Everything you never wanted to know

~Houses with all hard floors, and little furniture have a great echo effect.

~Cats are sketched out by the sound of tape guns. So much so, that they will go into hiding and look like the devil himself is coming after them with a hungry pitbull. Cats even take on a possessed look- wondering if there is such a thing as a cat exorcist.

~During a move that is done in pieces, invariably, despite the best laid plans, shit will get forgotten. You could very well end up after the last movers leave realizing you have no can opener, but a drawer completely full of cooking utensils.

~Children, when left with few toys, will find something to play with, no matter how "not a toy" that something is. *Solo cups, when stacked and fall on a wood floor are noisy- see above re:Echo effect. *Stuffed animals don't smell good after used as bath toys. *Pillows, in fact, do not make good projectiles. *Golf balls make marks on walls when thrown against them. *Empty 5 gallon water bottles, when put in the hands of children can be dangerous.

~Solo cups are multi-purpose kitchen tools. Breakfast cereal can be eaten from Solo cups, spaghetti-o's can be cooked in Solo-cups, and even though they crack, kids can hide solo cups full of liquids in the freezer and make solid bricks of ice that can break toes when they fall out.

~You have more cleaning supplies under your kitchen sink than you think you do.

~AFN sucks worse when there is nothing else to do during down time than watch AFN.... The up side being, you find things to do to minimize down time.

~Temporary furniture was designed by the same people who developed the interrogation methods for detainees in Guantanamo Bay. I know somewhere someone is laughing his sick fuckin ass off thinking about people sitting on couches for weeks that make doctor's office furniture seem comfortable. Same sick bastard thinks the idea of 2 adults sharing a double bed is hilarious.

~Mother Nature, in order to pay me back for taking away her ability to fuck me up with menses, has decided to screw with the weather. Going from the patio temp being 96, with 80% humidity to a high of 62 and windy as all hell... making my body react in bad ways- sweat my ass off to freeze my ass off within 36 hours. Uncool. This week we have had lovely days of 35 mph winds, and an hourly change from torrential rain to sunshine at least 4 times a day.

~You have shit hidden in the corners of your house that you don't know about. I'll make a list for entertainment purposes. You likewise have shit stuck to the floors in your house under the furniture that would scare you... seriously- I don't remember ever having THAT in this house. WTF?!

~Everyone reacts to stress differently. Some eat and gain weight. Some stop eating and lose weight. Some get testy, some get depressed,... I break out. I am not talking the teenager looking zit here and there on my face. I get these huge nasty painful knots in oddball places. These past two weeks have gotten me what could only be described as alien invasions, and they always show up about 24 hours after a new bit of bullshit is added to the stress pile. One in (That's IN) my ear, one right dead center between my tits, one right at the bra line on my back, one in my armpit, one on my thigh, and one... well never mind where THAT one was. The one that did show up on my face is not a zit... I think it is my body trying to grow a new nose (One that looks like it belongs on a famous reindeer) and it is right next to the old nose.

~Old magazines seem like new again, when you find them after years and put them in the bathroom for the "Guy's Shitting Time".

Fuck man... stop the ride. I want to get off now, please.

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.

Weeeee... I'm gonna throw up!

And... here we go!
On July 30th, we will take a shuttle to Frankfurt and check into a hotel. At our backs will be the KMC, our home for the last 6 years. The morning of July 31st we will board a plane for the States, leaving Europe, likely for the rest of our lives.

SO now all those in my life most concerned with dates, (besides myself,) can stop freaking the fuck out. We arrive in Baltimore (after a layover in O'Hare, the airport from depths of HELL) on July 31st. We'll be spending the night there near BWI in a Sheraton. Bright and early we'll be getting the car and beginning the long ass haul to BFE North Dakota. Still working out the stops along the way for that torturous long ride, but we'll get there, kids and cat in tow. Google maps estimates about 25 hours of actual driving time. That's a really long time to spend in a fucking car, eating from plastic wrappers, drinking from pop bottles and dealing with, a backseat monkey shit fight, and "I have too pee" every 2 hours. Even if we are stopping every night to sleep, shower and make phone calls, it is going to be a stressing few days.

In any case, there is a light at the end of the tunnel- although I get the feeling it is more like a light at the end of of roller coaster climb though a dark cave, and on the other side is a series of really steep drops and hard fucking turns... but it's a light, no doubt.

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?

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.

A Few Weeks

Holy Shit! Hide! It's coming!

The move of course. It's Mid-April and we have less than 3 months left here. As I look around the house, there is SO much still needing done, but so much that has to wait to be done. Like re-painting the walls to white. If we do it now, we'll likely have to re-do it again to remove finger marks... shit like that. I have made some progress in sorting the closets. This week will be dressers. The storeroom is a never ending process of clusterfuck.... so we won;t talk about that.

By the by, I am still hiring a man with truck to help me haul shit to the recycle center. Payment made in beer, pizza and $50. Duties will include lifting old box springs, loveseat and changing table into YOUR truck, along with a few varied bits and pieces of shit I no longer want or need. OH- and on old Christmas tree... that one is upstairs... and clothes- those go to the thrift shop... It's not an easy job- but YOU have to do it. Call me. :)

The prospect of Grand Forks- yes, still dismal. Still flat, cold and boring. There do seem to be plenty of job opportunities in the fast growing career field of food service, as well as the open ended chance to advance in the business of newspaper delivery. Creamed Christ on Toast- I am sure I'll find something.

The plusses- no more AFN. Nor will I be relegated to always shopping AAFES for shit. I will be so happy to leave those bastards behind. I will be able to get something other than Burger King when I feel the compulsive need to stuff 3000 calories a bite into my face. I bet 31 flavors there has 31 flavors of cie cream- recently the Baskin Robbins here went from 20 flavors down to 12.... they still fly the 31 flavors flag though. Bet I can even go out to a place where their idea of "seafood" isn't last week's random white fish. (I don't think Germans know what Lobsters are.)

We want to do leave in route and make time for a little bit of family time at home. This trip MUST include time in Las Vegas, and perhaps other desert destinations to dry out my sinuses for the first time in six fucking years, and allow my hair to be straight, sans humidity kinkiness. Want some time with family and friends... Fuck- I can't think about that shit now. I have to get us OUT of here first.

Time to write more lists- which my shrink tells me is very helpful and therapeutic for crazy ass folks who have a hard time staying on task while not losing one's mind.

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.

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?

Underway... Ish

I have now officially started the getting of the shit together... with paperwork. Odd place to start? Well, it is a small thing, but something I could tackle and do in a sitting, and to my muchly fucked up brain was a task I could actually start and finish in a sitting. I ganked a binder from my kid and stole some unused school folders. The one thing I am good at keeping straight is paperwork. There ain't no way in hell I am going to sit in a lobby waiting for some schmuck to send me away to return later because I don't have a copy of some paper or another.

