A Day in the Life...

The Beatles Rock, Y'all.

I don't know what to write about today.  Yesterday, I had the mental brewings of a really kickass blog post.  I mean, it was off-the-chain hilarious.  Think I remember what it was about?  NOPE.  I hate when my brain farts are detrimental to my blog.  I usually would write myself a little note in my iPhone to remind myself, but thinking this blog post was uber-hilarious...I thought I'd remember.  THINK AGAIN, GIRL.

What you're going to get instead of my rolling-on-the-floor hilarity, is musing about my day today.  As I sit here writing to you, I'm watching one of my favorite afternoon-junkfood TV shows, "Maury".  Why do I love Maury Povich and his show so much?  Because honestly -- it's the same shit everyday.  Lie detectors and DNA tests.  Day after day, show after show, as time marches on.  I think the reason I love it so much must obviously be because I enjoy the drama, and I enjoy all the "tsk, tsk-ing" and shaking my head.  I wonder what that says about me?

"In the case of 4-month-old Damian, Richard, you are NOT the father!"

Earlier today, I ran a few errands and did a little school shopping for Daughter.  I didn't take her with me, because I'd rather whip through the store and have her try everything on at home than have to listen to her bitching at the store itself.  She hates clothes shopping.  I often wonder how she can be my child, becuase in addition to my LOVE AFFAIR with shopping, the child also hates chocolate everything. Chocolate candy, chocolate milk, chocolate-chip cookies.  Seriously?  If I hadn't actually given birth to her, I'd wonder how we were even related.

This is how I feel about chocolate-chip cookies sometimes.

I also had an appointment today with a company who offers virtual offices.  As a solo attorney, I work from home but have a UPS box for my "business" address, because there are too many crazies in the world and I don't need any of them showing up on my front porch.  I'm really excited about this virtual office, because they also offer a service where you can have a person answer your telephone, giving me a receptionist along with the beautiful office building I could use to meet clients.  I just have a few more things to think about before signing on the dotted line -- but I will have a decision made soon because my UPS box will be expiring in the first week of September. 

If Milton was included in the virtual office package, I'd have signed up on the spot.
 

I still have a nice chunk of my day left, but overall, I think it's been a productive day.  Although, when I look around the homestead, it doesn't reflect this at all.  This poor house is in desperate need of a good cleaning and I'd rather slit my wrists and bleed out in my bathtub than clean.  Ok, maybe not that drastic, but pretty damn close.  I'm sure Husband is going to be riding my ass like a pony at a fair if I don't get on top of the vacuuming, dusting, dishes, etc. STAT.  Dammit.

BFFs

Last night, I bought “Super Mario Bros.” for my Nintendo DS. I really don’t play with it all that much, because frankly, I don’t have a lot of time and I hate most of the games out there. I grew up with simple video games like Pac-Man and Donkey Kong. If I have to press more than one button in order to make my video character do whatever it is that video characters do, it’s too complicated for me. I think all day for a living – when I spend time doing recreational activites, I want to shut my brain off for a while.


“Super Mario Bros.” seemed like the perfect choice. There’s not a lot of buttons to deal with and plus, everyone loves Mario, right? I took Daughter with me to the video game store, and I made the purchase.

A little time later, we are taking turns on my DS being Mario. Whenever one of us lost our turn, it was the other person’s opportunity to play. We were having a blast. Then we remembered we could sync up our DS’s (she has one too) and we could play Mario as a two-person game. Great idea!

Since we couldn’t find the original instructions that came with the DS (who keeps that shit anyway?), I went to the computer to look up the directions on how to sync our DS’s. On the way up the stairs to our computer room, Daughter says to me, “We’re like peanut butter and jelly.” I ask her what did she mean? “It means we’re like best friends.”

HOW CUTE WAS THAT? We’re like peanut butter and jelly. Nevermind that she doesn’t even like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The analogy couldn’t be more fitting.

Thanksgiving and Birthday Wishes

My good friend IRL (that's "In Real Life" for all you not in the know) Kim, from A Perfectly Cursed Life has given me an award, y'all! It's the award she started last year in honor of the Thanksgiving season, and it's the "Thanks for Blogging" Award. Ain't she sweet for including me? Yeah, I thought so.  And, unfortunately, I can't get to her blog because I keep getting an error (over and over) so please forgive me for not posting the award itself.  In receiving the award, I'm supposed to thank some of my fellow bloggers for blogging...so here goes:

Like Kim, I have to thank LiLu at Live It, Love It for blogging.  Her blog has make me laugh out loud on many an occassion, and I'd really be lost without her.  She makes me want to go to Washington, DC and start stalking her and make her be friends with me.  When I say "stalking", I mean it in the most harmless way possible.

I would laso like to to thank Lisa from Lemon Gloria.  She is also someone who makes me laugh out loud on a regular basis, and I also get to relive those days from when I was a new mommy through her blog.  Not that I necessarily want to relive those days, but it's a nice reminder sometimes.

Thank you also goes out to Sass at Hot Piece of Sass.  She's hilarious and another blogger who makes me LOL.  I find myself wishing she'd just spend all of her time blogging because I love reading her blog that much.

I want to thank mysterg, at Meditations in an Emergency even though w may not always see eye-to-eye.  No matter what, he's still a good read.

And lastly, I want to thank my two favorite thought-provokers.  Is that a word?  It is now, y'all.  First, there's Tennyson at andy warhol goes shopping and then Dr. Jay at Yoga for Cynics.  Both of these blogs give me cause to think quite often, even though their writing styles are both very different.  I like reading their blogs because I like to take the old noodle out for a spin once in a while, and can't spend ALL my time laughing a baby poop and adult fart jokes.  Although, trust me, that is quite an excellent way to spend my time, in my humble opinion...

Anyways....

Getting this award got me thinking about my Thanksgiving topic this year. I have been mulling it around in my head for the past week or so.  Funny enough, this year, Daughter's birthday feel on Thanksgiving, and she's the one thing in this world I am most thankful for.  (Sorry for the late post!) 

If you care to read last years' birthday post about the day Daughter came into this world, click here.  Otherwise, just read about all the reasons I'm so thankful for her.

I'm thankful she is healthy.
I'm thankful that I got to be her mother.
I'm thankful that when I'm having a shitty day and she knows about it, she offers hugs and kisses.
I'm thankful she has a wicked sense of humor and fully understands the meaning of sarcasm.
I'm thankful that I have someone to share fart jokes with -- and who will laugh harder than me at them.
I'm thankful she still has her childhood innocence intact and hasn't been jaded by the world yet.
I'm thankful she still believes in Santa Claus.
And the Tooth Fairy.
I'm thankful that she doesn't care about money, and only cares about love.
I'm thankful she speaks her mind and doesn't censor herself yet.
I'm thankful she is sensitive and kind to others.

Happy 7th Birthday (yesterday) to my baby girl.  She's the one light in my life that keeps me grounded and sane.  xoxoxo

You May Now Address Me as "Counselor"

My apologies for not posting anything in a while. (Life has been crazy lately.) Here’s a quick update of what’s been going down in my zoo:

1) I PASSED THE BAR EXAM! HIP, HIP, HOOORAY! I got the letter in the mail last Thursday, and have been riding the cloud for several days now. The only thing that has put a damper on things is that I wonder what I’m supposed to do next. I’ve spent so much time focused on passing the bar exam, I never looked past it in any type of meaningful way.

2) Halloween came and went. Daughter was Dorothy for Halloween, just like I had hoped. (WHEW) Gearing up for the big day took a lot of planning, running errands, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning my house…because my parents and in-laws came to visit and see Daughter in her costume.

3) Work has been pretty busy, and as I’ve mentioned before, I usually only blog at work, so there you go. I try not to get on the computer when I’m home after work, considering how much time I spend on it during the day. It’s just a time-suck and I don’t want to take any time away from family time.

4) I’ve become an addict. I’m addicted to Farmville on Facebook. I knew I would fall prey to it if I started, which is why I’m late to the game (lots of my friends are also Farmville addicts, so I’ve been hearing about it for months now.) I finally gave in to temptation early last week and now I am a farming fool. I even have Daughter addicted to it…she enjoys running my farm and sending my friends gifts (so if you get a weird one, I’m sorry, it’s her not me).

That’s all the big news on my end and explains why I haven’t been around. Blame Farmville and work for most of it…Halloween and the passing the Bar were bonuses for you. I promise to post something worthwhile soon!

Don't Ever, Ever, Poke a Mama Bear -- She Will Fuck You Up

God, I love my kid. (That's her and me over there.)

This morning, I read a story in the news about a missing 7-year-old girl from Florida. She disappeared while walking home from school. Her body was found in a landfill this morning.

Reading the story made me really sad. I always put myself in the place of the parents when stories like this are in the news. My heart broke in two for these people – because their beautiful little girl was thrown away like she was a piece of trash.

