Someone on the local Craigslist did one about dating their daughter which was quite humorous so I thought I'd throw out some rules of my own.
1. Dress Appropriately in my Presence. I am the Queen of my house. Therefore you will not be presented to me dressed like a pole dancer. Wear your best church clothes. If you don't know what those are, dress the opposite of Paris Hilton.
2. No Piercings. If anything other than your ears are pierced, I had better not see it. Yes, I know why people pierce their tongues and it has nothing to do with speech improvement. If you're some skanasarous with piercings everywhere, I will tell my son to drop you off where he found you. Oh and he'll listen otherwise he'll get cut out of the will. I have no problem leaving everything to some obscure charity.
3. Abortion, Adoption or Child Support. Should you think that getting knocked up is a trip on the gravy train, I have no problem recommending any of the three to my idiotic child. Trust me when I say that paying your dumb ass child support for 18 years is far better than him marrying you and supporting you forever. I recommend getting married (the first time) at 30. By then, both parties should have their heads out of their asses.
4. I Will Do a Background Check. That's right, Sunshine, I'll talk to everyone who ever knew you from the time your wore Huggies until now. If I don't get a, "She's a candidate for sainthood," report, you are out the door. Again, he'll listen 'cause poverty sucks.
5. I Am Not Your Friend. Do not call me by my first name. Do not say, "Yeah...um...no...um..." Ma'am is not required but will earn you extra points. Consider me the Mama Bear protecting her cubs. Mama bears are not to be trifle with lest we rip you from limb to limb. Approach us with caution and respect and no one loses an arm.
6. Dumb Does Not Get You Anywhere. I'm not saying my sons need to date rocket scientists but if you know more about, "The Bachelor," "American Idol," and "Oprah," than you do current events, then we have a problem. Yes, I will quiz you. I will audition you and make Simon Cowell look like Mary Poppins. I will not tolerate a dumb bimbo no matter how cute she looks. Cute wears off, stupidity lasts forever.
7. Your Parents Better Impress Me. Oh they don't need to be rich or snobs but if they have a single wide they're real proud of then I'm thinking you are out of your league. Seriously, one of the best quotes out of Gone With the Wind was when Scarlet was whining about not marrying Ashley and her dad was telling her that it was a good thing he wasn't marrying her. Said Pa O'Hara, "Like must marry like or there will be no happiness." 'Tis true. My sons are spoiled rotten little prima donas. Their idea of roughing it is a 3 star hotel. That whole, "girl from the wrong side of the tracks," worked in Pretty in Pink. However, it's highly unlikely here.
8. Have Some Ambition. No, getting married and having a passel of kids while my son works his butt off all day is not what I'm talking about. You'll want a career. You'll want to do something with your life other than breed. I don't care if you're an accountant, IT guru, or a classical pianist but you better have a piece of paper from a 4 year college with your name on it.
9. Don't Be a Bitch. That's my job and I'm not giving it up. Do not nag my son or dictate what clothes he should wear. No, I'm not buying him Abercrombie clothes. Get over it. Do not boss him around. You haven't earned that right and if I see you doing it, you're likely to get a swift kick in the ass for your effort.
10. I Don't Have to Consent to the Wedding. But I can make it the worst event in the history of weddings if you piss me off. If you are lucky enough to snare my son into marrying you, I better have some input. Otherwise, things could suddenly start happening. Things like your dress order being cancelled or the cake getting dropped or the invitations not getting mailed....you know, STUFF.
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Year That Was: 2008
Am I the only one who's glad this suck-ass year is almost over? Here's a recap of how my 2008 went:
January: Went to Key West with the kids, Spud, my sister and her friend. Thought all was well. Spud starts to take more control of the pub.
February: Spud takes over all my roles at the pub. He then starts telling me how unhappy he is and how I'm a loser with no direction in my life. This was after I planned the Mardi Gras party for the pub which, as far as I know, is still the biggest money-maker that place has ever had. This would be the Mardi Gras party that he didn't want to do for fear it would be a bust.