I have receipts, letters, notes, shot records, passport pictures, bills... even original copies of orders from our trip here 6 years ago. I made spots for transcripts, clearances, insurance papers, inventory lists... even a little pocket so I can print out pictures of every fucking thing we own, in case it is broken or lost in transit I can make my claims. I also have a comp book that I am filling with notes and info and phone numbers of places to call to get the info I need, even if I can't do the things required by them- the having of information will allow me to sleep at night.
Got to talk to my bud Heidi last night. She went through this shit last year... Helps having a mentally grounded contact, so that when I am about to beat my head against the wall and curl up into a fetal position, I can call and scream, rant, and rave like a fucking lunatic to someone who understands and who can offer me counsel from an insider's perspective... Especially all the shit *I* will be dealing with as the mom/wife that you don't find on many websites that talk about military moves as if the guys are leaving bootcamp with nothing but a back pack and a bad hair cut. (Holy fuck that was a long sentence!)

Now I have a starting point. I made out a list for each room of shit to do... now I just have to get it done, and when needed, get help. Hmmm... Help might be a bit of a problem- hard to find someone I can hire who can actually get on base, and co-worker volunteers are going to be few and far between with the whole four flights of stairs and heavy shit to haul issue. How does this sound?

[strong]Wanted: Human Pack Mule with Truck for fourth floor trash Storage and Trash run Job- payment in Beer, Home Cooking and Pizza. Apply Within. Warning: Boss Bites[/strong]

Think anyone will volunteer?

Sorry

Wow... my poor, poor neglected blog. I have been remiss in keeping it updated. Not that I don't think about doing it everyday- but then when I think about what to put into words, I am torn between having everything and nothing to bitch about... and then I don't.

It's tax season. I had been anticipating this year more than any other, for this was the year I was going to get my china cabinet hutch dealio from a local furniture store... said reatiler has fallen off the face of the planet. I guess they went out of business. I have looked at other ones, and found them to not only be really ugly euro trash styled- but insanely expensive. The bulk of the Uncle Sugar money will be socked into savings, as planned- to prepared for the move- and a small portion will be used to get me a new computer. As it is now, I use the "family" (that is to say husband's) comp- or "borrow" my son's, etc. At least the ones we have now are apple, and not microsucks winblows.

Problem being of course that for me to get a new one we will be stuck with AAFES (unacceptable) or jumping through hoops to get one shipped here from the states. You can scroll back though the archives to find my experiences with Dell. It was 2 weeks of hell dealing with those fucktards, and I am not anxious to go through that again. Not even a little bit... as much as I am not looking forward to this who north dakota thing, I am about fed the fuck up with being here too.

Anytime we want or need something we have to either rely on AAFES, the unreliable, or wade through a river of shit to get it, or of course there is always "tough shit, live without it" as a third option. As much as I used to bitch about how much money I used to spend at Walmart... I am looking forward to walking into one when we get back. Oh, and a Denny's... Now we all know no one ever GOES to Denny's- you end up at Denny's... but won't it be glorious to get something to eat at 1 a.m., or on a Monday afternoon- as there are no "rutag" days.

Yeah, I am "red'ta'go". I'll update on the pursuit of a computer system.... I am most certain it is not going to go well, as it seems we are already hitting walls with HP. At least the representatives there are Americans. It's a start.

Winding Up

Six Months. Sounds like a long time, but it seems like a short time when faced with the huge task of moving a family 6000 miles after being in one place for 6+ years. (Hmmm 666. Weird. Anyways...)

It seems that he four of us have accumulated quite a bit of shit in the last six years... Much of it I have little or no interest in keeping. This feels kinda like that nesting thing one goes through during pregnancy- except I am feeling the need to make the nest in the dumpster outside for the stuff.... It is hard to know where to start. One cabinet at a time, I suppose. When we got here- our furniture was rather sparse. Now we have something resembling a grown up life... and everything has to be sorted all over again.

When we came to Germany, we had all of 5 days from issue of orders to the day we had to be in on the way to LA to drop off the car for shipment- including appointments with movers, cleaning, and reservations for travel. Most military folks get 2 or more months at LEAST. We threw out so much shit on moving day that the illegals in the apartment complex thought it was Christmas time. They were floored I was throwing out a crib and a coffee maker, an old dresser and GOBS of old clothes.... (Hey- with 19 of them in a single 850 sq ft apartment they had a lot of kids to clothe.) SO- we took it out to the dumpster- they snagged it and took it next door.

I digress, as we have a longer heads up, I am hoping to avoid the whole mass dumpage of shit at the last minute. Then it will also be a challenge to make sure more shit doesn't accumulate behind me when I move to the project pile. I think I will start in the laundry room, and work from there...
I am gonna need a fuck-ton of trash bags.

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.

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?

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 post regarding her toddler acting the ass in a store by screaming in the cart. She insisted that not giving in to him by paying attention to it was her way of dealing with his asinine behavior in the store. It's a good idea, but the concept is entirely flawed.

Should your child become one of those screaming fucking brats in the commissary/BX/Wal-mart there are a few things obvious to me. In the past his screaming shit has gotten him what he wants- at least at some part- either the candy/toy/attention... at home, should your child start a screaming purple faced tantrum it is absolutely the right thing to do to walk away, and leave the little shit where he flops, and let him scream, kick and fit to his hearts content, while you busy yourself with dishes, needlepoint, or a shower.

The store is not a place to do this kind of thing. Why? Because you may be ignoring the little bastard's screaming and thinking you are proving something to him... you're not. What you are proving is "I will not pay attention to your bad behavior... but everyone else in the store will, and your screaming can embarrass me, and punish me for not giving in to you." Kids are incredibly intuitive. They notice me and the 15 other people in the aisles looking at him acting like a shit. He's getting his attention, lady, trust me- and he knows he is making you feel stupid and inadequate. Hey, let's not forget people like me, who have kids who know how to act in public, and don't want to listen to your screaming brat having a tantrum. Take the little bastard home, then institute above policy of letting him tantrum all by himself until he passes out or pukes.

How did my kids learn to behave in a store? Well, it wasn't through a nice pretty Doctor Spock method of quiet words and reasoning. When my son started to pitch a fit in the commissary, I told him once, "It stops, or we leave and go home, where you will be punished, and get nothing." He didn't stop. Guess what? I grabbed him, my daughter, (who was an infant at the time), and my purse and left the store. I walked out, dragging a kicking screaming child, and left a full cart full of groceries standing in the aisle where he started his shit.

