Tuesday, September 30, 2008

He's my brother....

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I love you, you crazy fucker...

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Monday, September 29, 2008

How do I love Miss Katie? Let me count the ways...

Today is Miss Katie's birthday... I don't know how old she is, isn't that awful? I'm a horrible sister. However, she's probably very grateful that I DON'T know, because I would announce it to the universe in this post...

I met Kate about.... lots of years ago. (People, I have no mind left. Don't ask me when ANYTHING happened, because I have no idea. But that makes my stories kinda fun, doncha think?) Mitchell brought her home to meet "the family."

Now... you have to understand my family. First of all, there is my dad, and his live-in-LUVAH, Crusty. Crusty has a daughter slightly older than Thing One. Let's call her Crumb. Crumb has some emotional problems and some other stuff that we won't even get into here. Let's just say that if people were placed in order, from the mentally stable at the top, down to the... um... UNSTABLE, at the bottom... my family would not be very high up. Crusty and Crumb would not even make the chart. OK?

So, you've got my dad, who is loud, and argumentative, intelligent, and he packs his jaws like a gerbil when he eats. You have Crusty, who is loud, crass, and calls people "a bunch of assidines." And no, it isn't a word. And you have Crumb, whose favorite expression, at that time (and maybe still, hell I don't know) was "stupid dummy!"

Next up, you have Mark and Michelle and the boys, though Michelle has since run for the hills, creating a scandal the likes of which this family has never... ok, yeah, we've seen it before, because we have MITCHELL.

Mark is not necessarily loud. He's a good ol' boy, who is everybody's friend. Seriously, I don't think you can meet Mark and NOT adore him. It's only after you get to know him that he begins to rub you the wrong way... Like sandpaper. Or a wire brush. Michelle was friendly and outgoing, at least way back THEN, but she, too, was LOUD. Mark's kids, BoyThing One and BoyThing Two were foul mouthed little terrorists, who called each other things like "motherfuckhead" and "cunninglingus".

Finally, a breath of fresh air in the vile pit of familial dung, you have me, and Things One and Two. I laugh, I curse, I shout, and occasionaly, I sing... though off-key. At that time, my girls would have cut off their appendages rather than say a bad word. Thing One was quiet and shy, and Thing Two, though she was NOT a fan of Crumb and would NOT hesitate to tell her at ANY moment on ANY given day, was so cute with her curls and her hillbilly accent, you couldn't HELP but love her.

And into this mix, Mitchell brings Miss Katie....

Lord have mercy...

I watched her, that day... and decided that she hated all of us. And I couldn't understand it. I mean, my God, we were FUN! How... how could ANYONE in their right mind NOT love us? I figured Kate was either NOT in her right mind... OR, it was Crusty and Crumb's fault.

It couldn't have been any of US.

Kate, on this, the anniversary of your birth, let me just tell you that I ADORE you. And here's why:

1. You are gentle and kind.

2. You have a wonderful sense of humor.

3. You are COMPLETELY in your right mind. :)

4. You opened up your heart to me, when I needed a friend so badly.

5. You are incredibly intelligent. This is a biggie, because I have a low tolerance for stoo-pid.

6. You are generous in the extreme.

7. You are a wonderful mother.

8. Even though you are a God-hater, you do not try to force your beliefs on anyone. And I'm only teasing, you are not a God-hater, you are more of a God-Doubter.

9. You tell it like it is. I can always count on you for an honest opinion. And also, you are mostly always on my side.

10. You keep Mitch.

11. And this is the most important one: YOU SHARE YOUR BOOKS WITH ME.

Seriously? You are my sister, my confidant, my "if Mitchell dies and leaves you lots of money, I will marry you and be your non-practicing lesbian LUVAH" best friend. I believe, with all my heart, that Mitchell is the man he is today because of you. And that's a good thing, Kate.

Happy Birthday, Sister. I love you.

ps. I WILL be calling to sing. And you WILL NOT laugh. k, thx, bye.

pps. INTERNETS? Be sure and read the post from last night, to my baby girl....

Sunday, September 28, 2008

10:57 PM, September 28

She is 1/2 of my heart. A beautiful, intelligent, charismatic young lady. I am ever so proud to call her my daughter. Her smile can take away all of my sadness. Her laugh reminds me that I am not alone. And each time she hugs me, I am reminded why I do not run over her screechy ass with my car....

Just yesterday, she looked like this:

Today, she turned 22:

Happy Birthday, Thing One!!



