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.

My Mother, My Guilt Trip

Today is my mother’s birthday.

If you know me have read this blog for a while, you know my mother (God Bless Her) is someone who gets on my nerves like no one else can. She has the talent to turn me, a 38-year-old grown woman and mother of one, into a 13-year-old teenage brat. She always makes me feel fat – example: included in my birthday present this year was an aromatherapy roll-on thing that had grapefruit extract in it and was specifically meant to “control hunger”. She told me I could roll it on my wrist and sniff it whenever I was feeling hungry. Gee…thanks mom! Thank you for reminding me once again that I need to lose weight. After all, isn’t that what mothers are for? To remind you of your inadequacies? Anyfat…I digress.

This weekend, my mom helped me organize and staff a moms-to-moms sale I did at Daughter’s school. If you don’t know what a moms-to-moms sale is – it’s like a flea market or garage sale of child-related things. You could get everything from cribs to bicycles to clothing to toys at this sale. I still have lots of Daughter’s baby clothes and since I’m not having any more children (now you know that since I’ve written that statement, I’ll probably end up pregnant before the year is over, right?), I might as well try to make a little cash off of what I have left. And since I’m not patient enough or organized enough to put together garage sale (nor do I really want to commit my entire weekend to sitting outside watching people rummage through my things), I thought the moms-to-moms sale was perfect. It was from 8:30-1pm, and there would be lots of people there.

Since my mom helped me, we decided after the moms-to-moms, I would go home, pick up Daughter and we would go out to lunch to celebrate her birthday. When I got home to pick up Daughter, she was asleep. I decided to let her sleep and went to lunch without her and my mother was not happy about it. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but apparently, this was the first of many mistakes I would make over the weekend. That evening, my mother called me to invite me over to have dinner at her house on Sunday, once again, to celebrate her birthday. This was a huge problem, because for the last year, if not more, Husband, Daughter and I go to Husband’s parents on Sunday evenings for dinner. My mother knows this and is insanely jealous of the time we spend over there. Correction: she is insanely jealous that my inlaws get to see Daughter a guaranteed once a week. As a side note, ever since Daughter was born, my mother turns every visit, every holiday, every everything, into a competition. Who do we visit more? Who do we spend more time with? Frankly, I’m tired of it. It’s not a competition to see who we love more, or whatever she thinks. It’s just that my inlaws are normal and my family is dysfunctional. Every moment my parents spend together is like watching War of the Roses. It’s embarrassing for me, it’s uncomfortable for Husband, and it’s not a good example to set for Daughter. My mother has nothing nice to say to my dad, and my dad has nothing nice to say to my mom. It’s PAINFUL.

But after guilting me into having dinner with her on Sunday (of course I showed up, she’s my mother), she didn’t let the fact die that she had to basically coerce me to visit, and the jealousy shined through like a bright lighthouse beacon.

“Why do you always have to have dinner over there?”
“Why don’t you come have dinner here sometimes?”

Basically, "why are you such a bad daughter and prefer to spend time over your in-laws instead of here, at your childhood home with dad and me?" Here are the answers I would have loved to have given:

1. Because all you do is pick at dad until he’s a broken man.
2. Because dad has no respect for you or any other women, and therefore, I feel compelled to open up a can of Feminist Whoop-Ass on him and cause arguments myself.
3. Because you decide to argue in front of not only me, but Daughter and Husband (even though you know this makes him extremely uncomfortable).
4. Because I hate Gizmo (their evil Pekinese dog) because he growls at me.
5. Because Annie makes me sad (their Beagle who in probably going to be put to sleep this week because she’s old and sick and is probably the sweetest dog ever).
6. Because you guilt me into shit and make me feel like a bad daughter.
7. Because you make me feel fat all the time especially when you point out how "healthy" the dinner you've made is.  Oh and let's include how you think Daughter is fat (she's NOT fat, y'all).  Just because neither of us are anorexic-stick-figures doesn't mean we're fat.  (Well, I'm a little fat, but my child is definitely NOT.)
8. Because you make me feel like a bad mother because I don’t force Daughter to eat vegetables all the time. (Sorry, mom, I’m just trying not to give her food issues like you gave me.)
9. Because you remind me that you almost died, and therefore, I should want to spend every waking moment with you.
10. Because the both of you are Republicans and drive me crazy with your ultra-conservative bullshit.  And I can't stand all of your hatin' on Obama (which I'm convinced has roots in racism which I can't stand.)
11. Bonus: Because you both like Glenn Beck. Who in my opinion, is just as big of a douchebag as Rush Limbaugh. And that’s saying something.