March: Spud walks on the 24th. No goodbye, no "Go screw yourself," nada. Just a, "I can't do this anymore." This was a week after the sorriest trip to a theme park ever where he refused to ride any rides and just sat next to me on a bench for 5 hours while ogling everything with a bustline.
April: I gave the idiot until the first of April to get his head out of his ass and come home. He didn't so on the 2nd I filed for divorce. This led him to tell everyone that I was the one who ended the marriage. I'm thinking that leaving me for a 27 year old bimbo you met at the pub constitutes ending a marriage. I still have the fateful words of what he told one of his friends ringing in my ears, "You know who I'm fucking and it ain't your wife."
May: Spud discovers that I'm dissing him on Folly and decides to bitch to his lawyer like a 4 year old girl. I get chastised by my lawyer and Folly goes down in flames. Go visit my sister at her farm in Tennessee.
June: Still haggling with Spud over the decree. I want my share of the pub. He says over his dead body. I'm thinking that's a fair trade.
July: Discover Spud's profile on Match.com which he later denies ever having. Of course, I printed it out. What a load of crap that was. Meanwhile, I went out with one of the biggest losers I've ever met that I didn't marry. It took days of ignoring his crazy ass behavior ("Are you any happier today than you were yesterday?") for him to stop. Then I met my current beau who is a decent, upstanding individual. This makes me wonder what he sees in me.
August: On the 12th, Spud is officially my ex-husband. I gave him the house. He's supposed to give me $15k for my share of the pub. As of today, still haven't received a dime of that. First date with my current beau. Moved out of the marital home and into a rent house which I got screwed on.
September: Beau's birthday. Bought him an awesome Civil War print which is currently hanging in his living room. Decided to move from the rent house after I had to tell the process server on a Sunday morning that the landlord's wife moved with him to North Carolina. She is being sued. He proceeds to act like an ass and threatens to sue me over the lease. Dillweed.
October: Had to put in a $300 battery in the Jaguar. Moved to another rent house. Discovered the fine art of plumbing after having repaired the toilet in the master bathroom. Discovered I got screwed on this deal as well. Vowed to never live in another rent house. Marital home goes into foreclosure after Spud doesn't offer a deed in lieu as required by the decree. Broke ass broke.
November: Obama is elected and I am sad. Hoping I don't get laid off. Boss is muy unhappy with me over billing. Thanksgiving with Beau's parents is not the disaster I had feared. Still broke ass broke.
December: Christmas is muy expensive. Go to an hourly rate instead of salary thanks to my boss. Still broke ass broke. Decide to move after to IRS agents come to the door looking for my landlord. Landlord claims it had only to do with a missing form from a couple of years ago. I say bullshit. Found a house to purchase on the 4th hole of a golf course. Got my fingers crossed but mortgage guy says even with the foreclosure it shouldn't be a problem since Spud got the house.
Here's to a better year in 2009.
January: Went to Key West with the kids, Spud, my sister and her friend. Thought all was well. Spud starts to take more control of the pub.
February: Spud takes over all my roles at the pub. He then starts telling me how unhappy he is and how I'm a loser with no direction in my life. This was after I planned the Mardi Gras party for the pub which, as far as I know, is still the biggest money-maker that place has ever had. This would be the Mardi Gras party that he didn't want to do for fear it would be a bust.
March: Spud walks on the 24th. No goodbye, no "Go screw yourself," nada. Just a, "I can't do this anymore." This was a week after the sorriest trip to a theme park ever where he refused to ride any rides and just sat next to me on a bench for 5 hours while ogling everything with a bustline.
April: I gave the idiot until the first of April to get his head out of his ass and come home. He didn't so on the 2nd I filed for divorce. This led him to tell everyone that I was the one who ended the marriage. I'm thinking that leaving me for a 27 year old bimbo you met at the pub constitutes ending a marriage. I still have the fateful words of what he told one of his friends ringing in my ears, "You know who I'm fucking and it ain't your wife."
May: Spud discovers that I'm dissing him on Folly and decides to bitch to his lawyer like a 4 year old girl. I get chastised by my lawyer and Folly goes down in flames. Go visit my sister at her farm in Tennessee.
June: Still haggling with Spud over the decree. I want my share of the pub. He says over his dead body. I'm thinking that's a fair trade.