Thursday, September 25, 2008

Well if YOU didn't take it, who the fuck did?

I get blamed for everything. My God, if I'd done HALF of what I've been accused of, I'd be the world's most accomplished burglar/assassin/bitch/whore.....

If anything, and I mean ANYTHING is lost or misplaced at home, I'm the first one to get blamed for it:

"Mom! What did you do with my bill from the power company? I laid it RIGHT fucking here and now it's gone!"

"Wife, where did you hide my LED mini flashlight? It was here on the dresser when I went to bed last night!"

"Mom! Where's my new white t-shirt? I havent' seen it since we brought it home! I want to wear it today!"

If there's an argument, a disagreement, a knock-down-drag-out FREEFORALL, I'm certainly the cause of it:

"Well, YOU were the one bein' all HATEFUL and shit!"

"Well, if YOU had just listened to me, I wouldn't have gotten mad, and the whole thing could have been AVOIDED!"

"Look, I haven't done anything wrong, I'm the VICTIM here!!"

If there's a question, a suspicion, an accusation one can pull from THIN AIR and pin on me, it will be done:

"Mom, who are you texting? Is it a MAN? Do I need to tell DADDY?"

"Who was that who just spoke to you? A client? What KIND of client?"

"Where are you? Who are you with? Is that a man's voice I hear? Who the FUCK are you with?"

At work, it's the same fucking thing:

"Mr. Lawyer? I called earlier and your rude secretary hung UP on me!!!"

"This bill is LATE! Why didn't it get paid?"

"You double booked me for 1:15. Can you not read? The appointment book already HAD someone down for 1:15?"

"Why didn't you do the dishes?"

"Why isn't the filing done?"


I'm losing my sweet disposition, here, people.... If I weren't so pretty and sweet and FUNNY, I'd think people didn't LIKE me!

But, as usual, I've come up with a solution. I'm going to print the following sign, and hang it in my home and office:

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Frozen in time....

This is my family. At the front, left, is Mark. And he has HAIR! And of course, he wouldn't be Mark without his bottom lip stuffed full of shit.. er, I mean snuff...

I'm in the middle, and see how UNfat I am? This picture is PRE-good hair, by the way.

To the right is Mitchell, with that million-dollar-smile.

In the back, on the right, is my dad, looking particularly goofy. That's because, apparently, my dad believed if he looked directly at the camera, it would steal his soul. I don't think I own a picture of him looking into the camera. Note that Daddy's jaw is stuffed full of shit also. Lot of shit stuffing goin' on in my family back then, seems like.

On the left, in the back, is my tiny little wonderful mother. My mother with the big hair. The source of most of our smiles.

This is a "frozen moment", a snapshot of one tiny, precious instant, when my family was happy. I can assure you that probably no more than five minutes after this picture was taken, Mitchell was likely doing something that made me call him an asshole, Mark was scrunching up his face, in that look he gets when I'm LOUD, and Daddy was brooding about something that someone did to piss him off.

But my mom's smile, her happiness, would have remained. We were at my Aunt JoAnn's house that day, either for Thanksgiving, or just after Christmas. Mom would have been happy just to spend time with her sister, and my cousin Randy. For that matter, we ALL were happy to be spending time with Jo and Randy. Everyone ignored Uncle Harold, who was a grouchy old bastard. Kevin was practically invisible, and I was the only one who liked JohnPaul.

You couldn't help loving Aunt JoAnn. Her sweetness and willingness to please, combined with her intelligence and wit, well she was just... awesome. Had I not had the absolute WORLD'S MOST WONDERFUL MOTHER, I would have picked Aunt Jo for my mom. Except then Uncle Howie (a name JohnPaul and I called him to piss him off) would have been my dad. And that would not do...

Cousin Randy is one of those people whose goodness is like a light. It shines brightly in any situation, at any time, and on any day or night. He was, and is, just as comfortable playing gin rummy and listening to the woes of his ADORABLE sixteen year old cousin (ME!!) as he was talking politics, coal mining, and unions with my dad. And as comfortable playing chess or shooting pool with my brothers. Randy was who you needed him to be. Friend, confidant, minister, counselor...

My family used to visit Aunt Jo and Uncle Howie several times a year, for overnight visits. They'd come to our house too, though Howie wouldn't usually want to spend the night, the old shit.

Their home was a place of peace for us. An island of calm in the midst of some of our trauma... Most of my happy memories from my childhood somehow involve Cousin Randy or Aunt JoAnn. I don't ever remember not wanting to go visit, or not having a good time while we were there...