If I had any balls, I would tell my mother to get off the cross, because someone else needs the wood. She is the classic martyr. *sigh*

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!  :)

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?

Look It Up and Be In Wonder Of God's Miracles...

Last night I was flipping through the channels look for something to watch. I really wanted to watch Scrubs, but WGN is still showing the episodes I’ve seen 400 times. When I saw that last night, I wanted to go off on my rant again, but at this point, why bother? It’s obvious they haven’t read my strongly worded letter yet.

Because of the WGN situation, I was forced to check my standby stations. Some of my standby channels are: VH1 (which was showing Daisy of Love or Charm School – and while I’m usually a sucker for both of these shows, I’ve sworn off Daisy of Love because not only is Daisy annoying as fuck, but the guys they picked for her are even more annoying than she is. I’ve also decided not to watch Charm School, because half the girls are from Real Chance at Love and I didn’t watch that one. Plus, I’ve over the whole Charm School concept, after tuning into the first one with Monique). Anyways, since VH1 came up snakeyes, I tried the Food Network, Biography Channel, BBC America, Discovery Channel, TLC and QVC. All were showing nothing I was overly interested in. I was left to surfing the remaining channels, in the hopes I could find something.

I came across the Farrah Fawcett documentary (“Farrah’s Story”) on her battle with cancer on Bravo. As a little kid, I was a Farrah fan. I watched “Charlie’s Angels” and I even had one of those busts of Farrah where you could style her beautiful feathered hair and put makeup on her. I know they still make these types of toys – although certainly not Farrah anymore. Today they’re some Bratz incarnation where the doll looks like a whore instead of a wholesome, All-American cheerleader in the form of feathered-haired-perfect-teeth-beautifully-blonde Farrah.

I remember getting the Farrah bust for Christmas one year and nearly dying over it because I loved playing with it. I also remember being super pissed at my mom that year because she made me share it with her boyfriend du jour and his two daughters, who I swear, fucked up Farrah’s hair. Or used all of the purple eyeshadow, or some other heinous crime. Anyway—I’m getting away from the topic at hand.

I decided to watch a bit of the documentary because I was curious. Howard Stern had been talking about it all week last week – his comments were specifically on how it’s sad how Farrah is dying of cancer, and he wondered on why someone would want to film the battle in all its graphic detail. He wondered if she was so hungry for fame, that she’d stoop to filming her horrific battle for a last morsel of attention. I doubted that she filmed it because of a sick quest for fame – I believe she filmed it because it’s something that no one has done before, or at least no one famous and in such a graphic manner. I’m pretty sure she wanted to show how cancer attacks and makes you a shell of the person you once were. At one point in the documentary, her voiceover was talking about how cancer robbed her of the life she used to have – the life that she took for granted, and how much she wanted to fight to get that life back so she could appreciated it this time around.