July: Discover Spud's profile on Match.com which he later denies ever having. Of course, I printed it out. What a load of crap that was. Meanwhile, I went out with one of the biggest losers I've ever met that I didn't marry. It took days of ignoring his crazy ass behavior ("Are you any happier today than you were yesterday?") for him to stop. Then I met my current beau who is a decent, upstanding individual. This makes me wonder what he sees in me.
August: On the 12th, Spud is officially my ex-husband. I gave him the house. He's supposed to give me $15k for my share of the pub. As of today, still haven't received a dime of that. First date with my current beau. Moved out of the marital home and into a rent house which I got screwed on.
September: Beau's birthday. Bought him an awesome Civil War print which is currently hanging in his living room. Decided to move from the rent house after I had to tell the process server on a Sunday morning that the landlord's wife moved with him to North Carolina. She is being sued. He proceeds to act like an ass and threatens to sue me over the lease. Dillweed.
October: Had to put in a $300 battery in the Jaguar. Moved to another rent house. Discovered the fine art of plumbing after having repaired the toilet in the master bathroom. Discovered I got screwed on this deal as well. Vowed to never live in another rent house. Marital home goes into foreclosure after Spud doesn't offer a deed in lieu as required by the decree. Broke ass broke.
November: Obama is elected and I am sad. Hoping I don't get laid off. Boss is muy unhappy with me over billing. Thanksgiving with Beau's parents is not the disaster I had feared. Still broke ass broke.
December: Christmas is muy expensive. Go to an hourly rate instead of salary thanks to my boss. Still broke ass broke. Decide to move after to IRS agents come to the door looking for my landlord. Landlord claims it had only to do with a missing form from a couple of years ago. I say bullshit. Found a house to purchase on the 4th hole of a golf course. Got my fingers crossed but mortgage guy says even with the foreclosure it shouldn't be a problem since Spud got the house.
Here's to a better year in 2009.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Post-Christmas Fun
Well I hope everyone had a Joyous Noel. For the first time in years, I had a holiday that didn't involve bitching, whining or fights over who got the better toy. And the kids behaved too. While out shopping, I saw many an Obama sticker with "hope" and "change" on them which led me, in the middle of the night 'cause I couldn't sleep, to come up with a game. Here it is:
- Use the words "hope" and "change" in a sentence that has nothing to do with Obama. The more random, the better.
- Example: "I hope that dumb bitch at the drive through remembers my change." or "I hope you brought a change of underwear."
Yeah, it's lame but it's the holidays and I'm stressed out so cut me some slack. The goal is to show just how vague those two words are and that they can be used for anything.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Wal-Mart Tree Part 2
Not having learned my lesson on the crap ass fake tree, the boyfriend and I went to Wal-Mart yet again only this time we bought a real tree. How could a real tree go wrong? Well trust me to pick out the only tree with a crooked base. Despite the boyfriend sawing off part of it, it still looks like this:
In case you can't tell, it's listing to the left like a drunk sailor in Times Square. The ONLY reason it is even upright is a strategically placed book underneath the tree stand. BTW, the crap ass fake tree I returned? Back on the shelf with all the other fake trees.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
"Why No, Mr. IRS Agent, My Landlord ISN'T Here."
So I was stuck at home for two days with the offspring due to all the ice we had everywhere. If you've never seen Okies drive on ice, picture elephants ice-skating. Anyway, I'm sitting in my home office yesterday when a truck pulls up in front of the house. Out comes a big black guy who looks like Refrigerator Perry and a middle-aged white lady. I thought, "Great, freakin' Jehovahs." For a moment I thought about not answering the door. Then I saw his briefcase and realized that Jehovahs don't carry briefcases.
They ring the doorbell and I answer it. Keep in mind, it's 19 degrees and the streets are covered with ice. Fridge says, "I'm Joe Friday with the Internal Revenue Service. I'm looking for Bob Taxfraud." I said, "Bob Taxfraud is my landlord. He moved to Virginia. You wanna come in, it's cold." I said that last bit 'cause I know better than to piss off the feds. Besides, they're not coming out in 19 degree weather to discuss old Bob's 1099. He's in deep sh*t. Everyone knows that if you owe them a couple of grand, they send you letters forever. They only pay you a visit if you're on your way to Club Fed.