After my mom died, Aunt Jo, in her grief, cut all of us out of her life. She was angry at my dad, and probably me, for keeping my mom at home to die. Aunt Jo thought mom would have lived longer had she been in the hospital. And maybe she would have, but that was not where she wanted to BE. She wanted to be at home, in her own bed. Surrounded by her things, and her family.

Anyway, for several years I did not see Aunt JoAnn, except by accident. I hid my hurt, and showed my anger, swearing to walk away without a word, should she ever approach me. I don't think anyone was fooled by my show. They knew how much I loved her. The truth is, I WAS angry, but not for the reasons I gave. I didn't care that she was mad at my dad. I didn't care that she thought we shortened mom's life. I NEEDED her, I needed someone for ME, someone whose shoulder I could lay MY head on. I needed my "second" mom.

And I felt she let me down big...

Now, I realize I let her down big too. I should have gone to her, I should have told her what was in my heart, done whatever necessary to preserve our relationship. Instead, I let time slip by, and let the pain and anger harden my heart...

Aunt Jo and I have since reconciled, to a degree. We speak now. We hug. I kiss her soft little wrinkled cheek. We laugh, and talk. But I only see her once a year, and that ache, that need for her in my life, that has never gone away....

I think she is comfortable with the way things are. I don't get a feeling of "unfinished-ness" when I'm with her...

So, I make do with my happy little memories, and my "frozen moments", and I let it be...

Friday, September 19, 2008

Miss Anne in Wonderland...


"mmm, yeah? What?"

"um... Daddy's drinking ranch dressing."



"He's what?"

"He's drinking the ranch dressing. Pouring it in his mouth. Swallowing. DRINKING. THE. RANCH. DRESSING."

......<---(that'd be me, walking to the kitchen to take a look)

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Eating chicken."

"Are you DRINKING ranch dressing? Like, as a beverage?"

"There's no food."

"You just said you were eating chicken!"


....<----(that's me again, walking back to my computer)

"Dear Brother Mark: Please find me a goddamn place to live, and soon. The Mad Hatter has finally gone 'round the bend. Love, your sister, Alice."

The End

Thursday, September 18, 2008

color me.... looking, looking....

For a new home....

not a blog home...

a real, honest-to-God home. a place to live. a place to lay my head. a place to heal.

A place to be Miss Anne Derstood.


A place to be melodyann....

It's time....

time to fly...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Raising Aristotle... (Part One)

I have a story to tell. Read on....

Thing 1 calls me, out of the blue, the other day...

"Mom," she says, "I'm not sure I want to go to law school. I've just been so upset, because I know it's what I've planned for so long, and I owe student loans and shit, but I just don't think I want to be a lawyer! I shouldn't pursue a career that isn't going to make me happy!"

My first thought was, Oh God help me Jesus, she's wanting to get married. I'll fucking KILL her.

"Wha-What are you wanting to do?" I manage to choke out, dreading the words I know are coming. And I'm going to have to fly all the way to Italy to kill that little fucker she's wanting to marry. Shit. I don't have enough money to fly to Italy. I don't have TIME for this. I'm getting more angry by the SECOND.

"I think I want to get my master's in Philosophy..." she says.




Relief pours over my body in waves. She DOESN'T want to get married! She's not leaving the country in a fit of passion and moving halfway around the world where I can't get to her! Oh, thank you God! Thank you, tiny little eight pound eight ounce baby Jesus!! But wait, what was that she said? She wants to get WHAT?

"Thing 1, what the FUCK did you just say to me?" I demand.

Immediately, she becomes defensive, as if I had said something BAD to her!

"Mom! Goddamnit! Just listen to me! You want me to be happy, don't you? You want my life to have meaning? I don't WANT to be an attorney anymore, I'm so STRESSED!"

"But... but... but... what the hell are you going to do with a degree in PHILOSOPHY? What CAN you do with a degree in philosophy, THINK?"

"Goddamn sonofabitch," says Thing 1, ever eloquent. The degree of her cursing and the apparent LOWERING of her intellect is directly proportionate to how pissed she currently is at me. "You can do LOTS of things with a degree in philosophy! Lots and lots of Goddamned things!"

"Name one then! If there are that many, just name ONE!"

This, then, is when she begins to lose her HUMANITY, and she begins to GROWL at me. "Well, I can't Goddamn Mother-Fuck-Ing THINK of one right now, but there. ARE. LOTS. OF. GODDAMNED. THINGS!"

