OH HAI, I’m at blogher again, talking about Wyoming mudflap girl. Again.
Author Archives: iasshole
Everything’s TL;DR When You Think About It
So, I am not going to plead my case here, because I don’t care about my case, or case studies, a Case of the Mondays, or whatever. Suffice it to say that my blood family was really small to begin with, and now through one way or another I have alienated all of them. I understand that when you’re the last person left alive in some instances, you have survivor’s guilt. I have something else. I can’t name it.
What do you do when you have no family left? Do you tell people you’re an orphan? I have my kids, and that’s good. I think I worry overmuch that they will flee like rats the second they can. Are there worse things than being alone? I’m sure there are…I’ve experienced some of those things.
Am I learning a lesson here? Have I learned my lesson? No, I have not. I’m not even sure what the lesson is. If I knew what the fuck was going on I would make it my mission in life to spread the word. All I know now is that I can look forward to years of holidays and special occasions where the only people who have my nose are younger than me.
Do I need to make some crappity fucking lemonade and say that hooray, now I get to spend time with cool frondz that I pick myself? I guess. I like friends. I hate the product of Lesson Lemons. But no one else knows my really old stories, because they weren’t there with me, and I can’t argue with anyone about who broke the plate and who did the thing with with pincushion.
One Two One Two, This is Just a Test
Yesterday morning was fun sneaky times at Casa del Asshole. Franny’s teacher is strongly encouraging parents to let kids make their own lunches for school, and has asked parents to make this easier for them by making sure they have supplies and time to do so. It’s all part of the independence thing at their school, which I am all for.
On Sundays I have her sit down and write up a balanced menu for the week, which is a list of things she can pack, so she won’t stand in front of the fridge blankly. I look over the list and we talk about protein and fruits and all that jazz.
So in the morning I watched her get dressed, and eat the oatmeal I made. She had a ton of time and screwed around by playing in her room. I was standing in the kitchen and watched her look at her lunch bag and then remember, and then deliberately walk away from it. She read to her sister and fooled around some more. She probably pissed away about forty minutes. I said nothing.
Then it was time to get shoes on and get out the door for our short walk to school. We got off our property and halfway down the block with Strudel. Franny’s hands were noticeably empty, and there was a weird dramatic tension.
“OH NO!” Franny exclaimed. “I forgot my lunch, MOM!”
“Oh no. I guess you won’t have lunch today. That’s too bad,” I said sincerely.
She stopped in her tracks and gave me a confused look, because this is the part where I was supposed to go, “OH DEAR POOR BABY, LET MUMMY RUN HOME AND FIX EVERYTHING.” But I didn’t.
“What am I going to do?” she wailed, and began crying.
“Well, your teacher says that if you forget your lunch, parents are not supposed to bail you out. It’s your responsibility to remember lunch now.”
She cried softly all the way to school, and then pulled it together as she walked in the door. She froze when she entered, and I saw her classmates greet her. I only saw the back of her, but she had weird body language, like on TV when the main character is dreaming she’s forgotten her pants. BUSTED.
“Have a good day!” I said.
After school, she looked completely out of gas. I talked to her teacher really quickly and asked her how it came out. She said they talked about the importance of not forgetting, and that she didn’t see Franny eat anything all day. She came home and ate a bunch of snacks, and told me that someone slipped her an apple at one point.
This morning, before I came downstairs, the lunch bag was already packed and on the counter. You can’t outsneak the Sneaky Queen. At least not at six.
What Kind of Bug Are You?
BUSY BUSY BUSY. At least we’re not sick anymore.
In case you were considering it, I will not be at the Salon of Shame tonight. Companion is sucked into Workport and will not be home til well after bedtime, I imagine. I shall console myself with my home cupping kit and jerri curl cap.
And now I am working on website content writing all day and for the rest of the week. Updates as my mental health requires.
My Learningz, Let Me Show You Them
I found lolRockyHorror last night. I just don’t know anymore.
ALSO, the rest of today will be devoted to grocery shopping, work, and cleaning my damn house, which ASPLODIE since I have been sick and also a Giant Local Software Company widow due to Deadlines.
I was lying in bed with a fever last night, watching the Giant Ceiling Head of John Travolta being interviewed by Elliot Gould when Companion came home.
“HA HA HA!” I shrieked. “You’ve been gone so long you have a beard!” He did, too. It was HYSTERICAL.
“Have you been drinking?” he said.
“No…well, earlier. But I’m fine now. HA HA HA! Beard.”
The last thing I remember was a pillow going over my face.
Anywayz, since I am sick and busy you can go peep me at BlogHer, where I inflammatorily titled today’s piece Modern Dolls: Slut Trainers or Empowerment Tools?
HA HA! The Ceiling will be right back with an interview with Totie Fields!
Wyoming Libraries: When You Think of Us, Think TITTAYS
WOW! Wyoming Libraries are making an effort to reach out to men! Did you know? Apparently men in Wyoming don’t read or something. If you are male and from Wyoming and are reading this, you should probably go have a lie down. Unless you need something to stimulate your desire to read? Then perhaps you will enjoy Wyoming Libraries’ new advertising campaign!
O HAY it’s the mudflap girl. But it’s okay, because she’s reading a book! Ha ha! That’s right men, sexy nude silhouettes who live on mudflaps read, too! An offering from Wyoming, “the Equality State.” I sure would be super-thrilled if I was a librarian in this system. And by “thrilled,” I mean “disgusted and incredulous.” I would certainly want my name as a librarian associated with outdated sexist trash from the dregs of popular culture. Ha ha!