It made me remember walking Daughter to the bus stop this morning, and the kiss she gave me before getting on the bus. Sending your child off on the bus for the first time has to be one of the worst things a parent goes through. Why, you may wonder? It’s because you’re giving control over to someone else. The fear never goes away, either. I experience it every morning when she climbs aboard the schoolbus.

I am constantly reminded that I do not completely trust anyone to keep Daughter safe. I do not trust my own mother, I do not trust Husband, I do not trust my inlaws. I do not trust ANYONE 100% with the safety of my child. Husband was personally insulted when I admitted this to him this past weekend. I don’t care if he was insulted – I worry about her every second she is out of my sight. LITERALLY. If I can’t see her, I worry about her.

No one will care about that child more than me. I cared for her from the day she was conceived. She has two arms and two legs and all her fingers and toes because of me. She is not addicted to drugs, nor did I smoke cigarettes and give her asthma problems. I grew her inside my body. We shared a BODY. I felt her move around and hiccup even before the world could see her do those things. She was my very own parasite and no one else but ME could have done this for her, therefore, no one else but ME will truly understand that even though her umbilical cord no longer is needed, in my mind, it will always be there.

I tell people that you will never truly understand what "LOVE" means until you have a child. Daughter is that one person in this world who I will love unconditionally. It is without limit and makes my heart feel like it will explode.

And don’t ever fuck with my child. I will fuck you up in a heartbeat. This reminds me once of a girl scout meeting I went to with Daughter. She was playing in a group of girls, when I overheard one of them say something like “Those glasses make you look weird.” Daughter wears glasses, but there was also another little girl in the group wearing glasses. I proceeded to go over to the group and confront the girl who said this. I asked her to repeat what she said – all she did was give me a blank stare. I had to ask her 3 times before the other glasses-wearer repeated it. I told the girl who said it that I didn’t think that was a very nice thing to say to your friends. After I said this, she ran away in tears to her mother. Did I feel bad for making a 5-year-old cry? NOPE. SHE FUCKING DESERVED IT. I am not above making a bully feel bad – even when the bully is a 5-year-old girl. ESPECIALLY if you’re inadvertently bullying MY kid.

So if you have a child – go home and give him or her a hug. If you don’t have any kids, go home and call your mom. Or dad. Or whomever was your primary caregiver, because that person loves you like I love Daughter. And if none of those people are alive anymore – take a few moments to say a prayer to the universe for parents who are grieving, for wannabe parents who are trying to conceive, and try to understand the reason why your mom didn’t want you to go to the sleepovers or why she was so terrified when you drove a car on your own for the first time. It’s not that she didn’t trust you to do the right thing – it’s because she loved you so much that she was scared to death of losing you.

Drop the Puck, Bitches!

It's that time of year again, y'all.  HOCKEY SEASON.  In honor of tonight's Home opener for my beloved Detroit Red Wings, here are a few pictures of the youngest Red Wings Fan in my house.  (These were taken quite a few years ago, since Daughter is nearly 7 years old, but she's still a BIG fan.)

Center Ice.  Tonight.  DROP THE PUCK!

Last year during the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Daughter made a "joke" by yelling, "Go, Pittsburgh!", during one of the playoff games.

You could have heard a pin drop, as she stood there with the biggest smirk on her face.

But the joke was on her.  Husband and I told her since only Red Wings fans lived at our house, she was going to have to pack her bags and go live with Nana and Papa.

To which she replied, "Go Wings!"  The Kid knows which side her bread is buttered on.

And in case you are wondering why an octopus is in the second picture, the "unofficial" mascot for the Detroit Red Wings is Al the Octopus.  During playoff games, people throw real (dead) octopi onto the ice.  Why?  Because way back when there were only 6 teams in the whole hockey league, it only took 8 wins to win the Stanley Cup.  Today, it takes 16 wins...but the tradition in Detroit remains BECAUSE OUR HOCKEY TEAM ROCKS THE SHIT OUT OF EVERY OTHER TEAM....Oh, and that's a wing-nut hat on her head...get it?  "WING" NUT?  Yeah, I'm a Wing-Nut.  Crazy, rabid, wing-nut.  Oh, boys, don't let me down this year!  Go Wings!

Story of My Life

Husband, Daughter and I went to a Halloween costume store this past weekend to find The Dorothy Costume.  Wouldn't you know it?  She now wants to be a cat for Halloween.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo!

All of my dreams have been crushed.  Well, maybe not ALL of them.  But the one where my daughter dresses like Dorothy for Halloween has pretty much bitten the proverbial dust and now I have to act like it's not the end of the world.  :)

And if I didn't already love the SHIT out of cats, I would be super-duper pissed about her switching.  Of course, no costume has been bought yet, so technically the fat lady has not sung.  But she's getting ready to belt one out, that's for sure.

I'll Get You My Pretty! And Your Little Dog Too!

It’s that time of year again. Fall is here. Tomorrow is October 1st, and I just can’t believe that we’re here already. I mean, it feels just like yesterday when I was bubbling forth with the joys of August. Now, it’s two month later!

October means that the weather is going to get cooler, and Daughter is on the hunt for a really cool Halloween costume. I’ve been trying to talk her into being Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz (only my very favoritest movie EVER…but more about that in another post). Last year I was thisclose to getting her to be Dorothy…almost had the costume in hand, but the fucking brilliant store manager of the Halloween USA store decided to put Dorothy next to Batgirl. In case you were not aware (and really, why would you be?), Daughter is a HUGE superhero fan. Needless to say, Batgirl won out over Dorothy, and Daughter had to break the news to me by saying “maybe I will be Dorothy next year.” *sigh* I had even bought the fucking red glitter shoes…oh well. Maybe she could use them at Christmas.

This year, we are beginning our hunt for The Perfect Halloween Costume. Over the years, I have tried to steer her choices into things I think are cute, but still allowing her to pretty much get a costume she wants to get, because I remember when my mother wouldn’t let me be things for Halloween she didn’t approve of. And in trying to erase the mistakes of mothers past, I try to be relatively accommodating in the Halloween costume department. Her very first Halloween, she was Minnie Mouse. It was fucking adorable, and it helped that she was 11 month old and couldn’t protest. Next Halloween, I dressed her as a girl from the 1950s. Neckscarf and Poodle Skirt. PRECIOUS. When she was nearly 3, she was a fairy. Which really only consisted of some wings and a pink tutu – I was trying to convince her to be an angel, but I don’t think she wanted to wear the halo (which should have been my first clue). At almost-4-years old, she was Ariel from The Little Mermaid (she was OBSESSED with the movie – still is). Definitely a mom-approved choice, especially considering she wanted to be Darth Vader. Next came Wonder Woman, and finally last year, she was Batgirl. (And as much as I want her to wear “girly” costumes, I am 100% OK with her wearing “boy” costumes, despite my crack regarding Darth Vader. My mother, however, has a problem with it, as she is convinced that Daughter is going to “become” lesbian because of these costume choices, along with all of the superhero toys she has. I have tried explaining you don’t just “become” gay one day…but she’s a Republican. What do you expect her to think? Anyway, I’m off on a tangent…)

Yesterday, Daughter told me she wanted to be Master Chief from the video game, Halo. Yes, she plays Halo. Don’t judge me. I still want her to be Dorothy. Even the promise of getting the basket with Toto in it is not enough to bribe her into being Dorothy. So I start looking through the costume catalog, my panties all in a wad because Daughter would look so cute as Dorothy. I could braid her hair, and get those fucking shoes again. It would make an awesome photo op goddammit, doesn’t she know that??? I live for that shit.

(And be rest assured this would be my dog if I had one.)  C'mon.  That shit is cute as fuck and you know it.  :)  You know what would be really cute?  If this dog had a Dorothy doll in her basket.  Right?

Last night before bedtime, Daughter gave me the good news…she is going to be Dorothy for Halloween! I asked her if she was serious, and she said YES! Mommies of the world shall unite as one of their sisters has won a small victory. It may have taken me a year to do so, but HELLYES! I only hope that the dumbfuck store manager (or whoever is responsible for these things) doesn’t put the Dorothy costume next to Master Chief otherwise I’m going to throw a tantrum right in the middle of the store. I mean it.

P.S.  Check back in the next day or two, as I may be posting a few pics of daughter in Halloweens past.

Daughter Can Be Freakin' Hilarious

This past weekend, I took Daughter and visited my parents cottage "up north". Daughter and I usually sleep together and so when we woke up on Sunday morning, we were just chatting as we were waking up. Since it was a bit humid the night before, I wondered if she was stinky. And in case you didn't know, little kids' armpits get stinky even though they haven't reached puberty. I had no idea this was the truth until I had my own child. Of course, they don't smell like adults and need deodorant, but if you get up close, they're rank little creatures too. So Sunday morning, I was teasing her and I asked her if her pits smelled. Her arms were above her head already, so she turned her head to put her nose in position, took a whiff, looked me straight in the eye, and with a deadpan expression said:

"No. They smell like flowers."