Her voice is so deep, and the growl so completely GUTTERAL, that I pause for a moment to wonder if this is how it would be to talk to a dog... And wouldn't it be interesting if Vincent-the-Saving-Dog could talk to me? A conversation with Benny (don't ask... it's a nickname... try saying "Here, Vincent-the-Saving-Dog! fifty times a day and see how long it takes you to find a nickname) begins playing through my head:

"Benny! You're talking! Incredible! Say something to me!"

And Benny would say: "Something TO me! Ha. Haha. Waka, waka waka!"

"Benny, this is amazing! There is so much I want to SAY to you! But first, I have to know... you DO love me as much as I love you, don't you?"

"What, are you KIDDING me, here? I follow you from room to room, sleep beside your bed, lick your face when you cry, starve myself when you're gone, and stand perfectly STILL while you cut clumps of hair off my WEINER, and you want to know if I freakin' LOVE YOU? No, it was always about the KIBBLE, baby!"

"Oh, Benny!" I say as I throw my arms around him... "You DO love me! You DO!"

"Mom! MOM! Goddamnit Mom!" Benny screeches in my ear... But... But wait. Benny wouldn't screech in my ear! He LOVES me!

"Goddamn MOTHERFUCKER! I'm hanging up this Goddamn phone, because YOU never listen! Because you don't CARE!"


It's HER.

The Spawn.

"I am SO listening," I shout. "I AM!"

"Well, what did I just say, then?" she shouts in my ear.

"You said I never LISTEN! You said I dont CARE! Which is a complete and total lie!"

"Before that! What the motherfucking hell did I say before that! When you weren't Goddamn LISTENING TO ME?" she growls at me again.

Oh, I am fucking getting tired of this. So, I do what I always do in this situation. Because, believe me, we have this situation a LOT.

I hang up.


Sweet, sweet silence. The sound of peace. The sound of nothing....

And any moment now she will call back, and she will apologize... and I will pout a little, but ultimately I will forgive her, because she is my baby, and even though she is some kind of weirdo freak with the gutteral language and the growling... she is still MINE.



Yep. Any moment now, she'll call back. Maybe I won't even pout this time...












I look at my phone, check to make sure it hasn't died. But no. Phone's good.



And she doesn't call back.

She. Doesn't. Call. Back.

I flirt with the notion of calling HER, but decide to wait. I'm at work, she's probably on her way to class, I'm sure she will call later. She can't just fucking change her whole life PLAN without discussing it with me. She'll call.

Except she doesn't.

It's been a week.

It's been a fucking week.

She called me one time, responding to a text I sent her about Anny-Banany (the cleaning lady, and believe me, we will discuss THAT shit in another post) and when I said to her, "Thing 1, I need to talk to you about these decisions you are making," she said, "I cannot talk to you about this," and hung up on ME.

I have been thrown out of the loop.

And I don't like it, not even one little bit.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

She's all that and a poet, too....

loneliness is a warm, iridescent mist

tiny drops of infinite beauty

so beautiful to see, they cover me...

i lift my face to let the warmth pour over me

and down, around, and through me, filling me...

tiny drops of infinite beauty

they cover me.

loneliness is a cold, cold bitter wind

a frozen breath of used-to-be

so sad to see, it blows through me

i turn my back and feel it pushing me...

and pulling, twisting, turning, tossing me..

a frozen breath of used-to-be

it blows through me...

loneliness is a thick, dark emptiness

a swirling, slithering black infinity

so terrible to see, it clings to me...

i raise my arms and try to breathe

it fills my eyes, my nose, my throat; it's choking me

a swirling, slithering black infinity

it clings to me...

it's killing me

~Miss Anne Derstood~

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Thirty-Fourteen Things....

In honor (or perhaps in horror) of the fact that I will soon be thirty-fourteen, and doesn't that just sound BETTER than forty-four?, here are a few things you may or may not know about me--

1. I was born on November 8, 1964.

2. I was born in Chicago, IL. I've never been back there, but it's one of the things on my list of "Places I'd Like to See Before I Die of Fatness."

3. I learned to read when I was four years old. I didn't go to kindergarten. My brother Mark taught me to read. I never read kid's books. Except for the Bobbsey Twins. I sooo had the hots for Burt.

4. No books were ever off limits for me. I've never made any be off limits to my children either.

5. I love words. I love to read them, I love to speak them, write them, sing them, and listen to them spoken to me. I love to manipulate them into something that, hopefully, says something people like to hear.