But since Wyoming’s state motto is “equal rights,” I humbly offer, free of charge, my design to add to their campaign. Just to keep things on the level. Because libraries have moar to offer than just TITTAYS.
Ooh, Er
Looks like I’m going to be reading at the Salon of Shame on Tuesday. This is what happens when you tell the wrong person about your early attempts at LoTR-style elfrotica. And I was just trying to cadge a free ticket in!
Shake It Like an Etch-A-Sketch Picture
Here is my story.
I was walking around at U-Village today, with the intention of loitering at the Giant Bookstore of Doom with the new issues of Cook’s Illustrated and EW. I was not going to work this morning, or even pretend to work, which it should be noted I am really, really good at. Sometimes, while pretending to work, I even produce things that look like work, but may actually not be. Don’t count on the pretend work to substitute for, say, passenger-side airbags.
I walked by the playstructure hoo-ha thing at the mall, and it was crawling with toddlers. Toddlers be-binkied, todders crying, toddlers with mothers with Snuglis bearing Future Toddlers (lovesounds) and I knew my toddler was safely socked away at her school and I had the most intense sensation when I saw all those little temporarily-dressed feral dwarfs: I felt my uterus crumple up and turn into dust. It then, of course, fell out of my body. As it turns out, my uterus dust is puce-colored, and looks like it has a little mica in it, which will help you effortlessly transition from work to evening.
Then I came home and my kid decided to shit up the place, starting with her pants. Maybe I should be happy that so far, my little kid doesn’t seem to be a rocket vomiter like the big one, but it’s early in the game. But she has pooped so much I think I need to keep her home tomorrow. I remember last month, when colds seemed like a lifetime away.
Now I am eating my lunch, and am convinced there there is poop everywhere. On my hands, floating through the air. The big one has a sore throat. Am I going to have both of them home tomorrow, listlessly fighting with each other and making me wish I had opted for a purse dog instead? Seems likely.
There is a giant-assed garden spider outside the window that is so giant it is capturing those taco-sized moths. This should make enemies of moths happy.
In Other News
It’s been an interesting week. I keep having that feeling that I am about to be crushed by the hand of god or something, and my breathing’s not working quite right. Sometimes my hands shake. And then I remember: OH YEAS, my old friend anxiety. I remember you from grad school. I am having weird nightmares about creepy people.
I squeezed into my Italian motorcycle jacket and that didn’t even cheer me up. I paraded my increasing waistliness to Companion, and he said, “Oh yeah? I have gained ten pounds,” and did something that was eerily reminiscent of the Truffle Shuffle. (After watching that, I have to call foul, hoho, on a family that keeps a chicken for the express purposes of opening a gate. WHERE R U PETARDS?) I think Companion and I are just transferring weight around. He is trying to lose weight now and where will it land? I vote “the cat.”
In Other Other News
“What did you do at school today?”
“I do puzzle.”
“What else did you do with the rest of the three hours?”
“I do TWO puzzles.”
Are We Happy It’s September? Yes, Yes We Are
Phear the Strudel
In between Strudel’s very busy schedule of eating my makeup and being her general awesome Strudelness, she has had her first week at school! Ha ha, my chains, they slacken. Did you like how I didn’t mention that at all? I went into my archives and realized I wrote two seperate posts about Frannie’s first day, and that was before she had started, even. But number two kid…this one I forget to feed sometimes. HAW HAW HAW!
Strudel and I were met at school with much applause.
“Hey! Lookit you, SJ! You’re free now!” “Look at that big girl going into the class!” “I remember when she was in a sling!”
And then…the other moms waited, watching. All I saw was the back of her head as she disappeared into the class, which was unsurprising to me.
“That was easy,” one said crossly, as if my freedom was unearned. “Wait til tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said.
Day Two.
“I go by myself?”
“Yep,” I said.
“You come see farm, Mom?”
“No, I can’t come in and see the farm. But your friends will be there.”
“Okay.”
“Wow! There she goes again!” said the moms. The other two-and-a-half year old was screaming and clinging to one of the assistants. “Hmm. Day three is they day they really lose it,” they said sagely.
Day Three.
“Bye, Mom! I see my friends!”
“Bye, honey! Use the potty!”
Silence. I began to wonder how much money was riding on my child’s impending breakdown.
Today, the new four-year-old was screaming and clinging to her father. The other two-and-a-half year old was nowhere to be seen. I got a kiss and a high five. She told the assistant, “I have muffin for snack.”
PHEEEEAR!
I take no credit for this. Between you and me, I actually would have designed a more sensitive child who spends less time trying to turn the cat inside out and throwing sippy cups at my head. But we play the hand we’re dealt.
Because of all the lame events this week, I have been a little discombobulated, but I am excited about settling in and working on all the stuffs I need to do. Now is the time for me to start work on the school’s website. I am hoping to get the basic shell, etc, done by the end of this month.
Also, I cannot stop listening to the newish Atmosphere EP, Sad Clown Bad Summer No. 9. Is so good. Too bad I didn’t pick it up in, you know, summer. But sometimes it’s nice to listen to a summer album in September. They are playing in B-Ham…on the same night as the first school auction meeting. They would probably notice if the chair wasn’t there, I suppose. BOOO!