I nearly rolled out of the bed. The words were not as funny as the deadpan expression on her face, but the combination was priceless. Ahhh, young jedi, you are learning the ways of sarcasm well....

Ode to August

It’s that time of year again…tomorrow is the first day of August. August means a lot of different things to me, but most importantly, my birthday is in August and August means summer is almost over. Both a beginning and an end for me, August always makes me feel reflective.

As a beginning – the beginning of another year of life for me – always makes me reflective on the year that has passed. Last year, at this time I was unemployed, was pretty sure I had bombed the Bar exam (I did) and I didn’t have a whole lot to look forward to. I was wallowing in depression and self-pity and I wasn’t looking forward to my birthday AT ALL (which is very unusual, as I ALWAYS look forward to my birthday because it is the day where we can all celebrate the wonderful fabulosity of me…thank you Kimora Simmons Lee for introducing me to “fabulosity”).

Looking back on this past year, I’d have to admit it’s been quite a roller-coaster ride. From unemployment came a horrendous job that I only stayed at because I had to find a way to pay for Christmas. Thank goodness my current job came around because I didn’t know how much longer I could have stayed at my last job before I was going to lose it.

At the end of 2008 I was also very scared Husband was going to (possibly) lose his job with Ford. I was literally terrified. I was upset with President Bush, I was upset with republicans, I was upset with people who drove around the Detroit area in foreign cars…I was just upset. Upset and terrified I'd lose my house and have to move in with my in-laws *shudder*...kidding. They're actually really nice people and maybe I could have finally learned how to cook food Husband will eat (unforch, I only know how to cook "American" food even though we're all fucking Americans...ok, I digress. Obviously another topic for another day.) Anyhoo, looking back, I can say that I am so thankful he didn’t lose his job and thankful that Ford didn’t need the bailout money. And while my retirement savings were severely depleted thanks to cashing out ½ of my 401(k) to pay down lots of debt after my stint at being unemployed (Suze Ormond would maybe have kicked my ass for that), I still know that we are in a better place than lots of people. I still have my house, I still drive a nice car (a FORD thankyouverymuch), Daughter can still get a new Wii game every once in a while, and I can still go apeshit at the Coach outlet (within reason). *whew*

I am hoping that this next birthday brings me lots of joy and happiness. I can’t say I’m happy with turning 38, but age is only a number, right? How come when you’re a kid, people in their 30s+ seemed so OLD? I don’t feel “old” or “middle-aged”, although as Husband quite eloquently put it a few weeks ago, we are probably close to be ½-way done with our lives. Dammit. And I haven’t even gotten the hang of it yet.

Besides the birthday thing, August also is signaling the end of summer. This summer sort of blew, because we really haven’t had “summer” weather all that much. The days have been on the cool side, lots more days in the 70s and low 80s, than in the 90s. While I’m not complaining (even though it would seem like it) because I love sunny days in the 70s, it’s been too cool for the lakes to warm up or for daughter to spend a lot of time in the pool (no I don’t have one, but one of Husband’s uncles does and last year she LIVED in that pool). I don’t have much of a tan (skin cancer be dammed!). On the bright side however, my electric bill has been reasonable because we haven’t had to turn on the central air everyday – and that’s kind of nice because I love having the windows open on a cool night.

I’m sad that summer is nearly over because that also means Daughter goes back to school. I know lots of parents look forward to getting rid of their kids once the school year begins again, but I don’t feel that way. Daughter is a kid who certainly wears me out with all of her chatter and her desperate need to be the center of attention (the only-child syndrome, I suppose), but even when I can’t hear myself think because she’s blabbing on about Spiderman, or Spongebob, or some Wii game, or some new iCarly episode (it's on Nickelodeon and actually isn't half bad) – I enjoy spending time with her because I’m her best friend. I know the day is going to come where she’s going to prefer talking and being with her friends over me, and that day is going to break my heart. In the meantime, I just try to cherish this time and somehow dig deep and learn to really give a shit about iCarly, Spongebob, Wii Games and Spiderman.

Even though it’s a little early, I’m going to say goodbye to my 37th year. Can’t say it was all bad, can’t say it was all good. BUT, I’m not going to say goodbye to summertime just yet. Like Daughter, I’m just going to try and enjoy the time we have together and not worry too much about what’s around the corner.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

My BFF Shannon, recently got her seven-year-old daughter a cell phone. Now, regardless of what you think about this decision -- fact is, the kid has a cell phone and that's that. I spent some time with her daughter over the 4th of July weekend, and she’s a nice kid. She’s just like every other 7-year-old, and having a cell phone hasn’t made her obnoxious or anything. The only negative I can find from it is now Daughter wants a cell phone too. UM…AIN’T HAPPENING. The kid loses everything (including her glasses while she's in the house) on a daily basis, so I know she’s not ready. Plus, who does she need to call anyway? No one, that’s who. Shannon and her babydaddy don’t live together, so I sort of see why she gave her the phone. Two households and whatever.

But the point of my story is that kids are funny sometimes. And they latch onto technology like a duck goes to water. Case in point. Shannon’s daughter was recently at her father’s house, and was in the bathroom dropping a deuce. Because she’s only 7, she sometimes needs help with the wiping. So instead of calling her dad to come and help her wipe – SHE TEXTED HIM. She texted “come wipe my butt”. HILARIOUS, right?

Here We Go Again

“Everytime I think I’m out, they pull me back in!”
--Godfather 3, Michael Corleone

Daughter got another fucking goldfish, y’all. She won him at her school fair a couple of weeks ago. Her last goldfish, Freddie Fishsticks, died back in February. Read his obituary here. After Freddie died, I threw out everything of his (which wasn’t much), because I was pretty sure we were not going to be getting another fish. A large bowl and some rocks went in the garbage because after all, he died in the bowl – but for some reason, I kept the food (must be the childhood lectures about never throwing out “good” food, even though who the fuck was going to eat the goldfish food?) Good thing I kept it though. It was one less thing I had to re-buy when she won this new one. Dammit. Just like Michael Corleone, I thought I was out of being a goldfish owner, but I got pulled back in!

This one is not one of your garden variety goldfishes – he’s orange/red and white and he has a little red slash of color on his top lip that reminds me of a moustache. Daughter named him “Red Lips” because of it. I know – it’s not a very sophisticated name, but what do you expect from a six-year-old? Freddie got a semi-cool name because I helped. I liked the double-Fs…you know, the alliteration of his name. I didn’t help this time. So, this morning, Daughter said his “full” name:

Swimmy Red Lips Fishsticks Coreleone

(well, it’s not “Coreleone” but we have an Italian last name,

so “Coreleone” is as good as a substitute for it as I can make up)

So there you go. Join me in welcoming Swimmy Red Lips Fishsticks to the family.

Vacation Recap: The Grand Finale

Day Four: Sunday

I know I’m long overdue on this final chapter in my Vacation Recap. You’ll have to excuse me, because between my A.D.D. (which causes me to start all kinds of shit, but not finish nearly any of it), being irritable and homicidal, and THEN getting my Bar results…I haven’t felt much of any kind of happy needed to complete my recap.

Sunday was a lot like Saturday was – started with being out by the pool, and ogling Mr. Perfect for much of the day. Daughter got another full day of swimming in, I didn’t drink as much Smirnoff Ices and I stayed in the shade. I’m probably the only person who goes to Florida and comes back just as white as when I left (oh, except for my bright pink shoulders and back. Yeah. Typical white chick.)

My mom and I discussed what we were going to do for dinner that night, and decided we did not want to go wherever Auntie, the Greek Goddess and Brittney were going, because frankly, I was in the mood for a nice, juicy steak. Cooked medium and bleeding all over my plate, and I was sure that the Greek Goddess didn’t want to go to a steakhouse, and therefore, neither would any of us. I was not going to let her dictate where I was going for dinner AGAIN, so mom and I decided to go to one of the restaurants located on the condo property. We checked out the menu – where I saw they had a nice filet mignon (my favorite) and the decision was made. Done.

Auntie, in all of her Penny Pinching Glory kept asking us if we were going out for dinner. She wanted to make sure we ate the rotisserie chicken and leftovers (The Greek Goddess’ pasta salad and whatnot – apparently, she doesn’t eat leftovers). Oh and there was some instant mashed potatoes in the pantry she brought with her that we could eat too. And some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for Daughter! I told my mom that I was #1) not cooking any fucking thing on my vacation, #2) I wanted a goddam steak for dinner and #3) Auntie could shove her instant mashed potatoes and leftover pasta salad up her tightwad ass. Mom was still smarting over the being ripped off part of her vacation, so she was an easy sell. We decided we were going to throw the chicken away behind Auntie’s back (and I said we should also throw the potatoes, the mac and cheese and the pasta salad away too).

We were finally able to sneak away from everyone and go have our nice dinner. After dinner, I took Daughter to the arcade that was on the condo property and let her wiz through $20 worth of tokens (not actual tokens, but they were on a card-thing that you swiped).