Fridge and his side kick come in and he starts asking me questions like, "When did you move in? Do you have his phone number?" I didn't have his number but I did have his address which I gave him. Then I said, "I know you probably can't tell me but does this have anything to do with the house?" He said, "I can't discuss it." Me: "Oh. I just wanted to know if I'm going to be homeless for the holidays." The lady laughed but the Fridge didn't. He gave me his card and said to let him know if I got Bob's number.
Last night I sent Bob and email. Bob calls me, chitchats about the weather then proceeds to give me the lamest ass excuses I've ever heard. Excuse 1: "Maybe it was a joke." Uh, no Bob, the feds have no sense of humor. Excuse 2: "Maybe their after my former tenant. He never paid taxes." Uh, no Bob, they asked for YOU so I think you never paid taxes. He asked for Joe Friday's number and I gave it to him. Yeah, right, like he's going to call.
Anyway, first thing this morning I called Joe Friday and left him a message with my landlord's phone number. Then I shot an email about the visit to a colleague at the office who is a CPA as well as a lawyer. I said, "What does it mean when two revenue agents come looking for your landlord?" Her response, "It means it's time to move 'cause chances are he's committed fraud or something."
So, I've decided to start from scratch and move back to my old house that I actually still technically own. I hate moving. I hate Bob.
They ring the doorbell and I answer it. Keep in mind, it's 19 degrees and the streets are covered with ice. Fridge says, "I'm Joe Friday with the Internal Revenue Service. I'm looking for Bob Taxfraud." I said, "Bob Taxfraud is my landlord. He moved to Virginia. You wanna come in, it's cold." I said that last bit 'cause I know better than to piss off the feds. Besides, they're not coming out in 19 degree weather to discuss old Bob's 1099. He's in deep sh*t. Everyone knows that if you owe them a couple of grand, they send you letters forever. They only pay you a visit if you're on your way to Club Fed.
Fridge and his side kick come in and he starts asking me questions like, "When did you move in? Do you have his phone number?" I didn't have his number but I did have his address which I gave him. Then I said, "I know you probably can't tell me but does this have anything to do with the house?" He said, "I can't discuss it." Me: "Oh. I just wanted to know if I'm going to be homeless for the holidays." The lady laughed but the Fridge didn't. He gave me his card and said to let him know if I got Bob's number.
Last night I sent Bob and email. Bob calls me, chitchats about the weather then proceeds to give me the lamest ass excuses I've ever heard. Excuse 1: "Maybe it was a joke." Uh, no Bob, the feds have no sense of humor. Excuse 2: "Maybe their after my former tenant. He never paid taxes." Uh, no Bob, they asked for YOU so I think you never paid taxes. He asked for Joe Friday's number and I gave it to him. Yeah, right, like he's going to call.
Anyway, first thing this morning I called Joe Friday and left him a message with my landlord's phone number. Then I shot an email about the visit to a colleague at the office who is a CPA as well as a lawyer. I said, "What does it mean when two revenue agents come looking for your landlord?" Her response, "It means it's time to move 'cause chances are he's committed fraud or something."
So, I've decided to start from scratch and move back to my old house that I actually still technically own. I hate moving. I hate Bob.
Monday, December 15, 2008
I'm Freezing My A** Off Without a Christmas Tree
It's 17 degrees right now. Yes, 17 degrees. That's up from the low of 16 on its way to a balmy 22 for the afternoon high. There's a 1/4 inch of ice covering everything which means I didn't go to work today. My little Jaguar wouldn't make it out of the driveway much less the neighborhood. Of course, everyone else is at work. Then again, everyone else has a Lexus/Lincoln SUV.
So what does not having a Christmas tree have to do with freezing my a** off? Well, yesterday it was 75 degrees. I went to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. I went to Wal-Mart to buy, among other things, a Christmas tree. I found one that looked great on the box. 7.5 feet and only 3 sections. So I snagged it and some other stuff.
