"Dream it, you fucking dreamers"
(Okay, this was originally an email to a friend--who's at work, so I had to edit myself in the original, but I added swearage for you--but it made me laugh at my pathetic life, so I decided to share it with y'all. Enjoy).
Good Lord.
Yesterday was a big clusterfuck. After I ran some errands (including bringing the spousal unit band aids as he managed to tear up one of his thumbs. On a railroad tie, which was a real railroad tie used by the fuckin' trains, I'm sure that's a tetanus shot begging to happen. The guys he's doing work for was there when I showed up, and we were chatting and I mentioned something about GOD FORBID YOU WEAR GLOVES and the guy says, "You're not much into personal safety, you should wear safety glasses and gloves" etc etc. OMG Have we been down the road about glasses. Being half blind and all, he's supposed to wear them, also for his vision, and we spent cash ($400) on a second pair of glasses after he effed up the damn ones Worker's Comp paid for, and what happened not two days after we purchased those? He lost them. WTF. He has possession of every single Dunkins coffee cup he's ever bought in his truck--aka Dunkin Donuts dumpster--but hang on to a pair of glasses? Not even remotely possible. And I've told him a bajillion times, when he's cutting wall block or whatever with a chop saw, how he could easily fuck up his other eye and then be totally blind, but of course, WTF do I know, right? I told the guy, "I've been over the safety issues with him, he doesn't listen. Good luck")--
But I digress. I did say I didn't want to P&M (piss and moan, I shortened it) about him, didn't I? Well, that was yesterday. But I know that made you laugh and that's cool.
Anyway, after I ran my errands I came home and took a nice walk on the trails out back. My first time ever by myself, no kids. It freaked me out and I didn't get far. The trails are fairly isolated, and there are coyotes and bears out there, I know that. When I'm with the kids, they make all kinds of noise. I don't hear every little rustle in the trees or on the ground, and the kids are good at announcing to wildlife that we're there. So as I'm quietly walking along, I can hear all kinds of stuff moving around, and I got skeered. LOL. What a loser. Only when I was directly behind my house, maybe 100 ft into the woods, I caught sight of a deer running away. I surprised it. That was kinda cool.
Anyway (I love that word). Then Beavis wanted to go to Bob's for some clothes. I owe him some because we were (are) so broke this summer that I couldn't do much school shopping for the kids and have been chipping away at it.
Shopping with Beavis is like Chinese water torture. He is The Master of Indecision. One tee shirt (a $19 effin TEE-SHIRT. Cuz it said Burton or Fox or Billabong on it. Ridic.) and two pairs of pants = one hour in Bob's. He (I) found a pair of jeans right off the bat, and the tee. Oh the second pair of pants. OH LORD. He went through all the jeans, of course the ones he really likes are $50 and, um, no. Unless that's all you're getting. LOL. This kid only wears jeans. That's it. And one pair of khaki-ish cargo shorts. So, in my wisdom, I observed cargo pants and said, "Hey, Beavis, why don't you take a walk on the wild side and get some of these for a change". So, then, it becomes the search through, I don't know, 200 pairs of effin pants to find his size. Which is basically, tall and skinny. Yeah. Took forever. I wandered off to try on sunglasses cuz that there I could spend all day doing.
Then Minnie sees this stupid little bag with a diary and stickers and crap in it and she HAS TO HAVE IT. Yeah, except not. And now, I have found the perfect sunglasses, and I want them, but I can't because the girl is going to give me more grief than she is already. And she cried, not like a spoiled brat, but just a sad little heartbroken cry to make me feel bad or something. I'm all, "woman? You never even knew that thing existed five minutes ago and now you're crying???" Lord help me. (oh yeah, except he hates me and is probably enjoying watching me. I'm saying, in the middle of Bob's, "Hand me the noose, I'm going to do it right here in the junior's department!!!").
Meanwhile, Mickey is zipping all over the place at about 150 mph. In the clothes racks, out of the clothes racks, making earrings out of necklaces, putting himself inside clothes on the rack. And having himself a grand old time. And imitating Dane Cook's car alarm bit.
Then, Beavis wants to try on clothes but no one is at the fitting room. Oh no! Horror of horrors! I said, "If no one is there, you can just go in". Oh no no no. He can't do THAT. Now it's Let's Stress Over Crap Time. So, I find a nice Bob's worker, and I say (loudly, cuz I'm getting my kicks in here where I can, and embarrassing my son is a kick, absolutely), "EXCUSE ME? MY SON OVER THERE? HE NEEDS TO TRY SOMETHING ON BUT NO ONE IS AT THE FITTING ROOM". And she says, "Oh he can go right in". I siad, "Thank you very much. HEY BEAVIS, YOU CAN GO RIGHT IN". Even though I know he heard her.
One hour and seventy bucks later, I was free. Except, the girl is giving me looks and grief like you wouldn't believe over that damn purse thingie or whatever it was. And. And. AND. I had the NERVE not to stop at a vending machine cuz she had quarters.
I'm going to miss all this fun when I'm at work all day. I'll have to squeeze it in on my days off.
Then I get home and there's the spousal unit. #1 on my Shit List. I keep mentioning the bills that are overdue (remember last week and the cell phone bill? Still not paid), and he keeps blowing me off. He's handling the cash from his side jobs and last night I did some rough math in my head and I realize, he's frucking it up. (BTW, frucking was a typo but it's funny and FIDO won't pick it up). And this makes me not want to talk to him. Cuz I'm going to have to ask about it (it's rent time, never mind the bills that aren't paid, but every month, at the end of the month, I always have to remind him about the rent, after all these years, you'd think he'd GET it, but no) and I don't want the answer. I don't. First, it won't be accurate. It will be smoke and mirrors to deflect my attention. Second, when I get to the bottom of it (in a "That mayor lady quit" type fashion, but more aggravating), I'm not going to like it.
Ugh. Thank God (not that he likes me) for good books. I read that book to keep my mind off of various types of torture and murder. I grazed the subject with him, verified that YES, he is effin' it up, and went back to my book.
Ya know, I can be just as broke as this if I were single. And have significantly less in bills, too.
Anyway. That's more like a blog entry than an email isn't it? It's all about me, baby. LOL. But I know you found it entertaining, you're laughing. "HA HA very funny m0therf*@cker" <---quote! Quote!
Anyway (again), I'm going to get my day started. I have to squeeze in a trip to Bedford to get the IRS "off my back". I'm wondering if he can weasel me out of Monday's meeting? That would be so great, cuz I could go to work on time. Next week, I work 8-5 every day for training. The Unit has to take the kids to school. It's only for one week, how bad can he fruck it up?
I know, I know. Pretty bad.