I didn’t watch the whole thing because I ended up going to bed around midnight and there was still an hour left. But I have to admit, it affected me – and not for the obvious reasons. Yes, Farrah Fawcett has a special place in my childhood, and yes, her battle with cancer is both fascinating and heartbreaking. But what affected me was that it reminded me of the battle my mom had with a disease called Amyloidosis. My mom sort of looks like Farrah Fawcett – she’s a beautiful petite, blue-eyed, blonde with a pretty smile – which is what first made me think of her while watching Farrah’s story. Amyloidosis is a very rare blood disease that is treated in a number of ways – mainly with chemotherapy. My mom found out she had this disease during my first year of law school. She got very sick, and was in the hospital for months. She underwent chemotherapy, lost a bunch of weight (she was already thin to begin with, but probably got down to about 100 lbs.), lost a lot of her beautiful, thick blonde hair, and also underwent a stem cell transplant. Most people don’t even know they have amyloidosis until it’s too late, because the symptoms usually point to other problems. For example, with my mom, it started with her ankles swelling up. The doctors all thought something was wrong with her liver, and she underwent a million tests on her liver (with the final one being a biopsy). Nope, no cancer…but finally one of the doctors recognized it was amyloidosis.

What I remember most during her diagnosis and treatment was all of the stress I was under. I know it sounds selfish, but picture this – I started law school when Daughter was 8 months old. By January of that first school year, my mom was in the hospital. She was the primary person that was helping with Daughter, because Husband was a new father and like all new fathers, was a bit of a dipshit when it came to babies. I couldn’t really visit my mom all that much in the hospital, because I was working full-time during the day, went to classes Monday-Thursday evenings, and then tried to study and do all of my homework on the weekends (besides still trying to be a mom and wife). Plus, because of the chemo and stem cell transplant, my mom was uber-sensitive to germs, and we all know babies who go to daycare are germ factories. So it was probably best I didn’t visit her, in case I was incubating some germ that would kill her.

She got out of the hospital in March, and then was basically under house arrest for 90 days. She wasn’t really allowed to got out in public, again for fear that germy people would expose her to a cold or something, which would be fatal. Through the whole thing, I did talk to her on the phone a lot, and she sort of lost her marbles for a time being. She talked a lot about God, and how she was going to survive and all of that. She really did have a great mental attitude, even if she was a little bit loopy (seriously, she was kind of spooky-crazy. Difficult to describe, just trust me on this one.) Of course, she tried to mask the seriousness of her condition from me, because she’s a mom and that’s what mom’s do. They try and protect you from the truth and try to make you not afraid. By then, though, I was a grown woman and therefore, not stupid or immune to the seriousness of her condition. I mean, come on, mom. I’m just one of those people who keeps all fear and emotions bottled up. So just because I’m not balling my eyes out or babbling on over how scared I am, doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless that you’re gonna die and not see your granddaughter grow up. I just choose to stick my head in the sand and not face it until it’s absolutely necessary.

And in case you’re wondering – my mom is definitely 100% cured, even though every now and then she gets scared that amyloidosis is going to come back (or that the damage it caused to her liver and heart will become serious). She’s gained back the weight she lost and pretty much looks the same as she did before she got sick. The only real difference, which is not really noticeable to the outside world, is that her hair is so much thinner now. Like I described, her hair was so thick (I mean, I’ve never known anyone to have such thick hair as she did) and it was so blonde and pretty. I always envied her blonde hair (I have to highlight mine to get it anywhere near blonde, whereas hers was natural). Although she doesn’t have a bald spot or anything, if you touch her hair now, it’s baby fine and thin. It makes me think of Farrah and her world-renowned blonde hair, and how much it was her identify, and now, in her last stages of cancer, she’s probably bald. Oh, the sad irony.

Anywhoosit, from what I understand, most people die from amyoidosis, because it attacks your organs (with my mom it started in her liver, damaging that along with her heart). People much older and weaker than my mom find out they have it – thus cannot survive the aggressive treatment of chemotherapy or the stem cell transplant, and instead just take medications that treat the symptoms and not the disease – and then die not too long after their diagnosis. However, 6 years ago, my mom was 48 and was determined to treat it with the most aggressive means. I also know that most people do not survive amyloidosis after five years, but this summer will by my mom’s 6th year being totally “cured”. She is a walking miracle. And in case I ever forget this tidbit – she reminds me all the time. As an example, I texted her while I was writing this because I couldn’t remember the name of the disease:

Me: What was the name of your disease again? I forget.
Mom: Amyloidosis. Rare blood disease. Look it up and be in wonder of God’s miracles.

