesome... and proof that Patrick Stewart never had hair.

~The Fast and the Furious~ Have a hard on for muscle cars? If you don't, you will after this flick. Vin Diesel is a shitty actor- but in this movie- he is pretty awesome.

~The Princess Bride~ Best sword fight in any movie. Ever. Oh! And Cary Elwes when he was still British and sexy.

~Real Genius~ Seeing this is a Moral Imperative.

~The Santa Clause~ One of the best Christmas movies ever made- because like it or not "It's a Wonderful Life" SUCKS, and is the bane of Christmas.

~Men in Black~ I have come to pretty much like most Will Smith movies- but this has to be my favorite. It should be yours too.

~Kingpin~ It has it all! Bill Murray as a dirt bag, Woody Harrison as a Pig, and Randy Quaid as an Amish dude. What more could you ask for?

~A League of Their Own~ This one speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Best love scene in any movie? Highlander. Most gorgeous costumes and sets? The King and I- the one with Deborah Kerr made in the 50's. I also have to tell you to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show- but you must see it in the theatre, on a weekend at midnight- and be devirginized by the cast.

What are your favorite movies? Discuss.

Boo! Not really that scary...

We survived our last halloween in Germany! This time next year, I will be picking up candy wrappers off the table in a different house... and something about those candies- "Fun Size". Seriously, if I were to quantify fun- I think it would be a little bigger.

Done and Done

Well... with about 19 hours to spare, I am done with the sewing of costumes, buying of accessories and set up for Halloween. Well, not entirely done- as I still have a pumpkin to carve, candy bags to throw together, and little gems to glue onto a Cinderella dress... fuck- I guess I am not done... but the big work is out of the way.

My hands are now in full on rebellion against my Halloween Cause, as my fingers have spent the better part of the last few weeks asleep, and have now started the night time sabotage of sending shooting pains up to my elbow as I sleep. Those are big fun- especially when they wake me up whimpering like a whooped pup. So, I finally broke down and made an appointment to start my third trip through the tricare referral system to get my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome looked at. No big surprises that it would come to this- sewing, gaming, typing and 6 years of color-guard in my past with all the fun-fun ripped tendon injuries that went with it.... I am really hoping for a steroid shot and a pat on the head to send me on my merry crazy ass way. We'll see on Monday... after Halloween, and before I have to start the holiday stressing.

I will be posting costume pics both here and on my sewing site... If I am going to suffer for my work, I might as well show it off like the pompous ass I am.

Suckishness

Saturday night we went to a Halloween party. Good times were had by all, but in hindsight when one has been exposed to a virus, it may not be in one's best interest to stand outside in 31 degree weather for 4 hours.
That's right- it is this season's first cold, and I am miserable. The husband has had this shit for a while now, and I thought I had escaped it. Boy, was I wrong. My head feels like it has been through a cement mixer.

Just went into the bathroom to soak and alleviate my uber achy ass, and found the water to be running piss yellow today. Fucking. Awesome. Apparently someone has been playing with the pipes downstairs. So, no bath- at least not til later. Instead, I opted for laying down for a little while... The fire department was nice enough to fuck that up by testing the building's alarm system. Not only was I jolted hard out of that blissful and warm "almost" sleep state by the screaming of the world's loudest alarm, but it scared the piss out of the cat too, and she clawed the ever living fuck out of me in her panic to run away from... well... whatever she thought was going to eat her alive.

Screw it... Guess I'll go clean something. Might as well have something to be pissy about while I feel like a can of smashed assholes.

Indulgence

Last week I celebrated a big anniversary. It has been one year of uterus free living for me. Nothing has changed since, really (Except the absence of the horrible symptoms the accompanied my 21 day cycle of menses)... I still wince at pregnant women, and despise the thought of diapers, potty training, and the use of the word "No" 400% more than now. Not that I didn't enjoy my kids as little guys-I did. But they were mine. :) Uterus free is for me! No more painfully crippling cramping, and days of mess. I was fearful I might have regret over the loss of my child bearing years. That one day I may want another child, and it not be an option. And then- I go out and see other people's kids acting like shitheads, see my kids acting right, and know I did the right thing. There is no way I would want to start from the beginning again- with "No." and "Hot." and "Don't touch."... with diapers, and bottles, and baby gates. No way I could start over with toddler discipline, and tantrums, etc....

On that note...
*begin rant*
On my other site a woman made a po