6. I have opinions, but I don't think I'm pushy. I am a firm believer in the "let's agree to disagree" mindset.

7. I have a pink-puffy-hearted love for scrambled egg sandwiches with ketchup.

8. I have changed so much during my lifetime that I often don't have any idea who I am anymore. Not all the changes are bad. Most of them are not good.

9. I have a terrific need to have someone in my life who ADMIRES me. This is often in direct conflict with my husband's need to have NO ONE in my life who admires me. And this might be due to the fact that I'd rather the person admiring me be a member of the male population. I can't help it, I like men. I like it when they like me. So sue me. Or... you know... divorce me.

10. Currently, my favorite television shows are Prison Break and House. I am also diggin' Bones. haha. I made a funny.

11. I like puzzles and word games, and by LIKE I mean that I am obsessed to the point of OCD about them. I am very good at Word Twist... aren't I, Janet? hehe I have several Sudoku books strewn about the house and my office, so that I am never more than four or five feet away from a puzzle, should the need to place numbers in boxes arise. And it does, more often than you know.

12. The safest place in the world for me is with Mitch and Miss Katie. My first instinct, when things get bad, is to run to them. Since the whole DIVORCE thing came up, they've BOTH called me to remind me I am welcome. My safe place is ready for me, whenever I need it.

13. My mother died of brain cancer 18 years ago this November 22. I am not "over" her death yet. I don't think I ever will be. However, something inside of me let go of something this year, because I do not feel that same terrible, horrible ache that always fills me in the fall of the year. For that, I am eternally grateful.

14. I am scared of moths. And Jell-0.

15. Janet reminds me so much of my mother sometimes that I get all misty-eyed. Except that she says Fuck alot. I believe God sent her to me. It ALMOST makes me not mad at Him anymore. Almost.

16. I have a raging, pitch-black fear of death. And of dying alone. And of my children finding me alone, and dead.

17. I have a coffee mug that says, "I see STUPID people." It is my favorite mug. One of my favorite fantasies is of me, drinking poison, from my "I see STUPID people" mug. It never fails to make me smile.

18. I am not vain in any way. Except sometimes, about my hair. I can't help it. I've got great hair.

19. My favorite perfume is Princess, by Vera Wang. Mitch and Kate bought it for me for Christmas. Dear Mitch and Kate: I need more. I have about four sprays left. K, thx, bye. Love, Mel.

20. I am not political. I do not vote. I do not care. I am a registered Republican only because it drove my father-in-law batshit crazy. I miss my father-in-law.

21. I want to learn sign language.

22. I have committed many sins in my lifetime. I have forgiven myself for most of them. I am only human. I will probably commit many more before I die. Of FATNESS.

23. I do not like green eggs and ham. I know this, because I ordered it from IHOP once. Eggs and ham should never be green, that's all I'm sayin'.

24. I do love pancakes. And how. Hence, the terrible FATNESS. I think people who tear their pancakes into little strips and DUNK them in syrup should be drawn and quartered. I will not mention any names, Thing 1 and Thing 2.

25. I am a fairly good cook. This was not always so. I used to be PROUD of my ability to NOT BE a good cook. I used to brag that if it didn't come in a can, a box, or a bag, we wouldn't be serving it at MY house.

26. That was before my mother got sick. I learned to cook for her. She didn't like things that came from cans, boxes, or bags.

27. I now make the world's BEST cornbread. I should be getting my award from the WORLD anyday now...

28. I miss having acrylic nails. I miss having manicures and pedicures. I miss getting MASSAGES. If my husband hadn't met my nail guy and realized he wasn't gay AFTER ALL, I would still be getting my manicures, pedicures and massages. Dammit.

29. Come to think of it, I REALLY REALLY want my nails back. Dear Mitch and Kate: My birthday is coming soon. I really, really want fingernails. K, thx, bye. Love, Mel.

30. I used to be afraid to drive. That is because Husband told me I would never make it anywhere alive. I proved him wrong by driving to Georgia. haha, Husband. You forgot that I LAUGH in the face of adversity.

31. I miss my daddy. I want to go see him, but I have no vacation days left. Damn, and double damn.

32. I just ordered a copy of the movie Bad Ronald. If it doesn't scare the shit out of me, I want my money back.

33. I have a book fetish. I have hundreds of books. I have not read all of them. I keep buying more. I will not part with even one. Husband hates them. I don't care. He hates me too. I still don't care.

34. I don't like people, as a general rule.

35. I really like having general rules.

36. If I could live anywhere, anywhere in the world that I wanted to live, I would live in North Carolina, near the ocean.