Yeah. So, y’all. Look it up and be in wonder of God’s miracles. Sorry, I’m being sarcastic here, even though I really am thankful to God that she survived the disease in order to torture me on a daily basis with The Crazy. Really. I swear.

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!!!!

Vacation Recap: Day One

I’m back from vacation, y’all. And I can’t wait to tell you about it!

First, I think it is appropriate to give you character profiles of those that joined me on the vacation:

Daughter: Since I’ve talked about her before, you probably already know about her. But in short, she’s six years old, loves fart jokes, is as smart as a whip (and I’m not just saying that because she is my kid…I swear), is very inquisitive (i.e., asks a million questions a day), never stops talking, is not very shy, loves superheroes, and is very loving and affectionate. In a nutshell, she’s a great kid and I’m glad she’s mine.

My Mother: Relatively speaking, is probably not as big a pain in the ass as I give her credit for (I’m sure all mothers get on all daughters’ nerves), but she has a special talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. She also has a sense of humor that blindsides me, because sometimes I think she has NO sense of humor. More about this later.

My Aunt…we’ll call her “Auntie Millie”: My mother’s younger sister. She is a single mother, didn’t finish high school, never has enough money, is very defensive when it comes to anything and everything, and is jealous of my mother (because my mother lives the dream, apparently. However, if you’ve read any of my posts, you know my mother’s life isn’t all roses and sunshine). Divorced her husband (who lives in Greece) about 15 years ago because not only was he 25 years older than her, he was also a Cheap Fucker and treated her like his servant. More about Auntie Millie later.

My Cousin…we’ll call her “The Greek Goddess”: Just turned 18 (literally, her birthday was the first day of my vacation), thinks she knows everything when in reality doesn’t know shit. This is demonstrated by the fact that she’s planning to go to college in the fall but didn’t know that there are prerequisites and required courses that you have to take in order to finish your degree (such as taking an English class, a History class, etc.) Actually argued with her mother (Auntie Millie) over this (Auntie didn’t know this either since she never went to college – my mom had to fill her in on the whole concept of prerequisites). Oh, she’s also a Vegetarian. This is important to future vacation stories.

Cousin’s friend, “Brittney”: While I try not to judge a book by its cover, I couldn’t help but think this girl is a skanky slut. I’m sorry. When I first saw her I decided to try and give her a chance. Really, I did – I swear. But her eye makeup is too heavy and her hair was two colors. I’m far from old-fashioned, but if it looks like a slut, and acts like a slut…chances are the girl is a Slut. I promise you’ll agree with me when I’m done with The Vacation Saga.

DAY ONE: Thursday
I have to count Thursday as my first day of Vacation, because that’s when we arrived in Florida. Even though our flight didn’t land in Orlando until close to 9:30p.m., there is a decent story to tell.

First, the plane trip down to Orlando was rather uneventful except for the fact that there were two girls (looked to be around 20 years old) in the row in front of us with surgical masks on. Obviously, they were trying to avoid any possible contact with the dreaded Swine Flu. My mom decided to send them into a panic by fake-coughing and fake-sneezing periodically during our flight which I found HILARIOUS every time she did it. This is what I mean by her having a sense of humor that blindsides me. Just when I see her as My Mother, she does something that I would have done with my friends or something. She even made up a fake dialogue between the girls: “Wow, did you hear those people behind us coughing and sneezing during the whole flight?” “Yeah, I’m sooooooo glad we wore our surgical masks!” It was so funny. Maybe you had to be there.

