"Kumar! Still in jail, asshole! Come here!"

***NOTE: I wrote this entry about two or three hours ago, but my internet wasn�t working. I don�t know what was wrong with it. I just went behind the computer and checked all the pluggy things, then tried again and nothing. So I signed onto Yahoo IM and that worked. So I got onto Yahoo�s website from there and here I am! ***

I have no fargin� internet right now. WTF? My modem says I�m online with activity, even. All four green lights are on and activity is flickering like it usually does. So. WTF? I hope iyt comes back on soon. It was fine a few hours ago.

If I can�t get on the internet, I�ll die!

Anyway. I�m going to spend some time ranting about fucking kids so I can get it off my chest before I end up the country�s next child murderer.

I have two of Nina�s kids right now, while she goes to her doctor�s appointment (finally). She took a cab there so I didn�t have to cart her and these brats with us. Josh is an asshole kid, I�ve determined. Julie Is working her way into being one. All she has done since she got here an hour ago is cry and whine. She�s used to doing whatever she wants and that shit just don�t fly at my house. If I�m in the living room, damn right the precocious 18 month old is staying in here with me and NOT going into any other room where I cannot see you (because I�ve seen what you do to your mom�s kitchen when she�s not looking and that�s fine at your house but not mine, sistah!). Well, she threw a fit about that and kept trying to sneak out there so I put the gate up. Of course, another fit ensued about that. I�ve found, too, through her and Colin, that I have an incredible ability to completely ignore toddlers throwing stupid fits.

Which, If that�s how you want to raise your kids, like assholes, fine. But? Asshole kids acting like assholes are not tolerated by me, period. I mean when I�m in charge. Like now.

This kid argues and argues. I cut him right off now. When I say something and you�re in my house, that�s the final answer. It�s not open for negotiations. This kid is looking at a career as a lawyer, I fucking swear.

Yesterday afternoon is a prime example. I almost killed some kids, seriously. Well, a short preface: Monday morning I went to visit Nina for a bit. When it was lunchtime, I told Mickey it was time to go home for lunch. Well. You�d have thunk I�d told Josh that his mom was brutally murdered. The fucking floodworks started and the arguing started and he was all, �WHY can�t he stay here?!?�. Mickey was bitching too, but not quite as badly as Josh.

But still, a big fucking scene about going home for lunch? How about, bullshit? How about, if you keep it up, Mickey can stay home after lunch and you can�t come over?

Yeah, so yesterday afternoon, I went to Nina�s for a bit. The whole fucking crew was there, Minnie, Mickey, Makayla and Colin, plus Nina�s kids. At first they were outside and that was cool, but it started to get dark and they all wanted to come in and play in Nina�s basement. Fine.

Two minutes later, they all came upstairs. They wanted to go upstairs. Nina said no. I guess the kids thought it was up for appeal. Arguing like they�re in church. To Nina�s credit, she told them that she said NO and that�s FINAL. She does do that once in a while. Well, there�s not enough light in the basement, waa waa waa.

Ugh. I said, �Ya know what? I was planning on leaving soon anyway, and now seems to be a good time�. OMG. Another fucking scene. Josh crying like a fucking baby (�Why can�t they stay?!?� with such DRAMA, I mean, this kid is going to be an Academy Award winner, folks), Jaegan arguing, Minnie crying like it was the end of the world and Mickey whining up a storm.

The fuck?

What a fucking bunch of bullshit. We got the hell out of there anyway. But honestly, I�m all set with that shit. I told my kids� that it was CRAP and I wouldn�t tolerate it. If you can�t handle having to come home when it�s time, then you can�t handle having friends. It�s nice they live next door, but you can�t spend every fucking waking moment together.

(Makayla was incredible, though. She just goes with the flow. Here, anyway. She�s a handful for Andrea, but hey, at least not for me! I made her an example for the rest of the kids. �Look at how good Makayla�s being, she�s not crying and she�s only FOUR!�. I probably shouldn�t have, but oh well. She deserved it).

Anyway. I�ve finally just told my kids that I�m not having that crap. I don�t like it and I won�t tolerate It. And by that, I mean, if you put up a big scene every time I say it�s time to go, then ya just won�t be going over there (or they here) at all. Period.

I went over this with Josh this morning, and he tried arguing. Kid, I said what I had to say. That�s the way it is. Shut up, already.

OMG, this morning when he came in, I specifically said that he would NOT be going upstairs, because Mickey�s room is clean and staying that way (he can claim he�ll clean up his mess, but his idea of cleaning is to take all the toys, pile them up by a wall, and leave an empty spot in the middle of the room. Sorry, kid, but that doesn�t cut it). One minute later, ONE MINUTE LATER, people, he asked to go upstairs. I�m starting to think this kid is retarded.