37. I truly hate and despise West Virginia.

38. I do not read the news. Nor do I listen to it on TV or Radio. It depresses me.

39. I believe in God. I am just currently mad at Him.

30-10. Another of my favorite daydreams is to go on a nationwide vacation, visiting blogging friends in every state. If I ever win the lottery, or inherit a buttload of money, I'm going to do that.

30-11. I have an ache inside where Luann used to be. I miss her. I miss talking to her. I miss her "sigh"-ing at me. Dammit.

30-12. I want a new camera. I don't even know WHERE my old one is. Probably Anna-Banana stole it to take naked pictures of herself to give to Husband.

30-13. I wish he'd marry her.

30-14. The person who said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself" obviously never met Husband. Or, never had a brother who claimed to put bb's in his cereal. I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

In the face of ADVERSITY....

UPDATE: I found this in my drafts this morning, and wondered WHY IN THE HELL DID I NOT POST THIS? And then I remembered... Oh yeah, this was JUST before Papaw died.... So, here for your perusal, is further proof of my vast and superior bravery in the face of ADVERSITY...

So, I wake up yesterday morning, happy as a bug in a rug...

Ok, not so much HAPPY as, say, NOT MISERABLE... which is a mighty improvement if I do say so myself. And I do.

I spend my time packratting on Facebook, and beating the SHIT out of Janet at WordTwist, (*note to Jenni* I want a REMATCH!!) and then I go get ready for work. All is well in my world.

And then I go to get some ice out of the freezer, and notice that ALL OF THE ICE SEEMS TO BE MELTING.


This can't be good.


I take a deep breath and decide that I will not let ADVERSITY rule me, thank you very much. Because I have a secret weapon. I have ANNA. The wonder cleaner. HA! I laugh in the face of adversity!! I finish getting ready, write a note to Anna that says, "Dear Anna, The fridge seems to be dying. Please take everything out and move it to the fridge in the garage. Thank you."

And off I go to work.

When I get to work, I remember that Husband has the ONLY REMOTE CONTROL for the garage, because apparently I cannot be trusted in a giant room full of tools and old cars, and I'm going to need to make arrangements for Anna to get the remote.

Not a problem. I LAUGH in the face of adversity, right? HAHA, adversity... HAHA.

I call Husband and tell him I will send Anna by to pick up the remote, because the fridge is dying. And we have a mini-conversation:

Husband: How do you know the fridge is dying?

Me: It left a suicide note.

Husband: What?

Me: Never mind. I know it is dying because everything in the freezer is MELTING.

Husband: Did you check to see if it's plugged up?

Me: Gosh, I never thought of that! Gee, I bet that's the problem! No, you doink, I didn't check to see if it's plugged up! The lights are working. The FAN is working.

Husband: Did you check the controls? Maybe somebody screwed with the controls.

Me: Ooops, I forgot to tell you, I got bored last night and decided to fuck with the fridge controls, just to see what would happen. Jesus. Are you trying to tell me you don't think I have enough sense to know when the FUCKING refrigerator is DYING?

Husband: Maybe the freezer door wasn't shut tight.


Husband: Ok, call Anna, and tell her to come get the remote.

I slam down the phone. Ok, not really because I was on my cell, but I SLAMMED my finger on that END button, let me tell you...


And then I realized I don't have Anna's number.




I call Husband back and tell him I don't know Anna's number. And we have THIS conversation:

Husband: um.... it's 555... 29999.

Me: That's too many numbers.

Husband: What?

Me: That's too many numbers! You said the last FOUR numbers were 29999.

Husband: Right. 29999.

Me: That's 5.

Husband: What the hell are you talking about? There's no 5. It's 29999.

Me: My God, this is like a Vaudeville act. A bad one.

Husband: Goddammit, I don't have TIME for this. I'm WORKING.

Me: As opposed to me, who is in a TALENT CONTEST today, here in my office.

Me: Listen, you gave me too many numbers. What are the last FOUR fucking numbers of her phone number? And why the fuck do you know her number anyway?

Husband: This is ridiculous. The first one is a TWO. The rest are nines. I gotta go, bye.



I spend ONE minute contemplating whether I should call him back and hang up on HIM, because HE KNOWS I HATE IT WHEN HE HANGS UP FIRST.

Then I spend ONE minute contemplating why the fuck my husband knows the CELL phone number of our cleaning lady when *I* don't know it, and I'm a number FREAK.