Auntie Millie was picking us up at the airport because she rented a car. Her, The Greek Goddess and Brittney were staying in Orlando for the whole week, instead of the four days like we were. Please understand that Auntie Millie and my mom have a love-hate relationship. My mother has turned nit-picking into an art form, and Auntie Millie has played a victim since she left her shitty ex-husband. I usually feel sorry for Auntie Millie because she has no education (dropped out of high school) and will never be able to find a good paying job. Don’t get me wrong here -- I know lots of smart people who do not have post-high school education, and I’m not trying to imply that a college education makes you intelligent or you get a better job because of it. I know one does not necessarily correlate with the other. However, in Aunt Millie’s case, it does. She is a horrible speller (when she lived in Greece 20 years ago, she would write my mom letters. Notable misspellings -- the word “busy” was spelled “buzzy”; “pretty” was “prity”. You get the idea.) Auntie also says the dumbest shit sometimes and also isn’t able to connect the dots, so to speak. She’s not retarded or anything – she’s just not that smart. She also makes my cousin the center of her world because she has nothing else. No boyfriend, no money, no hobbies, etc. She just works and plays mom. My mom often reminds Auntie Mille of her lack of education – like stating the reason she can’t find a second job – she’s been looking and has applied online at places like Home Depot -- is that she probably has misspelled words in her online application. Then my mom giggled about it. I guess I’d be pissed at my sister too, if she said stuff like that -- and then giggled -- instead of being supportive. But my mom just not the “supportive” type. Personal flaws are always meant to be pointed out and made fun of…Any-who…

Aunt Millie had taken an earlier flight to Florida, and got to Orlando around noon on Thursday. She had rented a condo for the week – the trip was originally The Greek Goddess’ graduation trip – so she had also gone grocery shopping earlier in the day. When she picked us up from the airport she had a serious attitude. Not only was she “exhausted” from “running around all day”, she was bitchy. She informed us that she had been circling the airport “forever” and that she hadn’t even unpacked yet. I’m sorry, but my flight was on-fucking-time so number one, no one asked you to circle the airport for ½ hour and no one called you to tell you the flight was early. And number two, it’s not my problem you are such a piss-poor time manager that it apparently takes you 12 hours to run to the grocery store (which was on the same property as the condo and was literally a 5-minute drive from the condo). I mean, seriously? You haven’t unpacked yet and you’ve been in Orlando for 10 hours? She said she hadn’t even been down to the pool yet! I have no clue what she did all day long besides go to the grocery store, because when my mother asked her – she just got all in a flutter and couldn’t answer because she was too busy saying how tired she was. She acted like picking us up at the airport was a MAJOR inconvenience. I was PISSED.

After having to endure the 30 minute drive from the airport to the condo, and hear Auntie Millie repeat how tired she was about 40 times, we arrived at the condo. The Greek Goddess and Brittney were watching Grey’s Anatomy. Neither of them got up to greet us or say “hello” or anything – not even to say hi to my kid. It was at this point where I remember it was The Greek Goddess’ birthday and neither my mom nor I had brought her a present. Whoops! In order to avoid any further awkwardness, after all, no one was getting up, I ran into our room, unpacked, took an Ambien and went to bed. My mother, Daughter and I were going to Disneyworld the next day and we all needed to get to sleep. Auntie Millie was dropping us off in the morning at The Polynesian so we could take the Disney Monorail to the Park instead of having to deal with Park traffic. Oh, boy. Auntie should be thrilled with having to get up early and also having to pick us up….I hope she has time in the 16 hours we would be gone to go sit by the pool for five minutes!

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

You Gotta Love My Mother

I have a job interview this week...and depending on whether I get the job or not, details could possibly be forthcoming here on my blog.