We got back to the room and everyone was gone. It was at this point when mom threw out the chicken and we had a good laugh. While she was doing it, she also threw out the rest of her beer and my Smirnoff Ices because no one was going to drink them – and my mom didn’t want to get blamed for encouraging underage drinking by leaving them for The Greek Goddess and Brittney. Apparently, a couple of summers ago, The Greek Goddess got shitfaced at my parents cottage on Lake Huron, while in the company of my brother. Auntie chewed my mom’s ass for “allowing” it to happen, even though she wasn’t there to supervise (nor should she have to – my dipshit brother should have known better. Truth be told, I would have let her get bombed too – I’m not that uptight. I mean, when I was 15 there was always an available adult to buy for me and let me get drunk and since the kid wasn’t driving anywhere, where’s the harm? Auntie didn’t quite see it that way, but whatever.) My mom didn’t want to have a repeat of underaged drinking being blamed on her so down the sink they went.

Fast forward to the next morning when Auntie discovers my mom has poured all of the available alcohol down the sink. SHE BLOWS A FUCKING NUT! It was classic because in the process, calls my mother “hateful” – which doesn’t quite make sense, because she said she was hateful because of my brother and father (both alcoholics). I don’t know how dumping out a few beers equates being hateful – but whatever. She tells my mom that maybe she wanted one of the beers…well, then Bitch. Go buy them yourself. My mom comes into the bedroom where I am (we’re packing up getting ready to leave and I’m all – What the Hell is going on?) and she tells me what just happened, i.e., the “hateful” comment. I tell my mom that since we paid for the alcohol, we have every right to pour it down the sink, take a bath in it, brush our teeth with it, or do whatever we damn well please with it, and Auntie can go fuck herself over this whole thing. I was so over this vacation it wasn’t even funny.

Auntie dropped us at the airport with no further incidents. There were no masked girls sitting in front of us, so there were no fake sneezes or coughs. I just couldn’t wait to get home and be done with this vacation already.

I am so pissed at my Aunt I could smack her. Best thing is The Greek Goddess’ high school graduation is this weekend and I’ll be forced to endure an afternoon with Auntie again. Will the fun ever end?

Keep Hope Alive!

I know I have not finished my vacation recap yet, but I’ve had a few other things on my mind that I need to write down, so here I am.

If you know me personally, you know that I struggle with trying to remain “positive”, even though I’d consider sarcasm and negativity as something that I’ve developed since puberty as a means of self-defense, self-preservation, and overall, a means to deal with all The Crazy that I have to deal with in my life (and if you only know me through this blog, you also know that dealing with The Crazy is not easy, and I have my days where I snap and the negativity takes over).

Definition of The Crazy
Pronunciation: thə \ˈkrā-zē\
Function: noun
(1) My family (mostly having to do with My Mother, but also includes My Brother, My Dad and all of the other extended family members that I choose not to speak to or include in my life because they’re truly nuts);
(2) My depression issues (which is mostly controlled nicely by pharmaceuticals, although since I switched meds in November/December, I have noticed I am having a harder time controlling my anger – NOT GOOD – but so far, I haven’t killed anyone, so we will consider that a “win”);
(3) My A.D.D. issues (which again, are supposedly being controlled by the new medication, although I can’t decide whether it’s working or not and would just rather go back on my old meds).

This morning, on my drive into work, I was listening to The Morning Jolt with Larry Flick and Keith Price, on Sirius OutQ. You know I love this morning show, since I’ve mentioned it before in my blog. I came to their discussion topic right in the middle, however, what I gleamed was they were talking about things that make you feel hopeful. One woman called into the show and said that she stopped watching the evening news, and stopped reading the newspaper, because all of the news is always so depressing. Apparently, she read my rant and agreed with me (and I guess I’m not so crazy after all). Anywhose, I started thinking about things that made me feel hopeful – which being who I am and being forced to deal with The Crazy on a daily basis – sometimes is not the easiest thing to do.

At first, the only thing I could think of that made me feel hopeful, was Daughter. Recently, I’ve noticed she has started developing her sense of humor in a more clever way (and not just in that little-kid way where poop jokes are funny or where knock-knock jokes are funny). This is demonstrated by the way she taunted Husband during our most recent game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, where she was clucking like a chicken and egging him on. I love watching her personality develop and I love spending time with her. Now it’s twice as better because she’s funny. I made this remark to Husband this weekend and he said “You didn’t think she’d grow up in THIS house without forming some sort of twisted sense of humor, did you?” (And no, I didn’t think so. But it’s nice to be reassured that she’s going to understand and appreciate our sarcasm and dark senses of humor. *WHEW*)

Then I realized the sun was shining, I was alert and awake (relatively), and I was healthy (again, relatively). Not too shabby, and good reasons to feel hope in my heart. I hoped the weather would stay sunny, that I would stay alert and awake (and just in case I did, I had a whole stock of 5-hour-energy drinks thanks to Walgreen’s Buy 2, get 1 free sale this weekend), and I hoped my health would stay good.

As my thoughts grew deeper, and I passed over the superficial stuff like the sunshine and being alive (and by superficial, I mean – those are all typical things people are happy about – “well, be happy you woke up this morning!”….check), I started to think of things that made me feel hopeful:

1. Music makes me feel hopeful. Especially any kind of dance or pop music. It’s just fun and easy and you don’t have to think too hard about it. I know a few people who are very serious about music and would scoff at my love of Britney or the Black Eyed Peas or whoever. I want to tell them to get over themselves, because it’s not like music is going create world peace or feed the starving children in Africa. Well, unless your Bono or you bought “We are the World.” And that wasn’t a knock because I love Bono, and I enjoyed “We are the World” and Live Aid when I was in 8th Grade.

2. Pharmaceutical drugs make me feel hopeful. Laugh all you want at that one, but it’s a good thing I didn’t become a pharmacist, because I would be stealing from the pharmacy like nobody’s business. I love anti-depressants, Xanax and Ambien. Without those drugs, my life would be HELL. Me AND a bunch of my friends. Oh, and you can’t forget birth control pills (thank you Seasonique for my 4 periods a year) and my thyroid meds (without which, I’m sure I would have died or something).

3. Technology makes me feel hopeful. Husband and I were talking about this yesterday. Well, not technology in general – we were talking about cell phones. The conversation when something like this:

Him: Who knew that cell phones would be so popular as they are.
Me: I know. I know people who get satellite TV on their cell phones. And who knew you’d use it for more than making a phone call.
Him: You can’t even leave home without it now.
Me: Pretty soon they’ll do everything for you – like they’ll cook dinner someday.
Him: *laughs*

He laughed because it’s probably true. Like you’ll press a button and your food will be beamed right to you from somewhere. Punch up McDonalds and *beam* there’s your Big Mac and fries. Hey, it could happen. If they can make cats and dogs glow in the dark, your cell phone will be able to cook your dinner someday. Mark my words.

4. Summertime makes me feel hopeful. I’m so glad the weather is getting nicer. Because it’s about time. I know we still have a little ways to go before we go into full-on Summer, but these 60-degree days filled with sunshine sure are nice. I am one of those people that stops wearing a jacket about mid-March, just daring Mother Nature to give me cold weather. I love when the Ice Cream Man comes to the neighborhood, and I love opening the windows in my house. It’s nice to hear the birds singing in the morning, and to breathe in that fresh cool morning air while laying in bed. Of course, pretty soon the weather will get too hot to leave the windows open, but I decided last year that I love the summer – even the humid 98-degree days where I stick to everything. Sure beats the snow and grey days.

5. The Red Wings make me feel hopeful. This one might sound corny, but I have had a thought during the last several playoff games I’ve watched (which I’ll share in a minute). If you’ve ever been to Joe Louis Arena during the playoffs, it’s certainly a special place to be. It has this electricity running through it that is hard to describe unless you’ve experienced it. Since Husband and I could not afford to buy playoff tickets this year, we are forced to watch the games from the comfort of our living room – and watching the past couple of games (WINS) gave me the aforementioned thought: For all of the shitty news coming out of Detroit (Chrysler filing for bankruptcy, the fears that GM will soon follow suit, the high unemployment rate, people losing their homes due to foreclosure, etc. etc. etc.), you’d never know it looking at the people at The Joe. The Red Wings make people forget the shit all around them for a few hours and gives them a reason to smile and give high-fives and shout “Woooooo!”. The excitement is enough to give you a heart attack (especially game 7s, when the score is tied until the last three minutes of the game) – but the excitement is also enough to make you believe that everything will be OK with the world.

What makes you feel hopeful?