Then I remember that I LAUGH in the face of adversity, HAHAHAHA.

And I call Anna.


Who is in Florida.


Of course! Where ELSE would she be?


Our office manager came into my office when I started to beat myself in the head screaming, "I LAUGH in the face of ADVERSITY!!!!"

She tells me to take the day off, go home, fix the problem, rest, rejuvenate my soul, and come back bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow. She already cleared it with the boss. Go. GO!

So, I do....

I drive to Husband's work to get the remote. He has no choice but to give it to me, because the FRIDGE is dying. I make a mental note to move some of his tools around and leave BABY footprints with the side of my fist in the dust on the floor in front of his bathroom. (have you ever done that? the baby footprint thing? I will take a picture later and show you. It's AWESOME.)

And then I drive home.


Where I discover that I am locked out of the house. Because ANNA has my key.


And Anna is in Florida.




So I walk to the back of the house, where we keep the SPARE key.


Only it's not there.


And then I remember that it's not there, on account of it's laying on my DESK in the LIVING ROOM, because I didn't take it back LAST WEEK when I got locked out of the house.


I start to giggle.


And then I remember that Thing 2 has a key! HAHAHAHA, adversity, HAHAHAHA!!!

I drive to the high school, where Thing 2 is currently running laps in the hot sun on the parking lot of the high school. Which she is NOT supposed to be doing, because of the HEADACHES.

I get her attention and tell her to come over to my car. And we have THIS conversation:

Me: Why are you running?

Thing 2: Because everyone else is running.

Me: If everyone else ran over the side of a mountain, would you do that too?

Thing 2: Mom, why are you here?

Me: You are not supposed to be running! Do I need to see Mr. Band Director and tell him you are not to run?

Thing 2: Mom, don't you dare embarrass me. Why are you here?

Me: Do you have a headache?

Thing 2: Yeah.

Me: *sigh*

Me: I need your key to the house. I am locked out. The fridge is dying.

Thing 2: Maybe it's unplugged.


Thing 2: They are locked in the bandroom. I can't get to them til we go inside.


Thing 2: Mom! Stop it! What's wrong with you? Hang on, I just remembered I left them in my backpack, hang on I'll get them. Stop laughing, you're embarrassing me!!

Me: (whispering) I LAUGH in the face of adversity...

So, I get the key, and I go home. And I walk into my house, and it's hot. Oh God, it's so hot in here and I know I have to empty that damn refrigerator all by myself. So, of course the first thing I do is sit down and smoke a cigarette.

Many trips to the garage, many near heart attacks, many "Fuck YOU adversity"'s later, I stand, my hair wringing wet, my face red, my ample bosom heaving, and I realize these truths:

I HATE my refrigerator.

I HATE Anna.

I am the fucking QUEEN of Adversity.

I have only thus far cleaned out the freezer. I still have much to do.

I need a nap.

Really, there's only one thing I can do next. Isn't there? I smoke a cigarette. Then I take a nap. Then, when Thing 2 walks through the front door, I get up and announce, "Take the rest of the stuff out to the garage and put it in the fridge out there. I'm not feeling good."

Ha HA, adversity. Ha HA...

You are no match for Miss Anne....

Monday, September 1, 2008

Suffering fools uneasily....

I've got a real problem with stupid people. I don't mean the kind of person who has a legitimate learning disability. I don't mean developmentally disabled people.

What I mean is "educated" people (and I use that term LOOSELY) who have no fucking idea how stupid they are....

The kind of person, who, when you say to them, "Your father's GODDAMN will HAS to be probated, you pig-fucking hillbilly!" (sans, of course, the words Goddamn, pig-fucking, and hillbilly), he says, "NUH-UH! HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO MOM!! It's all HERS!!"




The kind of person who stands at the dinner table and says, "Yeah, I hate niggers, they took away all my rights!"

And you say, "Oh for the love of all things tiny, holy, and Jesus-like. What rights have you lost because of ANYONE?"

And he says, "Just you wait. They'll take yours too, Missy."

And you say, "HA! I laugh at your face! Your brother-in-law already took away all mine."




I live on an idiot farm. And the idiots have run amok....


So, I go to the doctor on Friday and I'm sitting on the exam room table, naked as the day I was born, only many, many pounds larger, when my doctor walks in.

"Good morning, Miss Anne, how are you?" he says in his caring doctor voice.