Thinking back, I specifically remember I needed milk and other basic staples that day- but nothing was so crucial that it couldn't wait 3 hours for Daddy to get home, so I could go back to the store without the kids. When I left for the store later- I made damn sure my son knew I was going back- and that I would not only be going without him- but that he would not be getting anything special from the trip.

This practice stands to this day. Never would I consider making other people listen to my screaming child while he is acting like a shit as a viable practice. Does it make me a total bitch that I don't want to hear your fucking brat doing his impression of an air raid siren while I am shopping? How about you stupid bastards who let your kids run around restaurants while the food is being prepared, because it is easier than making them sit down and be still? Oh yes, the rule stands in eating establishments too... act foolish- we leave. Period. One day I may talk about the night I left the Olive Garden in the middle of our meal, taking my son outside, and asking the server to bring the check to me there.

The bottom line for me... get control of your children. If you can't do it right then and there- remove them from the situation and deal with them. Make a point of DEALING with your children. That does not include letting him fire off his face like a fire engine siren while you act like Helen Keller, and continue to shop for your shit. It is not a negotiation, or reasoning that is always needed... "No." is a complete sentence, and if you teach them that early enough life will be easier. For you, for them... and for me.

It's pretty bad when my kid looks at me and comments about how terrible your kids act. Don't wanna be the bad mean guy when they are two or five years old because you have to discipline them? Can't handle making them upset or listening to them cry? Be prepared to be the bad parent standing in the principal's office when they are ten- or the court room when they are nineteen.

*end rant*

Tidbits

~It's PDoc day. Yippee? Have to go in and say "Yes, I am still crazy enough to need meds. No, I am not crazy enough to do anything stupid." I really fucking hate going down there- I wish he was on this base instead of Ram-shaft. He's a great Psychiatrist, and as any bipolar will tell you, it is hard to find good ones who don't over or under diagnose your problem, and bounce you out with a script for Prozac.

~This whole uproar about Iran is pissing me right the fuck off. Now I am not demeaning the Jewish populace's right to hate him or be pissed off.... BUT... To cause all this stink over him visiting here? For one thing- diplomacy is a good thing- even with an asshole. More over, and this is what chaps my ass, he is a politician. A lying, rotten to the core, piece of shit politician who spends his day shoveling bullshit down the throat of his countrymen, while trying to say things they want to hear. Just like our lying, rotten to the core, piece of shit politicians. You have to disbelieve 60% of the shit that rolls out of any politician's mouth, and doubt the other 40%, no matter what language they speak.

~One costume down, another ready to assemble, and two to go... the men's are gonna be a snap- 3 pieces, plus glitz. I will post pics, when I get them all done, and have a free sec to get the camera, import and export photos and update my sewing site.

~I have not been playing much Halo, despite the release of the most awesome Halo 3. My sewing schedule has had much to do with it (About 80%)... but there has also been some behind the scenes "clan drama" that I will not go into until it is resolved one way or another. Not that I am gonna quit the clan- just take a break for a little while- Kinda like Peter Gibbons in Office Space... "I don't like it, and I'm just not gonna go." At least for a week or so, while I sit back and popcorn it through this steaming pile of bullshit drama that I have found myself hip deep in. For those of you that I DO play with on a regular basis- gimmie a call and I will sign on for a closed room, but I'll be damned if I am going to play with a risk of ending up in a room with a whiny shit I would rather risk jail time for battery than listen to for a single second.

~Crap... gotta go. Don;t want to be late for my head shrinking.

A new installment

Yes, yes, it's been a long time. Stopping by Jane's this morning, I realized how long it had been since we had a good old fashioned FOADT around here... so here we go.

~Fuck off and die TKS Cable, the biggest rip of artists in the world. For your constant fuck ups and your most recent one of trying to continue to bill me for a service I had turned off in February. That's 8 fucking months of me constantly telling you "That's not right. Please see to getting it fixed." I know things can take time... but Seriously... 8 months?!
Americans in the KMC! You DO have a choice over TKS for on base service... It is twice as fast and 1/3 the price... and not littered with asshole representatives.

OH! When I went in there- I said "If this doesn't get fixed, my head is going to pop off." That smug little bitch looked at me and said, (I shit you not), "Are you threatening me?;
Uhhmmmm... Even in the worst case of English as a second language nightmares did I ever think saying MY head is going to pop off would be construed as a threat. This is the same rep who has pissed me off constantly for the better part of the last 5 years when dealing with these dumb pecker weeds. I got at least 5 inches and and 50 pounds on the little bad-dye-job-bitch. If I wanted to threaten her, I would be far more succinct as to have her question IF I threatened her.... She'd know... and the threat would not be for bodily harm. I am a far more vicious bitch than that. I like to get people chewed out, reprimanded and fired. Douche Muffin working for a bunch of unethical fucktards.

~As per par, AAFES can fuck off and die. This time, for the ability of anyone to think far enough ahead of retail events to order things that will be in high demand. Like kid's jackets, or long underwear.
Or Halo 3. The whole Halo thing has my dander way up. They can't even give an answer on wether or not they have been ordered at all. Assclowns from the ninth ring of Hell! To go hand in hand with that stupidity, I was told by the kid-du-jour working that AAFES policy is to order and stock a game twice. Ever. "That's what they figure the shelf life is." Dumb bastards. Maybe you should lay off on the yearly sports games orders, and listen to your customers. They still have copies of Madden '06 out... and Rugby, and FIFA, and MLB, and NCAA.. In fact any sporting game released is pouring forth from the store shelves like puke from a wino... but games the customers have asked for? Nothin' doin'.

~The American Media can FOAD, too. Thanks for getting on the hitch and reporting about a terror plot story... that broke here in Europe days ago. Self absorbed fucks... There is a whole BIG world out here that has news in it besides the Politics of America. CNN America gets its news from CNN world? Come on! No, no... let's talk about an albino buffalo giving birth to a white buffalo calf instead.

Chicken Soup for my Head...

It took a lot less time than I thought it would. Usually when school starts, I expect one or both of the kids to get sick within two weeks of classes starting. Took 4 days. Last night Rach came out here sounding like a baby with croup, and complaining of a headache.Yippee Skippy.

She stayed home from school today, and I was actually able to keep her resting for most of the time. (Cartoons on a big screen make a wonderful tranquilizer.) This afternoon, K2 started showing similar symptoms. Fucking awesome, right? We are supposed to head out for Heidelberg tomorrow for some sight seeing- I am hoping it still happens... We'll see. Otherwise I get to do the super mom/wonder wife thing of caring for a house full of sick people and try like hell not to come down with the crap-du-jour that goes hand in hand with the school year.