Vacation Recap, Day Three: Sitting Poolside, Then Dinner at the Carnival

Day Three: Saturday
After our extremely busy day at the Magic Kingdom, the big plan for Saturday was to sit our asses by the pool and let Daughter play and go down the waterslide 400 times. My personal plan was to number one, get drunk, number two, work on my tan, and number three, let my mother watch my kid play in the pool. I know, it is a bit irresponsible of me, but my mother is a pretty responsible adult, and I knew if I got shitfaced, that at least my kid wouldn’t drown out there. Oh, and she’d also not get sunburned (because my mom applies sunscreen to her, like every 30 minutes) and she’d probably -- at least – have to eat some type of fruit and/or vegetable. Which is more than I could say if I was the primary caregiver, because I let her eat whatever she wants (in reason, of course) – I just don’t force fruits or vegetables down her throat.

After a run to the local Publix grocery store for alcoholic beverages – surprisingly enough, my mom bought Corona beers (and a lime) for herself, and I bought some Smirnoff Ice things (grape flavor). I’m a total lightweight when it comes to booze, so I didn’t really need to invest in a bottle of vodka and some cute mixers. Just a few malt beverages, and I’m easy like Sunday morning….

We finally get out poolside – and “we” is me, mom, my kid and Auntie Millie. The Greek Goddess and Brittney decided to park their bikini asses elsewhere in the park, because you know – your family is an embarrassment when you’re 18 and maybe you’ll run into some cute boys. Honestly, all they had to do was stay with us, because truth be told, there was a hot- ass guy with the people next to us, and all he did ALL DAY was lay on his lounge chair and get a tan. See, there is a God, because with my sunglasses on, he didn’t see me leering at him all day long like I was The Big Bad Wolf and he was one of The Little Pigs. I couldn’t help but stare. Really, it wasn’t my fault. That’s what happens when washboard abs and stomach/arm/back tattoos are shoved in my face, especially when they’re attached to a great smile. Damn. He was so hot I almost wanted to ask him what was going on downstairs, because if he was hung like a baby, I might have enjoyed that tidbit – it would have meant that not all good-looking, tanned, perfect men have everything going for them (and whoever says size doesn't matter is lying. No on wants to have sex with a cocktail weenie). Because how would I know about hot guys? I’ve been with the same man for the last 21 years. It’s not like there were a lot of (read: none) tanned, hotties in my past (and if there were, my lips are sealed). I wanted to know if his luck with women was because of his pretty face/body AND the little extra he carried around, or if his girlfriends were devastated when he took it all off. Seriously, I was thisclose to asking him. But I didn’t. Not because I was afraid of my mom overhearing me – because trust me, she noticed him too. He was there with an older woman, who my mom decided was his sugarmama or something. I decided this assessment was incorrect, because they were also with another guy who looked an awful lot like Mr. Perfect, although he wasn’t as tanned – and also a little girl who was about 3. I figured the little girl belonged to Mr. Perfect’s brother, and that the woman was their mother. After explaining this to my mom, she agreed. I then added that if indeed, Mr. Perfect was her boytoy, the woman deserved a high-5 and my mom laughed. Then agreed. So you know she noticed him too.

After thanking Baby Jesus that Mr. Perfect was nearby so I had something interesting to look at besides Daughter jumping around in the pool – I spent the rest of the afternoon sunning myself, and drinking a few Smirnoff Ices. Of course, after my third one, I dozed off on my stomach in my chair for about 20 minutes (which caused quite a burn on my back – DUH…stupid me forgot sunscreen on MY BACK). I woke up and told my mom I was going back to the room to lay down, i.e., sleep off my buzz. The sun and the booze zapped all of my energy. I was laying down for about an hour before everyone came up to the room, and Daughter got into bed with me and we napped. Zzzzzz….

I wake to Auntie Millie and The Greek Goddess arguing about something. Which I would not have really noticed except I hear my name and something about waiting for me and Daughter to get up from our naps. WTF? I see the clock, and it’s like 5pm or something. Now, I know no one is going to question me about taking a nap, right? Especially considering my kid is asleep too, so it’s not like I’ve sluffed my parenting duties on someone else for the afternoon. And especially considering this is my fucking vacation too, and one of my favorite indulgences is napping. Napping accompanied by a strong sun and alcohol is one of the best naps ever, right?

I decide that I am going to seek out my mom to find out what all of the hullaballu is regarding this overheard conversation – I was in our bedroom with the door shut and overheard the muffled discussion. Maybe I’m overreacting and no one cares that I’m still napping? I wait an appropriate amount of time before getting up – so as not to cause alarm in The Greek Goddess or Auntie in thinking I may have overheard their talking about me – and find my mother out on the screened in balcony. She’s alone so I’m all “WTF?” to her and she tells me that The Greek Goddess wants to leave soon (we’re all going out to dinner together) and she was pissed that Daughter and I were “still” napping. Now, I could have marched into The Greek Goddess’ room and got all confrontational on her, but I decided to deal with the situation in the most passive-aggressive way possible. Which was to allow my kid to continue to sleep, and to not get ready to leave until she got up. The Greek Goddess, her friend and my aunt could suck my ass if that’s the way they were going to act. It was five-fucking-thirty on a Saturday night in Florida. Blow me, Ladies.

My mom and I continued to chat a bit – and remember when I promised that you were going to be appalled by Auntie Millie’s behavior? Well, here it comes…Auntie had rented to condo from a guy she works with. She rented it for a week, and because the guy owns a timeshare or something, he gave her a break on the price. She told my mom that he was charging her $1,000 for the week, so my mom had agreed to give her $450 for the time that we were staying there. Which I thought was a fair price, considering we were gone Monday morning. During my nap, Auntie and my mom were out on the balcony just chatting and whatever, and Auntie lets it slip (by accident, I’m sure) that they guy gave her the condo for the week for $500! Which means, my mother basically PAID the entire fee for the condo rental! I nearly shit a brick, especially because Auntie has been so bitchy and acting like we were such an inconvenience to her. I mean, if I had just swindled my sister into paying damn-near the ENTIRE condo rental fee -- which meant my accommodations, as well as my bratty teenager and her friend all got to stay in Orlando for $50 for the week – I’d be KISSING HER ASS!

I was so pissed for my mom – of course, my mom didn’t confront her on what she said, because not only do I like to act passive-aggressive, so does she. I don’t know if I would have been able to hold my tongue during that conversation – which came on the heels of an earlier conversation where Auntie threw up in my mom’s face – “Where else could you stay in Orlando for $450 for 4 nights?” Quite ironic, considering the bitch is staying in Orlando for $50 for 7 nights. Can you believe it???? My mom was really hurt. I was just pissed because after all, we’re family, and you really shouldn’t be trying to ram it into the ass of your sister, should you? Like I mentioned before, Auntie has NO money and I’m sure was worried about how she was going to pay for this trip. But I’m sorry – you shouldn’t take advantage of your sister like that, no matter how desperate you are.

The night only got better – after we all got ready to go out to dinner, we ended up in this place call “Old Town”, which was an interesting mix of a carnival (with rides) and little shops. When we first arrived, I was all judgmental and thought it was beneath me to be there, but after a few minutes, I decided to keep an open mind. After all, carnies need to feel the love too (and FYI – I ended up loving the place. It was very clean, and fun and a great place to hang out because there’s something for everyone). We were trying to decide where to eat dinner and at one point The Greek Goddess and Auntie Millie get into an argument over where to eat, because after all, The Greek Goddess is a holier-than-thou vegetarian (and I got nothing against vegetarians – one of my best friends is one), but I do have a problem with those vegetarians that have to act like they’re doing the planet a favor by not eating meat. I also don’t appreciate those that act like they’re better than me because of their diet. (I especially love how The Greek Goddess acts like her diet is so much “healthier” – yeah, that double-chocolate muffin her and Brittney had for breakfast, washed down with their chocolate milk was so healthy. Carb-overload! Sugar coma!) So we’re walking along, trying to find a decent restaurant to eat, and I overhear The Greek Goddess say something like, “Well, we’re REEEEEEEEEEALLLLLL Vegetarians” (meaning her and Brittney) and I’ve about had enough of this conversation. It is at this moment, we come about a Tex-Mex restaurant (which is where I wanted to eat and where The Greek Goddess doesn’t because she doesn’t think there’s going to be “real” vegetarian meals there…ever hear of a fucking cheese quesadilla????). And wouldn’t you know it? Prominently displayed in the window is a sign that says, “Ask us about our VEGETARIAN MENU”. I nearly peed my pants in excitement. My mom sees this sign and makes sure to be as loud and obnoxious as The Greek Goddess is being, and says “See! ‘Ask us about our vegetarian menu’ – I’m sure they have something for you REALLLLLL vegetarians to eat” only she says it so everyone eating out on the deck hears her for maximum embarrassment to The Greek Goddess. The Greek Goddess says something smart-ass to my mom, and Auntie just stands there like she can’t control her kid. So I have finally had enough, and I tell everyone to get their asses inside because I’m tired of all this shit, and I tell The Greek Goddess to shut the fuck up because she acts like she knows everything, when in reality, she doesn’t know shit. That shut everyone up. At that point, everyone looked at me like monkeys had started flying out of my ass, but holy fuck. I was DONE with the bullshit.