When I got home with my haul, I moved stuff out of the way in the designated Christmas tree spot and opened the box. I realized something was amiss when I got a whiff of stale cigarette smoke. Then I started taking the tree out. "3 Easy Sections," suddenly became a thousand individual branches with a center stand that you hook them to.
Oh, it only took me a second to figure out what happened. Some deadbeat loser bought the real tree then boxed up their old piece of crap tree, took it back to Wal-Mart and got money for their piece of crap tree. Kudos for their ingenuity and complete lack of moral character. Kudos also to the Wal-mart employees in the returns/exchanges section who didn't even bother to check the box.
While I was getting my return sticker from the mentally-handicapped employee at the front of the door, I was on the phone to my sister explaining this whole debacle. It took Scooter a couple of minutes to figure out how to get the sticker out. Meanwhile, the over-dressed old bitch behind me says, "Is something wrong?" Scooter, "No." Bitch, "Oh I thought you were waiting for her to get off the phone." WTF? I wasn't holding up the parade, it was the retard employee. Granted, at least HE has a job unlike the old bitch who I'm probably supporting via Social Security.
Again, I f*&king hate Wal-Mart.
So what does not having a Christmas tree have to do with freezing my a** off? Well, yesterday it was 75 degrees. I went to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. I went to Wal-Mart to buy, among other things, a Christmas tree. I found one that looked great on the box. 7.5 feet and only 3 sections. So I snagged it and some other stuff.
When I got home with my haul, I moved stuff out of the way in the designated Christmas tree spot and opened the box. I realized something was amiss when I got a whiff of stale cigarette smoke. Then I started taking the tree out. "3 Easy Sections," suddenly became a thousand individual branches with a center stand that you hook them to.
Oh, it only took me a second to figure out what happened. Some deadbeat loser bought the real tree then boxed up their old piece of crap tree, took it back to Wal-Mart and got money for their piece of crap tree. Kudos for their ingenuity and complete lack of moral character. Kudos also to the Wal-mart employees in the returns/exchanges section who didn't even bother to check the box.
While I was getting my return sticker from the mentally-handicapped employee at the front of the door, I was on the phone to my sister explaining this whole debacle. It took Scooter a couple of minutes to figure out how to get the sticker out. Meanwhile, the over-dressed old bitch behind me says, "Is something wrong?" Scooter, "No." Bitch, "Oh I thought you were waiting for her to get off the phone." WTF? I wasn't holding up the parade, it was the retard employee. Granted, at least HE has a job unlike the old bitch who I'm probably supporting via Social Security.
Again, I f*&king hate Wal-Mart.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Ho, Ho, Freakin' Ho
I am in a SNIT. Why? (Oh, like you give a rat's ass). Hmmm, get a call from the sperm donor aka my babies' daddy this morning about the older one. Apparently, the older one has chosen to act like a 4 year old this weekend. He wanted to know what to do. Hell, I figured a guy with 6 kids would know more about child rearing than I would. I said I didn't know 'cause I didn't want to tell him the truth which is, "He hates your guts and I made him go."
Then I made the mistake of going to Walmart. At Christmas time. I then realized why I hate shopping and Walmart. My older son (the one who is acting up) wants a dog. So I went to Petco (x3) and Petsmart looking for a dog to adopt. I finally found one then I discovered I need a HOME VISIT by the FOSTER PARENT. Jeez, it's not a kid.
Then I talked to the significant other who was in snit (being on duty all weekend) and proceeded to criticize the dog idea as well as the kids latest misery at school. The older one wants to be home-schooled. So apparently I'm incapable of making a proper decision.
Then I made the mistake of going to Walmart. At Christmas time. I then realized why I hate shopping and Walmart. My older son (the one who is acting up) wants a dog. So I went to Petco (x3) and Petsmart looking for a dog to adopt. I finally found one then I discovered I need a HOME VISIT by the FOSTER PARENT. Jeez, it's not a kid.
Then I talked to the significant other who was in snit (being on duty all weekend) and proceeded to criticize the dog idea as well as the kids latest misery at school. The older one wants to be home-schooled. So apparently I'm incapable of making a proper decision.
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