Tonight, I was commissioned by the sickies to make chicken soup... So I am doing that rare thing I do and sharing a recipe of mine. As it is all mine- original and everything.

Better Than My Mom's Chicken Soup

Whole Chicken
8 skinless/Boneless Chicken Thighs
Olive Oil
1/2 stick Butter (REAL butter)
2 Cloves Garlic
Med Onion
2 Whole stalks Celery
Kosher Salt
Pepper Grinder
Baby Carrots
Can Green Beans
Small Can of Button Mushrooms
Minute Rice

1 med onion, 2 stalks of celery (including the leaves) and 2 cloves of crushed garlic into a large stock pot with a few tablespoons of olive oil to sweat for 10 min.
Skin-yes SKIN- and cut up a whole chicken into quarters, removing the wings and back bone. Toss out the wings and skin/Save backbone. Add chicken to pot, with 8 boneless/skinless thighs, and back bone. Cover with 1-2 inches water and return to med high heat, covered. Boil for 45 min to an hour.
Pull out all meat/bones from broth. Debone chicken pieces, and cut up all chicken into small bite size pieces. In the mean time, add 1/2 stick of butter to stock. (throw out bones, and reserve white meat chunks)
Return meat to stock pot, and add about 10 baby carrots cut into small pieces. Cook over med high heat uncovered for 20ish minutes. Taste and add (kosher) salt, ground pepper, parsley flakes... keep the water level about 1-1.5 inches above meat- or add canned broth but you shouldn't need it).
Add 2/3 can whole green beans, and one small can button mushrooms. 3/4 cup of minute rice, and stir for about a minute. Add white meat back if you wish. Remove entire pot from heat and slap the cover on. Let stand for 10 minutes.
Stir and enjoy. If it is too thick- add a little water... too thin, return to heat for a minute and add a smidge more rice. It should be chock-full-o- shit with only a little broth.... like stew without the gravy.

Guaranteed to make even the biggest sickie in your house feel a little better... and no- it can't be made with noodles. Noodles that sit in broth turn into wall paper paste, and that's just gross. If you must have noodles instead of rice- make them separately and pour the soup over them in the bowl. Never add them to the pot. Over cooked noodles are just... fucking GROSS.

A Whole Entry for a Bitch

One of my commenter's- NICHOLE- (who I am tempted to post her email address here) said... "You seem like you hate the military. why dont you just get out of it or have your husband get out of it and stop whining its lame. anti military or people who bitch as much as you should just live a civilian life. you dont deserve to be part of the military and the military deserves better support then you. GET A LIFE LOOSER"

There are SO many stupid things about this shit you have spewed, I had to dedicate a whole entry to what a douche bag you are.

~I do not hate the military, nor my part in it. There are days that suck balls. I am sure your spoiled rotten bullshit blog surfing life has it's downs too. I bet there are days when all you want to do is run head first into walls... I think you should, personally, but whatthefuckever. This blog is my therapy to get it off my chest. Even my PDoc thinks it is a good idea to not hold the shit in. What I don't need is asshats coming on here being asshats for the sake of being asshats. If you have something constructive to say... out with it- if not- you can cram it in your cram hole, sister.
~Your solution is "get out of it"... uhm... so, yeah. 11 years of marriage down the tubes. Fuck, man! Why didn't I think of that? Maybe because despite it's stresses, my life is pretty right on- and a shitload better than a lot of people in the world have. OR "Have my husband get out of it". Holy shit- I didn't know I got to make those decisions for him- I mean with it being his career and all. I'll just have him turn in his letter of resignation and throw out 12 years of service towards retirement, all our insurance, and benefits too. (Hey, what kind of medical insurance do YOU have? Might I suggest you have your doctor check out that foot planted in your mouth, and head firmly stuck in your ass?) I am sure I would find things that would/will piss me off in civilian life too. The fact that I happen to be married to the military is irrelevant in that aspect. Sometimes life sucks. Maybe I could come live in your world of roses and bunnies for like ten fuckin' minutes?
~I am not anti-military, stupid. I am anti bullshit, and unfortunately for all of us in this life, the military is ripe with it... in fact, all the federal programs, institutions, and branches are hip deep in bullshit. If you don;t like the fact that I point it out- perhaps you should man up and leave YOUR blog address so we can come read all about how awesome and wonderful YOU are... I bet you are one of those fundamentalist zealots who think that disagreeing with the government's current policies is the 8th deadly sin
~.The military does deserve more... than assholes like you, sweet tits. It deserves spouses and families that stand by them hell or high water, and who are patriotic enough Americans to call bullshit when they see it. That's what makes us Americans, sister... our right to say "Bush is a retard." Or, "I don't want my family and friends getting blown the fuck up..." I can say that, and not commit some act of treason against my husband, his work, my government, etc. I still stand by him with pride in what he does everyday- and I sit at home and wait and worry with everyone else when he is gone.
~Finally, you illiterate twat- the word is LOSER. LOOSER is like what I would expect to find between your legs, douche muffin. I don't live my life for your approval, nor the approval of the lemming sycophants who think never saying boo about anything real is some kind of sacrifice for their country.
You don't know me or shit about me, my life, my family, etc.- except what you took the time to read in my self therapy sessions... so I would like to cordially invite you to go fist fuck yourself.... thank you. Drive Through.

Listen

Shhhhh!!!!
Do you hear that?
No?
Neither do I. It's QUIET!

The kids started school this morning. I took an uninterrupted shower. I swept the floor and it stayed swept for 4 whole hours. I read all my websites without being pestered about snacks, fights, or requests to use the computer. The peace was unshattered by fighting and bickering all morning.

It was divine... and I am excited for them to get home and see how their first day was. It's nice to be looking forward to seeing them, and talking to them. They will be happy and excited and bursting with with things to talk about, instead of bitching at me about how bored they are with everything in the universe and making me feel like the shittiest parent ever.

First Timers?

Hey... Are you new here? Did you stop by to see who this bitch is who left the shitty comment on your blog? HA! Did I offend you? Tough shit... If you don't want an opposing point of view get off the fucking internet.... oh, and be sure to be a coward, and delete the comment I made. Especially to that zealot asshole who's blog defends the right of a religious sect to kill in the name of God. You're an asshole.
Did I leave any comment on your blog? Are you happy to see me? This is my little corner of the internet.. and I am glad you stopped by to see it.
In either case- your blog was either enough to royally piss me off, or deserve my attention in someway. Be happy. Or don't.

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary. It has been 11 years since we ran off to the very cliche "Little White Chapel" of Las Vegas and got married in street clothes. No pretty gold rings, and hardly a penny to our names. The odds were against us making it. We spent the first months apart, in fact, by the time we were married for 5 years, we had spent more than half of it apart.