We went inside and ordered our food. And due to my outburst, we all sat for the first few minutes in an uncomfortable silence. Everyone except Daughter who is oblivious to everything, bless her little soul. When the food came out to us, there was one more little hiccup courtesy of The Greek Goddess. She gets her quesadilla and starts picking through it…”ugh…it’s got mushrooms on it! I can’t eat this.” The dipshit had ordered the vegetable quesadilla thinking she’d get a cheese quesadilla. Brittney was smart enough to have ordered a cheese quesadilla, thinking she’d get a cheese quesadilla. Teenagers. I wanted to smack The Greek Goddess and ask her what exactly did she think of when she heard the word “vegetable”, but I stayed out of it. The restaurant was nice enough to replace her food and get her what she “really” wanted, even though she didn’t order it correctly. I wished they would have charged her for it. That would have been awesome and would have sent Auntie into a financial tailspin.

When we leave the restaurant, I had had enough of bitchy teenage vegetarians for the evening, and we split up. My mom, Daughter and I ended up going into one of those photography places where they do old fashioned photos and you can dress up in Victorian clothing, or old west, or whatever and the pictures are brown and white. I dressed Daughter up in the “gangster” theme and got some photos done for my father-in-law. I figured I’d exacerbate the Italian stereotype a little more by doing this – and considering Husband’s shady family history – I figured this photoshoot would be appreciated. (It was.) After the pictures, we have to wait 30 minutes before we can pick out our proofs, so we decide to take Daughter to the carnival part of Old Town and let her ride some rides. I get her the “kiddie” bracelet – no limit to riding the kid rides. She was tickled pink especially when she found out there was a kiddie rollercoaster (she loves rollercoasters) and a giant slide you slide down on a burlap sack. Those were her two favorite rides and she must have ridden the rollercoaster about 10 times over the evening, and gone down the slide 10 times too. It wasn’t very busy on that part of the carnival, so I was glad because there was not a very long wait for her. I chatted on my cell phone with Husband for a while and then my mom and I chatted, watching Daughter. I decide at about 9:30 or so that we should go pick up our pictures.

We’re in the photo place and wrapping up our order when mom realizes that Auntie has called her 3 times. Whoops. She calls her when we leave the place (about 5 minutes later) and Auntie screams at her, “WE’RE AT THE CAR!” because you know, our crystal ball should have tipped us off to the fact that they were ready to leave. This sets me off and I tell my mom that I promised Daughter she could ride the rollercoaster two more times before we left, and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to tell me that we need to leave at this second, without me being able to fulfill my promise. So Fuck Them. We have to pass the parking lot on our way to the kiddie rides (my mom is convinced they saw us), and during our walk, I tell my mom that I DARE anyone to question me about letting Daughter take her last rides. Don’t poke a mama bear, y’all. I was ready to GO THE FUCK OFF on anyone who said something.

I let Daughter take her last rides, and we get to the car. Funny enough, no one says a fucking peep about anything. It was like they overheard my threats. Because it would have been ON if The Greek Goddess had opened her mouth. I think I would have went all Jerry Springer on her AND Auntie if either of them had said something. But luckily for them, no one said shit. You could have heard a pin drop on the ride home.

We got back to the condo and Daughter watched a movie on the portable DVD player, while mom and I read a book in our bedroom. Honestly, my family can suck it sometimes. Especially when my cousin acts like such a bitch and my aunt rips my mom off. Doesn’t anyone have any class anymore? Apparently not.

It was at this point in my vacation when I was ready to come home. I was glad I only one full day left to spend with these nutjobs. My mom snores to wake the dead, so besides not getting a good night sleep, I was just tired of everyone involved. Except of course, my kid. At least I can expect someone to behave themselves. And funny enough, my mom was relatively easy to take on this trip too. Maybe because I was her only ally.

Vacation Recap, Day Two: Destination: The Magic Kingdom

Day Two: Friday

Disneyworld, here we come! Now, I haven’t been to Disneyworld since my honeymoon, in 1995 and a lot of things about the whole Disney Experience have changed. It’s still the “happiest place on Earth”, but a few days before my trip – I figured out that the place is a Major Attraction. I mean, M-A-J-O-R. I sort of had an idea – but honestly, I hadn’t paid much attention to it because I wasn’t planning a trip there so why bother, right? One thing about me is that if it doesn’t affect me directly, I’m rather oblivious to things. I was oblivious to the Disney Machine until like 2 days before the trip. DUHHHHHhhhh to me.

My mom, who is a World-Class Scrapbooker, made Daughter this sweet-ass autograph book. When I say it was “sweet-ass”, I am 100% serious. Donald Duck lost his shit when he saw it – demonstrated by the fact that he had to show it to every single Disney worker in the immediate vicinity prior to signing it, miming his awe, because he’s doesn’t talk. I have the pictures to prove it. Too bad he couldn’t talk, because I’m sure he would have said, “This autograph is sweet-ass.” You could read it all over his face! Really! It was a little three-ring board book thing, that my mom covered in Mickey Mouse fabric. Some of the pages were Disney-generic, while some of the pages – like the Donald Duck one, Ariel, Cinderella, Mickey, Minnie – they were character-specific. So while Donald was signing the autograph book, he actually had his own page in the book. He wasn’t signing one of those rinky-dink autograph books that you can buy in the park. Oh no. He was signing a one-of-a-kind autograph book made by a World-Class Scrapbooker.

Anyway, I also discovered that there is a collection of penny press machines around WDW (Walt Disney World for those of you not in the know). I figured Daughter would get a kick out of trying to find all of the machines, and she’d also enjoy watching the pennies get stamped with all of the different designs. BTW, I was right. And I have 46 pennies and 8 quarters that went through the penny presses, stored in the souvenir book sold at WDW. She got all excited everytime we came upon a new penny press machine. I especially loved the ones where you got more than one penny design (lots of them had 4 penny designs). I liked being able to fill up her souvenir book. I didn’t like having to haul around 3 rolls of quarters and one roll of pennies…but I did it for her. And it was a lot cheaper than collecting the pins they sell or any of the other collector crap at Disney. I got off cheap with the penny collection, considering the cheapest pins sold for $7 apiece.

Our day started when Auntie Millie dropped us off at The Polynesian as planned, and we Monorailed over to The Magic Kingdom. We arrived at the entrance around 8:20am, and MK is scheduled to open at 9am. So far, so good – we are on schedule. Since it’s going to be a hot day, I tell my mom I am going to go buy a pair of sunglasses for Daughter and I – because like the idiot I am, I leave my 10,000 pairs of sunglasses at home and only pack one pair. They were brand new (never worn) and got crushed in my purse during the flight. I love wasting money, don’t you? I go to the little kiosk thing that is outside MK, and get a pair for myself, and also find the cutest pair of lavender-teal Little Mermaid pair for Daughter. She is wearing her teal Little Mermaid, “Disney on Ice” T-shirt she got a few weeks ago when Disney on Ice was in town, so I figure these are going to match her tee perfectly, and she will look adorable all day long. (I was right. Those sunglasses were da fucken bomb!)

About 10 minutes before MK opens, they put on this little show up above the entrance where the train arrives. The train pulls up and who should get out? Fucken MICKEY MOUSE! I about lose my shit like the girl in the footage of the Beatles showing up in America, coming out of the airplane. You’ve seen it right? Yeah, that was me. Then, Snow White comes out of the train! Holy Shit! Snow White too???? I nearly pissed myself.

After the performance, MK opens and we are off. The plan for the day was to start in Fantasyland, where the Dumbo, Peter Pan, Teacups, etc. rides are because they are some of the most popular. Also, Ariel’s Grotto is there, and if you don’t get your ass in line as soon as MK opens, you will be waiting forever to get her signature. And with the Special Autograph Book we HAD to get in line immediately. So Daughter met Ariel who was adorable…let me tell you – I was just as excited. I’m sure you already gathered that I get off on meeting the characters like I was 6 years old too, but I’m just saying. We got some pictures and her autograph, and Daughter was excited. We rode a bunch of rides and moved along.

We spent most of the day looking for penny press machines, riding the rides and taking pictures. It was hot as Hell – I think it got near 90 degrees, but I didn’t mind. Most of the rides are indoors and air conditioned so it was a nice break. We never had to wait very long for any of the rides and used FASTPASS for Splash Mountain (which was a good call.) I bought a few souvenirs (I usually get refrigerator magnets from every place I visit), so I got a few magnets, got Daughter Mickey Ears with her name embroidered on them (a MUST as far as I was concerned – she chose the Tinkerbell ones) and my mom bought scrapbook shit and talked me into getting scrapbook shit. Of course.