And I promptly burst into tears. "Waaaaah! My head hurts! It's been hurting for weeks! My eyeballs are trying to pop themselves out of my eyes, my brain is trying to ooze out my ears, my husband wants to divorce me, my father-in-law just died, my kids are complete bitches, and I miss my mother! Waaaaah!"

He sits back in his chair and says, "Tell me about the headache..."

You gotta love a doctor who can sift through that kind of shit-storm.

Apparently, I now have high-blood pressure. But my doctor thinks it COULD be due to stress. (Um... DUH?) And so I have to be rechecked in 3 weeks. At that time, if it's still high, I will have to go on blood pressure meds.

Thing 1 made it home safely, and so did my niece, who I adore. Friday was a good, good day, with the exception of the aforementioned doctor appointment.

Saturday was a whole 'nother story....

Which I don't actually care to talk about, except to say, I do not understand how making myself into a doormat for my children could created in them such disdain and utter contempt. Most of the time, I'm so proud of my girls and their wonderful senses of humor, their fabulous minds, their sweetness and beautiful spirits. However, at times, (possibly it's the full moon?) they turn into raving BITCHES, whom I could cheerfully run over with my car.

And so it was on Saturday, when I spent a good part of the day in the cemetery, boo-hoo-ing like a hobo.

And so it was on Sunday morning, when I had been yelled at, in no particular order, by the husband, the eldest daughter, the youngest daughter. Even the fucking dogs had barked meanly at me.

And I cried again.

And my head hurt. Sweet Crispy Jeebus, I can't even describe to you the pain. I was ready to hang it up, give up the ghost, buy the farm, and blah-blah-blah....

I can't sleep. I wake up approximately every two hours... go pee. Stand an moan at the sonic boom and it's aftershock going on inside my head. Smoke a cigarette. Check my email. Smoke again. Go back to bed. Spend an hour trying to get to sleep. Do it all again 2 hours later.

My she wolves and my husband had me in tears before nine o'clock this morning.

I determined to pack my shit TODAY, and move into my office this evening. My boss will be gone for the next two weeks, so maybe I could get some rest?

Then I thought, "No. I'll go to the only place where I can get REAL rest. Where else on earth would I even consider going except to Mitch?"

And then I remembered that I have a job. A job where I have no more vacation days. And a bankruptcy sitting on my desk that will require at least a week to finish.

And then I began to feel trapped, like a rat. And I began to feel like I was drowning. And so I did the only thing I know to do under such circumstances. I went back to bed.

I truly am at a loss here. I go out of my way to try to do EVERYTHING anyone asks of me, even the HUSBAND, to keep things peaceful and running smoothly. I've spent myself into a pool of debt that resembles the mighty Mississippi trying to keep up with what my girls want. I make phone calls for them. I make appointments for them. I fix things that are broken, I step into situations they can't (or, more typically, WON'T) handle. In short, I'm busting my fat ass trying to please everyone in my family.

And in return, they despise me.

My daughter said she couldn't STAND me. My daughter said I was WORTHLESS and USELESS and a LIAR.

My husband said he wants me OUT, but wait, maybe not, but yeah, get the fuck out of here, but wait, if you will STOP fucking around with the MEN you can stay, but no, I can't forgive you, just leave.... But you go with nothing and I will never EVER be able to let you be happy. Don't try to date anyone, don't try to fall in love, don't try to have FRIENDS. Because I will ruin it, I will ruin YOU, I will ruin any chance you have at happiness. But I probably won't kill you.

My friends say Go! Get out of that madhouse! You are worth more than that! You deserve a life! You deserve to be happy! We support you!

My family says, "Come to us! We love you! We will help you, comfort you, take care of you, let you rest. We LOVE you!"

My brain tells me, "If you don't do SOMETHING, you are going to die. You are going to STROKE the fuck OUT, and dying is not something that you can fix, Miss Fix-it."

And my heart... my poor broken, weary, terrified, shrunken heart says to me, "I don't care what you do, but don't hurt me anymore...."




I wasn't going to do this today. I had a snappy, perky post all ready about HOW I CANNOT TOLERATE BUT JUST SO MUCH STUPIDITY, JUST SO MANY FOOLS. It would have made you smile. It could have elicited a quirky little chuckle. It probably would have made you laugh till you spit some sort of food or liquid onto the face of your computer screen. It most assuredly would have made you pee a little.

But apparently, I am the fool here. I am the moron frozen in indecision. I am the idiot with a sign on her back that says, "Please, I"m not down yet, go ahead and kick me."




I'm going back to bed... Happy Labor Day, Internets....

Miss Anne would love you, if she had it in her....