Fun with kids. In other fun news, Hilda is going to be coming this weekend, since we�re leaving for Thanksgiving next weekend (YAY!!! for that, btw). She was up Hub�s butt to come, so whatever. I�m fairly certain that she only wants to come to: a) see Courtney next door and whatever various buddies Beavis has over (it�s always a pubescent sausage fest here on the weekends) and b) to see what she can get out of us before we go. Which is going to be nothing, cuz I�m getting close to being really broke and I have two little ones that need coats and ski pants and another big kid who needs jeans. So Hilda can suck wind and ask her mother, the person who is responsible for supporting her, to get her shit.

She does that fucking whiny �no one does anything right by me� bullshit thing. I�ve had it. But I think I�ve been over this before.

Two weeks ago when she was here, it was chilly, and she showed up in shorts. So, she and I had gone out with Nina to pick up pizza and shit. I asked her why the hell she was wearing shorts and she said, �I only have two pairs of pants that fit�.

Now, one thing that I absolutely adore about Nina is that, even though she�s 26 now, she remembers what it was like to be a kid like it was yesterday. She�s quite intuitive about kids. Like, when she saw Butthead for the first time, she assessed him on the spot, �Oh yeah, that kid parties�.

So, after Hilda made her little remark, when she wasn�t around, Nina gave me her assessment of the remark. �She�s totally trying to see if you�ll get her more clothes. I used to say the same kind of shit at her age to see what I could get out of people�.

I know I have some new readers, so you might not know the history of Hilda, so please hold off on judging me for sounding harsh. Butthead and Hilda (my step kids from Hub�s first marriage to Shauna) each live with one parent, and therefore, each is the financial responsibility of the parent they live with. And, we have done way more for Hilda in the past two years since they�ve had this arrangement than Shauna has done for Butthead, which is nothing. NOTHING. Anyway, yeah, it�s not like I�m trying to be a bitch or anything, but money�s tight right now and my first obligation is to the kids that live here.

Besides that? Hilda is a lying sack of shit who most likely has ten fucking pairs of pants at home. And also? I picked her up a pair of jeans at Wally World that weekend so she�d shut the fuck up about money that we �owe� her. (I won�t even fucking get started on that one).

Nothing cracks me up more than a fucking kid telling a parent they �owe� them money. Get a fucking clue, asshat.

So, anyway, enough of that. Time for Beavis�s ball sack update.

I took him yesterday for his first appointment with the urologist. (a digression, I always wondered what would prompt a med student to be an ob/gyn. Now I can say that I am more baffled about what makes someone become a urologist. Weird. Anyway). He has, evidently, the biggest �hydrocele� that this doctor has ever seen on a kid his age, and it�s uncharacteristic for his age, too, as he has an adult hydrocele instead of a juvenile hydrocele. There�s some difference in their structure. He also has a smaller one on his other testicle.

So, Beavis is going to have surgery. It�s minor, but will still require general anesthesia. I�ve been through this kinda shit before with a 6 week old baby going under (for a much more major procedure, too) so that doesn�t worry me as much. It�s done on an outpatient basis, and he�ll only have to miss a day or two of school. He�s relieved about the anesthetic, because he didn�t want to be awake for it, even with local anesthetic.

OMG, Hub thinks this is going to be like his vasectomy. He thinks that because he had a vasectomy, that he is an expert on all procedures testicular. He actually thought that Beavis was having it done yesterday, too boot. Imagine his surprise (and my delight in telling him), that it will be NOTHING like a vasectomy.

He irritates me sometimes.

Anyway, the doctor was quite dashing. He�s an older man, probably in his mid-fifties, and exactly what you expect when you picture a �doctor� in your mind. Professional, handsome, well dressed, etc. As he was explaining the procedure, he let me know that he has plenty of experience with the procedure, that he�s done hundreds and hundreds of them for over twenty years, you know, to set my mind at ease. I wanted to say, �Hey! The guy that did open heart surgery on my six week old didn�t even have that much experience!� (he was 40 if he was a day, that one). But I didn�t.

And? He had this incredibly huge jade plant on his desk. Some of the stalks were like three inches in circumference. I could tell it was friggin� old. I finally asked him about it. He got it when he married his wife, over thirty years ago. Evidently, the secret is to keep it dry. Which is why mine has shrivelly leaves.

Okay, I�m done. Still no fucking internet, whoopee-fucking-doo.

Ciao.

Listening to: Commercials. Again.

Currently reading: Diaryland! I'm finally back online!

Thinking about: A glass of water.