The characters we met and got autographs from were Goofy, Donald Duck, Peter Pan, Captain Hook and Mr. Smee, Mickey and Minnie Mouse (this was another time I about pissed myself. Everyone in the park kept saying it was a 50/50 chance Minnie would be with Mickey and when she was there…I did a little dance on the inside), Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Belle, Silvermist and Iridessa (two of the fairies) and Tinkerbell. Besides Ariel, Tinkerbell is Daughter’s favorite Disney character. Tinkerbell was AWESOME. She had all of Tink’s mannerisms down and when she saw Daughter’s autograph book (we had her sign the same page as Peter Pan) she lost her shit because of Peter’s signature. “My friend Peter signed too? Look everyone! Peter signed too!” Daughter was giddy. One of the reasons she loves Tinkerbell is because Tink is so sassy. Whenever we watch “Peter Pan” we always joke around and say “Sassy Tink!”…Tinkerbell sure lived up to the sassiness in the movie. She was so great. I could tell Daughter was having a blast. Tinkerbell asked her what she liked to do, and she answered that she loved playing video games. Tinkerbell spent the next 5 minutes asking Daughter to explain what video games were, because, after all, there are no video games in Neverland! Daughter thought this was hilarious and must have mentioned it to me 2-3 times over the weekend. Bravo to Tinkerbell. I swear I want to write Disneyworld a letter and tell them their characters are TOP NOTCH.

One of the rides that Daughter was bugging me to ride all day was The Haunted Mansion. Of course, once we got on it she got scared – especially when the ride got stuck and we sat on it not moving for 5 minutes. She got all creeped out by the tombstones and ghost shit everywhere. I found this incredibly amusing considering how many time she mentioned wanting to ride it. Kids.

We caught one of the parades -- earlier that morning, my mom was talking to some woman who was there with her husband and kids. They were a young-ish couple, and she told my mom that her husband was a soldier who was getting shipped out to Iraq soon, so they came to Disneyworld to spend some “family” time together before he got deployed. Anyway, during their conversation she mentioned Disney has a new parade – I think it’s called “Pumpin’ Up!” or something. We caught it around 3pm as we were on Main Street in one of the gift shops. Daughter knew the song (I have no idea how) and when we got home I found out it was a Hannah Montana song called “Pumping Up the Party” or something similar. Daughter doesn’t watch Hanna Montana, but she knew the song somehow…LOL She has been singing it non-stop since we got home, but it’s a cute song, so I am not 100% irritated by it.

The day was relatively smooth, so I don’t any good stories to tell. My mother behaved and Daughter behaved and we didn’t run into anyone else misbehaving. Darn. I always love a good scene. We stayed for the fireworks in the evening and didn’t leave MK until around 9:45 (I think it closed at 10pm.)

However, I did call Auntie around 9:30 to tell her to pick us up at the Polynesian around 10:15. And of course, when she picked us up, she again had a major attitude. Maybe I was reading into things, but I don’t think so. My mom told me later that for some reason Auntie, The Greek Goddess and Brittney couldn’t go out to dinner because she had to pick us up and they “didn’t have enough time.” I swear, the woman needs some medication or something, because we had told her the fireworks were at 9pm, and that we were “probably” staying for them. We were gone ALL FUCKING DAY. I don’t know about you, but I usually eat dinner anywhere between 6-8pm, right? They ended up ordering pizza on the condo resort and not going out because Auntie had to pick us up. It was about this time that I realized that I was getting extremely irritated by her attitude and her BLAMING my mom, me and Daughter for why she could/couldn’t/wouldn’t do certain things. Again, it’s not my fault if you can’t plan your day properly in order to find time to eat dinner in the 14 hours were at WDW. I wanted to ask her what the fuck her problem was because her shit was getting OLD fast. Next opportunity I get, I am recommending some A.D.D. meds and possibly an anti-depressant to her, because seriously –honest-to-God – she needs them. Get your shit together, Woman! After this trip, she has been placed on my Shit List and I don’t think she’s getting off of it anytime soon. And if you think I’m being harsh, this was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to her shit on this trip…trust me, you’re going to be appalled on Day Three.

So that was our Disney Experience. And it wasn’t until I was already home and back to work when I realized that I forgot to look for the brick that Husband and I purchased after our Honeymoon. Disney was selling bricks at the time (actually, they looked a lot like pavers) that you could get engraved with your names, the year and whatever as a momento. We got one with wedding bells, the year “95” and our names. FUCK. I forgot to look for it. Guess I will never get to see it in person!!!!

I'm Outta Here!

I am taking off for a few days to go vacation in Florida. I am bringing Daughter, but leaving Husband at home. Hopefully, the house will be clean when I get back and I don't have to clear a path through carry-out and pizza boxes!

I'm leaving today and will return on Monday. Hopefully, there will be at least one funny and/or interesting story to tell when I get back. I SHOULD have at least some irritating story, as I am also going with my mother -- and you know she really grinds my gears.

Tomorrow, we are going to Disneyworld and I am hoping Daughter totally loses her shit from all of the excitement. I am expecting to totally lose MY shit from all the excitement, because I haven't been to Disneyworld since my honeymoon...back in 1995. But I have to act dignified on this trip since I am The Mother so my excitement will be internal.

I am dreading the airplane ride because I hate airplanes. I hate being confined, I hate sitting so close to other people, although I'm hoping I am only squished against Daughter and not some stranger -- I hate the take off and I hate the landing. I hate dealing with luggage, and carry-ons and all the other wonderful shit that comes along with air travel.

As a side note, I have packed my Xanax in my purse and expect to need a whole tablet before take-off, instead of the usual 1/2 tablet I need in other situations.

Despite all of this -- I am really excited to go! Doesn't it show???? Seriously, folks. I really am excited even though my mom will make me nuts and my kid will probably drive me nuts too.

Thank the good Lord for Xanax AND alcohol, because I'm probably going to need both!

See you next week....xoxoxox

Quote of the Day

Before I get to the "Quote of the Day" you must first realize that the old game, Rock-Paper-Scissors is used in my house as a means to solve quarrels, to make decisions and also to just show off how awesome you are at some random game...now on to the quote...

"What? You chicken? Bawk, bawk, bawk..." (said in a taunting manner) by Daughter to Husband while we were driving home last night. I had just spanked Husband in best 2 out of 3, and now daughter wanted to take her turn at tanning Daddy's hide. I wouldn't have been at all surprised either, to have turned around and seen her flapping her chicken wings to accompany the bawking. It was just so funny to hear her little voice (it was practically in my ear) teasing and taunting him. And never one to turn down a challenge, Husband proceeded to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with Daughter. Both confident they were going to win.

Sadly, he beat her. However, this taunting will live on forever in our collective hearts, as I believe I've never heard these words come out of her mouth in this exact way...I nearly peed my pants when I had to repeat it for Husband because he didn't hear her say it the first time (as he was too busy doing some Rock-Paper-Scissors mindgame bullshit on her).

I'm sure the day will come when she will get her revenge. Until then, I am the reigning Queen Supreme of RPS! I am undefeated.

Where's that dang tiara...????

How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

I miss having a pet.

Growing up, I always had pets. I’ve had birds, rabbits, dogs, cats and fish. My parents are the type of people who enjoy having pets. Currently, they have two dogs and a cat. The cat was their newest acquisition about a year ago, and her name is SugarBelle. She’s one of those black and white tuxedo cats, and my mom got her from a friend of hers who rescued her when she was only like 6 weeks old or something. Initially, my dad was all in a twist over getting the kitten (pretty much because my mom just sort of came home with her one day without warning), but of course, like all people who are pet-people, he melted when it came to little SugarBelle.

The two dogs that my parents have couldn’t be more opposite of each other. There’s Gizmo – he’s a black and white Pekinese, whom I detest. I never thought I’d have an animal on my Shit List, but if you check it – there’s Gizmo’s name. He’s about 8 years old now, and was cute as hell when my parents got him as a puppy. But that cuteness wore off when we all came to realize that Gizmo had An Attitude. I think one of the reasons why they even got Gizmo in the first place was because we had a kick-ass Pekinese (my childhood dog) who had to be put to sleep in 2000. He was brown and black and although he was as dumb as a box of rocks, he was one of the sweetest animals ever. He was dopey but loveable. His name was Mikey. It fits a dopey, dumb Pekinese, doesn’t it? But back to Gizmo. Gizzy is mean, and he growls and he’s a biter. Luckily, he’s never bitten me or Daughter, but Husband swears, if he ever does, he’s a goner. Yeah…get in line. No one touches my baby, even a little dog. Funny enough, Gizzy is kinda friendly to Daughter (she takes him on walks and gives him cheese), so he sometimes is on the Almost-Off-the-Shit-List List. Almost. Funny enough, Gizmo is my dad’s bitch. He loves my dad. He rolls over on his back and exposes his tummy for my dad and freaks out whenever he sees my dad. Figures, right? He’s bitten my mom. But never my dad.