Here we are 11 years later, happy. A houseful of animals, kids and the trappings that go with married life. We still laugh, we still play, we drive each other crazy, and yes we still fight from time to time... We are facing life off day to day and most days, I think we are winning the battle.

When I am down and feeling like I can't take another second of stress or sadness, he steps up and is my strength and shield. When my heart is broken, he brings the glue, and when I get amazingly pissed off, he makes me laugh at myself and the situation. He accepts me for who I am, even though most of the time, who I am is a bitch... a funny, warm, and caring bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.

I wish yesterday could have been a better day- with the whole cat thing kinda put a damper on the making of much merry... getting through it is just another testament to this life we have.

I love you honey, and thanks for the last 11 years- I can't wait for the next ones.

Reprieve

So I took the little cat in yesterday, amongst a deluge of family tears. The plan was that we were going to have to have him euthanized. Having both a serious behavioral problem is not enough, but the double whammy of being blind makes one think that no one is going to adopt him- and he would end up being put down anyways... But then he would be alone and confused and never know why we abandoned him to a life in a cage for a month... It was heart wrenching, and a decision we agonized over for a long time.

He is back home again. The doc pleaded me into giving the stray facility 2 weeks to find a place for him. The lady who runs said facility thinks she will be able to find a home for him, given his very sweet personality and the fact that is is great with kids. Ultimately, I would like to find a way to fix the behavioral problem, and keep him myself. She thinks that the behavioral problem might be minor, and if he is the lone cat in a home he might be okay. She would just have to make ultrasure it wouldn't be a family of shits who would let the little blind guy outside, or ignore his special needs- like walking loud, announcing your presence to him, paying lots of attention to him, or keeping the furniture in one place.

So, in the mean time I am back on the investigation trail of trial and error to find a fix for his litter-box aversion problem. Even the vet said, when I explained to her the things he does, that it is bizarre. He craps in the box like a normal cat- but pees in front of it. The sand is good enough to shit in but not piss in? And he doesn't do it all the time. If any cat owners happen by here and have suggestions, let me know...

What we have tried- Aversions- "keep off" spray, moving his food to the bad pee place, tin foil, citrus scents, scaring him out of the bad place...
I also spent oodles on this shit called "Cat attract"- it smells like hot feed for horses- the concept being it smells more like the natural stuff cats like to shit in.
He has a litter-maid box, a great big one, so it is always clean. We had several boxes in the house at one time, and he chose to pee in front of just the one, so we got rid of them. We have locked him in the room with his box and food, etc for days- and he would use the box until we let him out...

Usually cats with aversion do ALL their business outside the box, and all the time. Not him. He has to be a fucking weirdo and baffle the shit out of us... any ideas would be seriously considered... C'mon folks we are trying to save his life here.

Vanity

My purse is falling apart. The poor old battered bag that it is... my beloved $12 purse. It has been my constant companion for 6 years. Now I am not one of "those" women. I do not spend hundreds of dollars on purses, nor do I ever have more than one in use at a time. I do not have a separate handbag to match each pair of shoes, and every mood.

Now hear this... spending hundreds of dollars on a purse is really fucking stupid. (It's equally stupid to spend a paycheck on a pair of shoes, too.) Why put out $400.00? It's a fucking bag! It doesn't give you status, or make you look pretty. It's a place to tote your shit... what difference does it make who's name is on it?! It carries your wallet and keys the same wether it is some name brand bag or "Bob's brand" bag. It a FUCKING BAG! If you are one of "those" women... please feel free to explain the fascination with purses and shoes that cost 2 weeks worth of groceries.

My afore mentioned best friend in high school, Heather... her mom came home one day from Dillard's. She was so proud of herself, as she had gotten a Gucchi bag for 30% off, and spent two or three hundred dollars or some shit on it. The conversation went like this...
Her..."I got this bag for 30% off! Ijust had to get it for you Heather. Isn't it cute?"
Me..."Cute, but I don't know what kind of person would spend hundreds of dollars on a bag."
Her...".... I would."
Me..."Sale? How much was it?"
Her..."$240.00"

Yes, yes, my foot likes to live in my mouth. That was the first time her mother decided I was a bad influence on Heather. She still hates me for so many similar reasons, and she's still a materialistic, fake, self deluding bitch. Consequently, her dad bought the two of us matching leather motorcycle jackets and spent half that on the both of them, but I digress.

I went to the BX to try to find a cheap purse. As luck would have it there was a sale on purses that day. Awesome... until I came to the nauseating realization that it was 25-50% off of really expensive "vanity with a strap" handbags, and most were ugly as shit to boot. 25% off of a $500 bag does not a good deal make. I could spend $400 on eBay and get a new wardrobe for every member of the house. What ever happened to the "good enough to carry shit" bags? The simple deal with straps, a pocket or two and a zipper? The few things they had under $30 were so god damned ugly or impractical that I would rather carry my shit around in a plastic grocery bag. So it's off to eBay for me, and we'll see what I can dig up before my poor old beloved purse complete bites it.

Yep, Still Freakin...

And I somehow think the stress level can only get worse... so bear with me the next few weeks while we see first hand my brain's coping measures; mainly the random thoughts and rumination of the same. I am not on my way to a manic fit, y'all, so please, do not panic. I am just wound tight as a fuckin G-String, and hate this whole (purposefully vague description) situation.

Today I lightened my mood a bit as I remembered a day in high school where I met Heather out at the Tennis courts for lunch. She was pissy and I was bitchy. We didn't want the vomit offerings of the cafeteria, despite our hunger.... and she had the saving grace of a bag of skittles. Just the thing.

She fought and bit and pulled at the wrapper for a good 2 minutes.... then she grit down, said "FUCKER!" and like magic the bag popped open... much to our chagrin, the skittles made a rainbow of fruit flavor all over the bleachers and sidewalk. It was the funniest fucking thing I had ever seen.... Not just the flying candy, but the look on my dear friend's face.... as if someone had just shot her dog in front of her. As I stood there trying (and failing) not to laugh at her.

So today while thinking of these kinds of funny bits of my past, I stood in the kitchen, totally alone in the house and laughed so damn hard I nearly pissed my pants. I don;t know why this random shit gets ahold of me when I am freaking the fuck out- but it does make for a wonderful pressure release valve.

Perhaps I should make it a trend to tell stories and anecdotes on here from my colorful and sordid past... They may end up being a lot of "You had to be there"... but laughing at me finding it so fucking funny is worth it in it's own right.

Monkey, bringeth the wrench...

This week has torn my head into little pieces and left me with an itchy brain.... and apparently hot chocolate spatters on my t-shirt.

Before any reader or friend goes jumping the gun- no one person has the whole story... but I am in full on freak-the-fuck-out mode. I could give you the schedule of the 8 or 9 flights taking flight from my brain at any one given moment.

Emotions have been running hot with a family rife with crisis. And Then... Big fucking monkey wrenches may have been tossed into this mix-o-life, and I am not sure what to think. I can talk the big talk about not freaking out until we can sort things out.... But my brain is gettin' itchy. I will be less vague when I can- once I have details and answers.

Until then, try to be understanding if I go a little bat shit ala Drusilla. Thanks for playing along.. mostly you just need to nod and smile.

It's Broken

Mother Nature is obviously fucking drunk. It's July and I am walking around in sweat shirts and long pants. Not that I am a big fan of sweating my proverbial balls off in stifling humidity, but I shouldn't be bundling up against the cold in the summer time, either. On occasion I have been known to appreciate some predictability in weather patterns. Makes it easier to plan that silly shit like say... days out and road trips.

I was told coming here that it would be a big change for me- having actual seasons. In the desert, no "real" seasons... it is varying degrees of warm and dry, ranging from 50ish in the winter to 110ish in the summer. When it does rain (about 20 days of the year) we can predict it with pinpoint accuracy, because we can see it coming from California or the Gulf for days. The thunderstorms form over your head, bow up and shit on you, then dissipate. It's like Camelot. The weather simple, as if by royal decree and such.

Not so in Germany. We can see the clouds coming, but they may or may not hump up and shit on us... Usually, if the forecasting asshats in their finite knowledge of weather say a "slight" chance of thunderstorms and rain, we expect to see animals walking past, two by two. Conversely, an "80%" chance of storms, and a weather warning of lightening brings dismal clouds and light rain, but no biblical flooding.

As it is, I am freezing. Seems Europe decided to fucking skip summer this year and move onto the depressive rains and cold of September, and told July and August's warmth and light breezes under blue skies and puffy clouds to go fuck themselves. The downside for me, besides wearing socks in the house 24/7, is the kids being locked in the house with me all. day. long. The infinite streams of "I'm bored", "I wanna go outside", and "What can I do now, Mom?" intrinsically mixed in with the screams initiated by the constant fighting are driving me (more) bat shit (than usual).

I am gonna take bets and make odds that we will be ass deep in snow this winter... Maybe even by fall. Shit, we may take a sled out for trick or treating at this rate. I am so over this idea of seasons. Seasons can suck my big white ass... I'll take nice predictable 100 degrees and 3% humidity over this shit any day.

Major PIA

Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to get rid of a car in Germany?!
Fuck me, I have been at it for 3 days!

I had to go to American customs where I sat for 25 minutes for them to print out some forms... the time was well spent by my daughter making good friends with a total stranger in the office named Margaret, whose car had caught on fire. She thought my daughter was just the cutest thing ever.... Hemi-mouth and all.

Then it was off to the guys who are buying the POS... well, taking it off my hands, as they aren't actually paying me for it, but they are giving me a credit, and sparing me the $75 in junking fees to the assholes at Ramstein. (I shan't rant about this now, but it is bullshit!) The guy filled out another handful of paperwork to take to my next destination.

German customs. Now the last time I had to deal with these pricks, it was 2 hours of the most harrowing and rude treatment I have ever seen in my fucking life... EVER. They made the DMV in Las Vegas look damned friendly... This time, It wasn't so bad. I think because I had the kids with me, and they figured they better clear me out ASAP, or they'd have to deal with a 7 and 8 year old raising hell in their offices.

And off again... Back to the buyer... again... jiggity-jig. This was day two, after the visit to PDoc, so I was already in a snit, having dealt with traffic and parking on the shittiest base parking system ever. I brought Dave (the buyer) the POS and said my goodbyes to it... called K2 to come pick me up, and waited there for 20 fucking minutes. Not done yet. Now I had to deregister the fucker. i.e., Let the U.S. Government know I no longer owed the vehicle... cause the customs forms for the dept. of agriculture is one part, the DMV/VPC is the cop-shop side of it... see? It's different. (WTF-EVAH)

When I got to the "new improved" Vehicle Processing Center, I stood in line to get sent away... I didn't have the title to the POS... so I had to come home and dig through my shit to find a 4 year old piece of paper. I went back today with the stack of papers I had collected, and finally have most of it done. That's MOST. I still have to take copies of the deregistration to the buyer. FUCK!

I am tired of this. I don't care if my new car blows the fuck up.... I will pay someone to run these shitty errands for me.

Kids Rights...?

In the past few months, my daughter has come home several times from school, in tears, because of a certain child in her class who has, in one way or another, hurt her feelings. This child is autistic. It has been explained to the class that this boy's brain is wired differently, and they are to treat him as special... Okay... Fine... Wait... What?

While I can understand wanting an autistic child to have the same shot at a normal education and have the same opportunities as "normal" children, at what point does it become okay for a special needs kid to interfere with the education for everyone else in the class?

Yesterday my daughter came home really torn up over the fact that this boy had taken a pair of scissors to the little bean plants she had been growing, and cut them down to stems. In the past he has freaked out in class, causing a scene. There have been the times that he has hit, kicked, broken stuff, and screamed.... and for Baby Girl to even think to mention it to me tells me that, in the very least, it was disruptive to the class as a whole. He has crumpled her school work, colored or written on her things, and now killed her plants that she was so excited about.

So at what point does it become okay for the school to put the needs of this one kid above the other children? I am not trying to be a massive bitch here, but seriously? How much understanding can the majority have about this kind of shit going on?

To basically tell the kids "You must tolerate his terrible behavior, even if he breaks your things, because he can't help it." is ridiculous. If he is bad enough off that the kids are supposed to accept and ignore his destructive and bad behavior then he doesn't belong in that class. He should be in a classroom with a teacher who has been specially trained to meet the needs of his disorder, and where his fits don't compromise the education, property, and sanity of everyone else. It sounds to me that they are treating him like Helen Keller when she would walk around the table and put her hands in everyone's plates... and they let her, ignoring her shitty behavior.

I was thinking of composing a letter to the teacher, but I think I lack the political correctness, nay the finesse, to put into words the mounting frustration I have with the situation. Somehow I don't think, "Keep that little bastard away from my daughter if he can't be taught to be at least civil.", doesn't sound so nice, nor something she might be receptive to.

Go ahead, flame away about my intolerance and ignorance, and whatnot. Tell me about the stats of 1 in 66, and blah, blah, blah. I agree that the teachers are not equipped to deal with the situation properly- especially the DoDEA system- but for fuck's sake, until they are, we can't just throw these kids into the random mix with everyone else and pray it all works out okay. The interim should be dealt with in the same way it has been until another system is in place; they should be pulled off with the kids who have special requirements and put with an educator equipped to deal with those problems. In the mean time, the educational system as a whole needs to be better prepared for these types of situations... a system put in place to make it easy and natural for all of the kids in the classroom, and to get what they came there for- an education.