My parents’ second dog is Annie. She is a mix of a few different breeds, but predominantly a Beagle. She is a very light blonde, almost a white-yellow. She’s old and slow but such a sweet dog (she reminds me of SG’s dog, Rocky, only a smaller version). She’s another one of my mom’s rescue finds – and I believe she was probably abused in a former life, because she’s still kind of timid. I think she’s deaf, but that’s no biggie. She just wants to be petted and loved and fed. Sometimes, she raids Gizmo’s bowl when he’s too slow (or too picky) to eat his meals. Oh well. I laugh and tell Gizmo – “TOO BAD LITLE MAN!” I know, it’s mean, but if you knew him you’d also be gloating in his face.

I like visiting my parents (sometimes) because of their pets. Like I said, I miss having one. I mean, we did have Freddie Fishsticks, but really, a goldfish is hardly a good playmate. I miss curling up on the sofa or wherever, and petting a furry friend.

The main reason why I don’t have a pet is because of Husband. Cats are, unfortunately, absolutely out of the picture – mainly because he’s allergic, and partly because he doesn’t really like cats. I know what you’re thinking – how can anyone not like cats? I know. I’ve wondered the same thing myself. Husband did meet my childhood cat (Diddle) years ago, and he actually admitted she was pretty cool – but that’s because he couldn’t deny the coolness she had. It would be like denying the sky was blue. In my opinion, she was an extraordinary cat. She was so awesome, I have never met another cat like her. She never purred (weird, I know, but we thought she was never taught as a kitten) but you could always tell when she was contented. While she exhibited many of the typical cat behaviors I love so much, especially the “I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think-of-me attitude she was smarter than most people, and would spend a lot of time outside. She was street smart who always looked both ways before crossing the street. I swear. True story. We used to joke that Diddle was a kid from the ghetto and Mikey was like a kid from private school. Diddle kicked his ass on a regular basis and Mikey was a little scared of her. I’m sure she stole his lunch money all the time. :) *sigh* And she was beautiful. She had blue eyes, and was mostly white, with black, brown and orange spots all over her body. She was a stray that we found when we moved into our new house when I was 12 and she was probably about 9 months old. She actually belongs to one of our neighbors that had a mini-farm down the street – animals everywhere. He didn’t mind we kept her (and yes, we asked permission.) Dang, I miss that cat. She died about 3 or 4 years ago after living about 20-21 years. Toward the end it was kind of sad, because she was like this frail old lady with matted fur and missing teeth. I get satisfaction in knowing she died of old age, and had a really long and satisfying life.

So lately, I’ve been longing for a pet. Since cats are off the list, my only choice is a dog. As birds, rabbits, and anything in the “rodent” family (gerbils, guinea pigs, etc.) are also a no from Husband. (Yeah, I know he’s a pain. But he’s MY pain.) Now, I know there are “dog people” and there are “cat people” and even though I’ve had both, I have always considered myself more of a “cat” person. Dogs are smelly and have bad breath. They need exercise and you have to pick up their poop (as opposed to just emptying the cat litter). They are loud at times and sometimes are sloppy and want to lick you. It’s rather undignified, if you ask me. That’s why I love cats. They clean themselves so they don’t stink, they do their business in litter which only smells when you are lazy and don’t change it regularly, and they are never loud or sloppy. They mind their own business and don’t jump all over you. Dignified. Regal. Cats would never find themselves begging or doing stupid tricks for a treat. (We make Gizmo dance around on his hind legs for cheese. DAMMIT! HE DESERVES THE HUMILIATION I TELL YOU!)

Lately, I’ve been thinking that since I must settle on a dog, I wonder what type would be acceptable to me. Short hair is a must. Small in stature is also a must. Both of these are related to my wanting to be able to bathe them on a regular basis (to minimize the “smelly” part). Husband threw in the stipulation that the dog also must not shed. Ugh. Great. That’s going to narrow down my list considerably.

Over Easter, we had dinner at Husband’s cousin’s house. Her name is Angie. Angie has two long-haired dachshunds, named Rocky and Charlie. I love these dogs. They are playful and outgoing. And according to Angie, they only shed when the seasons change. Not bad. Daughter about when apeshit over them, because they love chasing balls and toys – so she had a couple of playmates on Easter.

I am not saying I’m going to get a dachshund, but they’re on my list. I mean, look at those faces on the pic in this post. I'm DYING over the cuteness of the dachshund babies...LOOK AT THOSE FACES. I COULD JUST SQUEAL...But actually, I’d prefer to get a dog from the Human Society or a rescue dog. I don’t want to pay hundreds of dollars for a purebred, when I know there’s plenty of dogs in shelters that are in need of a good home. Plus, most of those dogs are housebroken, and I don’t need a puppy. I once was looking on the web for toy breeds, and found a breeder who was offering miniature pinchers who she actually litter trained. Best of both worlds right there. But they were hundreds of dollars AND she lived on the other side of the state…strike two. Maybe someday when I’m rich I can afford to buy a little dog who shits in cat litter – but today is not that day. I’m going to have to settle for a dog who shits outside like all the others, and who’s genetic history is as varied as mine.

Husband’s aversion for pets, I’m sure, comes from his mother. My mother-in-law is a decent-enough person, but she doesn’t like animals. She just doesn’t. So Husband never had pets growing up – which in my opinion, is akin to child abuse. Every kid should have pets. I don’t want Daughter to grow up and not know what it’s like to care for a pet, because she ADORES animals. She even has said she wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up (and I understand that at 6, she doesn’t know enough to know what she wants to be, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up becoming a vet.) Her preference is a cat (just like me) but she knows Daddy is allergic and will also settle for a dog (just like me).

Hmmm. I need to think some more about this. After all, I’m not running out to get a dog anytime soon – I need daughter to get a little older so she can help out on the responsibilities of caring for the pet (you know, everything has to have a life lesson). But it’s been on my mind since visiting Rocky and Charlie. Damn they were cute and I feel bad for Daughter. She needs a pet since it doesn’t look like she’s ever going to get a brother or sister. The least I can do for her, right?

Freddie Fishsticks, R.I.P.

Daughter's goldfish died, y'all. And while this isn't the most horrible thing to happen, for Daughter, it was a tough day. So I thought I would give you the bio and let you mourn along with our family. Well, not really the entire family, as Husband though all the hullaballu over a fish was stupid, but I look at is as a valuable life lesson to teach a 6 year-old about death -- without the death having to be an actual person -- someone that would be a heartbreak to lose.

His name was Freddie Fishsticks, which I am assuming you already picked up on from the title of the post. But in case you didn't, there you go. I used to joke about his name, because if you say it with our Italian last name, it sounds like an old time Mobster name. Right?

We bought him for 12 cents back in May. He was about an inch long. He was about 3 inches when he died. He swam. He ate a lot. He pooped a lot. That was about it.

He stopped eating last Sunday, so I knew his death was imminent -- and while I tried to prepare Daughter for the inevitable...she still cried her heart out when his death was confirmed. We said a prayer for him to go to fish heaven, or wherever it is that dead fish go -- and then we flushed him.

I felt really bad for Daughter, because this is the first time death has been so personal for her. And yes, like Husband, I understand it is a very small death when put in perspective. But I have always had a soft spot for all animals, and I even felt sad when Freddie died. After all, I was the one who ended up having to feed him and clean his bowl, when the novelty of it all wore off for Daughter.

Daughter and I have had several conversations about death. I never tried to really sugar-coat it for her, especially when the question came up about me dying. Or Husband dying. Or Nana, or Papa, or even her. I try to explain to her that death is part of life -- all living things are going to die eventually someday. Every tree, every flower, every bird...and yes, every person on the face of this earth is going to die. Hopefully, it happens when we are all very, very old, and that way we can say we enjoyed our lives. But sometimes, like Freddie, it happens 9 months after meeting each other and getting to know one another.

When we said goodbye to Freddie, we had a good cry. Daughter cried because her fish died. I cried because she had to experience death and the pain that goes with it. She told me her heart was heavy and it hurt. I know that feeling. I've cried many times for pets, friends and family that have all passed away. I know that one thing that always made me feel better was a strong hug and knowing that I still had people here to experience life with -- and so that's what I did. I hugged her hard, told her that death is part of life, and that I loved her.

One thing I am thankful for is that I have a child who is sensitive enough to care when her fish dies. That goes to show she has a soft and fragile heart that is capable of loving even a goldfish. I am also thankful that I was here to help her through it (I leave to take the Bar tomorrow morning).

So goodbye to you, Freddie. As I mentioned in my prayer, I hope you are in fish heaven, or wherever it is that the spirit of fish go when they die. You were a decent first pet for my then 5-year-old. We had some good times and a few laughs -- remember that time your poop was about 4 inches long? Daughter got a kick out of that (she loves bathroom humor -- she must get it from me). Rest in peace, little fish. Rest in peace. (And I am sorry for flushing you, but considering the ground is hard as a rock outside, I couldn't give you a proper burial. I am sure you have already forgiven me.)