Tossing them in the mix of a regular classroom is not beneficial to anyone. In the very least, the autistic kid will end up emotionally damaged from the social isolation of no one wanting to be his friend, because he is mean and destructive... and there is the fact of my kids being self-taught intolerance for people who are "wired differently" because of several bad experiences with them.

In the mean time I get to deal with a heartbroken little girl, because she doesn't understand why "wired differently" means mean, hateful spiteful little boy who breaks her shit, ruins her work and cuts up her little bean plants.

Beep....

MsF is not available to come to a happy holiday blog right now. She is hip deep in a full blown holiday induced pity party of epic proportions. Please leave a message at the beep and she will return your call later.

Reprive

Today I got my clearance of near sanity.... PDoc said I don't have to come back for 3 months. YAY! Tis far better than once a month as I have been for almost 2 years. I must be almost sane... ish. :) As sane as one can be when she is set with a 3 centimeter fuse on a nuclear bomb of a brain.

The entries around he may be somewhat sparse for awhile- got family coming in, and I have less than 10 days to get our collective shit together and packed into a corner. For some reason I feel the compulsive need to clean out places where no one will look anyways. (See above "almost" sane.) Everything for the road trip to Paris and Euro Disney is set up, even the rental car to get there- complete with GPS (as I tend to get lost often- really fucking often). Now all I need do is wash every sheet and stitch of laundry in the house, sweep and wash every corner, organize all the cabinets, clean out the store room, the fridge... Wow- I best get off here and get my big ass moving. (No, I don't need a roomba!)

On a side note- now that I am transferred and upgraded from asshat cockgobbling VistaPages, I need a test of the comments filter- so please leave me a bit so I can see that it is working. Thanks to my 3 loyal readers.

Moved

We are moved and propagated! YAY! Suck it VistaPages. I wasn't going to say that, but then they decided to hold my domain name hostage while they tried to sweet talk me into staying with their hacker-target, slow-POS, non-loading- Cpanel server. Fuck them.

Yes it's late this week. Bear with me.

And now that I have that off my chest... TKS. Last month we had a fight when we turned off our internet and phone and went to TCom. (Three times the speed for half the price and such...) Well, I go in to pay the bill yesterday, because my premium channels had been turned to fuzz. I didn't think it was time to pay my bill, but what the hell do I know, so I went down there. I even smiled at the son of a bitch behind the counter when I said, "Hi, I need to pay my T.V. bill."

He pulled up my account on the computer and as he continued to click that frickon mouse through screen after screen, he started looking more perplexed. "You mean your internet bill, Ma'am?" I think that he immediately realized he said the wrong thing.

"There is no internet bill. And in case you're curious, there is no phone bill either. We cancelled the internet and phone and just kept the T.V." I was a bit testy, and was accelerating towards pissed off... especially considering the fact that our internet bill used to be $130 and our T.V. bill, which is due in the middle of the month, is about $50. He jumped out of his seat like his ass was on fire and ran to get the log book... Thanks to the fuck sticks at the Ramshaft Pharmacy, I was not AT Vogelweh for him to find said paperwork.

I did make sure to thank him for his time, and I think he found the fact that I laughing comforting. Why laughing? I knew it- I just fucking knew they would find someway to screw it up. He even cracked a smile when I said under my breath, "I guess I'll go see them at Vogelweh then... cockbites." I called K2 on the cell absolutely fuming and told him about the cock gobblers, and the asses I was about to chew off when I got back to Vogelweh...

He called me back just as I pulled into the asshats parking lot- he had already taken care of it. (He loves me!) He went down after I called him and got them to pull said paperwork and find out WTF. We didn't even OWE this month's bill. I paid it 3 weeks ago. That company is brimming with fucktards. Fuck Off and Die TKS, you money scamming imbecilic bullshit artists. The U.S. Government should kick your asses off base.

News Flash...

To all the AAFES sucks members... We just got done transferring the site to a new server- so it was down over night. It should be back up for your bitching convenience. If you have any problems or questions, shoot one of us admins an email- you know where to find us :)

Kiss my ass TKS

TKS sucks. They are the German reseller company for cable, phone and internet services to the troops here in Germany. When you first arrive here in Germany, your sponsor will likely take you by the TKS offices as part of your orientation.

When all was said and done in our case, we were carrying a TV cable bill of 40 euro a month, a phone bill of 40 euro base plus long distance (which usually ran another 50), and 99 euro for the internet. This internet got us a 3 MB down/512 K up connection (on a good day). That's a fuckload of cash to be connected to the outside world... But we paid it- as we didn't have much of a choice. We didn't think we did.

Then TKS took away the one good bargain they had- it was a price deal that all the calls back to the states were .05 per minute. They just decided that they could make more by cramming the American service members up the pooper. After me spending several hours on a "Fuck that, and Fuck them" tirade, we got Vonage. We still had to pay for the German phone, but it was a little cheaper, and I didn't use it for any long distance.

Then K2 started doing some digging around. Our buddies offbase were getting 16 MB DSL from T-Com, (The parent of TKS) for 60 Euro a month- and it included the phone- a phone with all calls in Germany to land lines for free. As I looked back and saw TKS still ramming it's money grubbing dick in my ass, I got a little pissed off.

The best part was? We could get this fast fast service directly from T-com, here on base. No one had told us that before. We called TKS- they offer DSL too- half the speed- for about the same price as we were paying them for our cable modem service. It took them a week to tell us that as they had to "test the line". Deutche Telekom tested the line based on our phone number- immediately- no waiting... And we about shit our drawers- 16MB?! I think I got wood.

Woo Hoo!! So we jumped through the hoops to open a German bank account for billing, and set up DSL/phone. When I went down yesterday to turn off everything, I almost had to spring over the counter and beat the fuck out of the woman on the other side. Not only did she force me to pay through the end of the month that I don't want to use- as Germans do not believe in pro-rated anything ever- but she said my last payment wasn't there. I digress.

IF you live on base in the KMC, and are getting ass raped by TKS, you have options. The shtick is, they buy what you can get directly from T-Com for yourself, triple or more the price, cut the service in half, slap an english bill on it and resell it to you... no vaseline included...

So for the last 4 years of fucking us for a shit ton more money then we could have gotten from Deutche Telekom- I hope you fucksticks drop dead of scurvy, or leprosy, or sepsis. I know everyone needs to get theirs and all- but taking that much advantage of the military members is bullshit! FUCK OFF AND DIE, MUTHA FUCKERS!

One of those...

Today is one of those days where my life sucks. As I spent the majority of the day yesterday nursing a puking headache, the house looks like a bomb went off in it... the kitchen floor looks like I dumped the trash on it and spread it around with a wet mop... and I have 5 loads of laundry staring at me. Today is not much better, as now my headache has ordered a side of sore throat, and I twisted my bad ankle stepping on a fucking plastic toy in the hallway. Give me a hump in my back and call me Igor.

There is so much to do, and a blatant lack of motivation to get it done. The weather could be partly to blame- the blue in the sky only comes out maybe 1 in 10 days lately. I feel isolated and alone, so far from my family... My friends are gone, and phone calls just aren't cutting it. I want to sit in the sun and have a good talk with someone- a few laughs, a little cry- and it's just not possible.

When I think about the future, I get freaked the fuck out. We have options- we could stay here. We could go back to the states. Both hold perils.... Staying here; well I just don't know. After having moved so much growing up, it is tough to stay in one place for a long time. Add that to being in a foreign country and my heart gets all shriveled up when I consider spending another 3 or 4 years here, especially knowing that when we leave we'll end up still so far from home in the frozen wasteland that I think Alaska will be- or the tropical rainy bug infested jungles of Hawaii.

I feel sick at times when I realize my kids have spent more years of their life in Germany than they have in America. Of course, K2 is here. I don't wake up wondering each morning if this is the day he gets orders to Iraq. It never crosses my mind. That's a BIG, BIG plus. It is a special and unique situation compared to a vast majority of military spouses. It makes no sense to me how I can love that so much, and still long to leave... Wish we could just be done with this place.

We could roll the dice and take our chances of going back stateside in 18 months. Then we could be in proximity to a Wal-mart and Olive Garden... But that could be in some ass backwards shit hole like Tinker AFB, where going to Wal-Mart IS what to do on the weekends, and a good paying job is $6.00 an hour. More than likely, I would be there in shithole USA alone. I know as sure as I sit here that returning to the states will mean K2 gets sucked into that 12 month rotation bullshit of this dangerous and immoral war. He would likely be gone within 4 months of our return. Then I could sit in a house in tornado alley and wish I was back here- so at least I didn't go to bed sick with worry every night.

Yes, I am down and feeling like shit, and I am sure it will pass... returning to a gnawing ache in the back of my mind that I can ignore. It never leaves me completely, not really. There are no easy answers here, and I am thankful that we have a few months left to change our minds thousands of times before we settle on a plan.

Weather

It's official. I think that the weather in Germany sucks. It has been raining 95% of the days since... oh... I don't know... Thanksgiving, maybe. Being from a place that averages 360 days of sunshine a year, it has gone way beyond "not used to it", to shitty, depressing, drizzle. I am way beyond "down", I am fully into bummed out, and moving towards totally depressed.

Normally, it would be snowing this time of year- but it's not. Apparently the ski and winter sporting events here in the Alps countries are shriveling up and dying. No, that doesn't affect me, really, but it sucks for them. (And before you flood me with hate comments about ice storms, record highs, and your problems, please understand that while I empathize- I mostly don't give a fuck- This is my self wallowing depression.)

I hate cold, but would prefer snow to this constant river of muddy shit outside. At least when it is snowing, the kids go outside and play in it. Snow makes them excited and giddy- they can't wait to get bundled up and hurdle down the hill on a sled... towards a fence... at break neck speeds. With this drab grey rain, all they do is stay in the house and sigh at me about how bored they are... then they start fucking with each other as a means to alleviate said boredom. They fight, and cry, and run to me to see if I will take sides in the petty argument-du-jour.... I have to stifle my gut reaction to throw them both in a small dark room, with ball bats, and let them work it out.

This is mother nature's way of getting back at me. She's pissed off that she can no longer torture me with cramps and misery every 3 weeks, so she has arranged to have me slowly lose my fucking mind over the period of 5 or 6 months. I swear, I am going to rust.

Dumb Shit Me, and Asshole Them

The VPC- the bane of the fucking KMC.
Now, that isn't to say it wasn't entirely my fault, because it was, motherfucker, but don't stand there and be an as....
Wait- back up, let me explain for those who just joined us.

Bright and early- without coffee, I walked out the door with a list of shit to do as long as K2's leg. I was even smiling. First stop the Vehicle Processing Center. The registration on the POS is due. Registration entails paperwork, an inspection, and more paperwork. Usually, on a very good day, the process takes about an hour. Usually.

Yay! My turn to drive up to the asshat airbaby in the inspection bay. He asks if I have a spare tire. "Of course I do."
"I need to see it."
"Um... okay...."
So I open the trunk and start digging down thru the jackets, backpacks and various other bits of shit we have thrown in the trunk, to pry the plastic nut off the spare cover. Just when my arm was about to fall off from spinning the stupid thing, it comes loose and I pull the cover up- see there... lookie- pretty spare tire. I am already irritated by this point, as in 4 years I have never been asked to show my tire before. I close the trunk and say OH! FUCK!!!!!!

That's right. In the process of showing this pudwhacker my tire, I had dropped my keys in the fucking trunk. (Cue the immediate freak out.) He asks if I have a button to pop it.
"No."
"What about a spare key at home?"
"No. I don't have a spare key."
I stand there, so pissed off at myself that I am crying and shaking. I have no idea what I am going to do at this point... I decided that kicking the car was a good option, so I did that. Oddly enough it didn't help.

The German in charge of inspections comes over and asks me if I have a trunk popping button.
"No."
"A spare key?"
"No, there is only one key."
"Does anyone have a spare key?"
"NO. There is ONE key to this car, and it's in there."
"And you don't have a trunk pop button? ... The keys are in the trunk?"
"YES."
"What about your glove box? No button, or extra key?"

Yep- I fucking lost it. "Jesus H Christ! Don't you think if there was an easy fucking answer I would be doing that instead of standing here crying and freaking out?!!"

(Gee whiz mister... I'm just a girl- what's a button?) You patronizing motherfucker! He sees me crying and losing my mind, and asks me four times if I have a key or button... Christ on Crutches, you prick, how stupid do you think the average American woman is?! He then proceeded to bitch at and lecture me about how my car was blocking the inspection bay. Well, no shit, Einstein. Don't help me figure out an answer- certainly don't offer me your phone to get some help, asshole- just remind me that I am in YOUR fucking way while I am having a nervous breakdown.

I was so pissed off, I could have thrown my goddamned car out of the way. I put it in neutral, (which neither of these "car experts" knew was possible with an automatic,) and proceeded to push it out of the way- by myself as the German was