This weekend, I went to a play at a church with my mother and my aunt. Prior to the play, we all had lunch together. It was nice because it was relatively low-key and it's a rare occassion when you get my mom and my aunt and me together without Daughter. :)

So on the way to the play, we get on the subject of my interview this week. My mother asks me if I was planning to straighten my hair. At first, I'm puzzled, because it is such a RANDOM question...like, where did that come from. I reply that no, I wasn't planning on straightening my hair. I mean seriously, I can't remember the last time I did it. And I think I almost did a "What's up with that?" kind of question to my mom, just because it was such a random thing to ask me.

Then I ask her why she wanted to know. This is where I made my fatal mistake, because really, I didn't care why she asked, and I really didn't care why she thought I needed to straighten my hair.

She said it was because when I wear my hair curly (remember, in it's natural state) I look like, and I quote, "I don't care" and that it's just "so messy" and I should really try harder to look more "polished."

And then she wonders why I don't call her all the time.

I had to ask.

New Job, Same Shitty Attitude

I started my new job yesterday. Not that I was looking forward to it, because a) I got used to staying at home and b) I got used to not having to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. BUT, I tried to keep a positive attitude yesterday as I embarked on a new chapter in my life.

Of course, I was already grumbling at 5:30am when my alarm went off. The grumbling continued when I had to drop Daughter off at school at 6:30am because I felt bad for her (even though she was all excited to go to school so early and play with the kids at latchkey -- I was projecting my feelings on to her.) The grumbling continued throughout the day, when I found out I was going to be massively micro-managed at this job -- I have to punch a timeclock, don't dare be one minute late EVER, don't ever think about taking time off, don't ever call in sick, just don't ever do anything. I kept thinking to myself that I am 37 years old, and I am too old for this shit. And my temper got all flared up over this -- even though I pretty much kept it to myself.

To top it off, the training is so boring I want to slit my wrists and bleed out on the bathroom floor. The trainer, while I am sure is a perfectly nice woman, couldn't be less enthusiastic about the material or getting us trained. Then -- the material itself. I spent all of yesterday in a constant state of "What the Fuck?" because we basically were reviewing engineering specs for automotive parts all freaking day. I kept thinking this is why I wasn't an engineer. I barely understood anything.

I'll describe the job -- I will be a "search and retrieval specialist" -- when someone sues GM, after being in a car accident, we receive a letter from the attorneys, who are in pre-discovery mode. They are requesting all kinds of documents such as drawings of the parts of the car that were involved in the accident (ex: air bag, rooftop (for rollover accidents), wheel axels, etc.) and then all associated parts and also all information on other vehicles that were made on the same automotive platform. They also request test reports and other documents I haven't even figured out. I hate it.

Which is why I am awake at 5:00 am updating my blog with a pounding headache. I couldn't sleep all night and am worried about this job. Already.

On the bright side -- which despite me having the same shitty attitude, I really do try and find the silver lining because it's the only thing that keeps me going....they eliminated the afternoon shift and I will be able to hold daytime hours like a normal working grunt. Bright side = seeing and spending time with my family and also still being able to do my Pure Romance parties. Of course, part of me was still bitching about the bright side, because I had accepted the fact I would be working afternoons and was in that mindset.

I will never, ever be happy. I was complaining to my mother yesterday and she was so happy she about shit herself. She was happy regarding the material I will be researching and she was happy that they moved the job to the day shift. I was irritated because she was not being supportive of me in my complaints. I should be used to it by now.

My alarm just went off...guess I need to try and adjust my attitude and keep an open mind for today. As a sidenote -- my alarm is a iHome and my iPod just went off as I mentioned...the song playing is Miley Cyrus' "I Can't Wait to See You Again". This is notworthy for two reasons. 1) I didn't download this song to my iPod because I haven't downloaded songs in a very long time...which brings me to interesting point #2 -- if I didn't do it, it means Husband did. Who knew he was such a Miley fan???? I'm dying, y'all. Of course, if I were to call him out on it, he'd say he downloaded it on "accident". His secret is safe with me....oh, and all of you now too! :)

Depression=NO BLOG POSTS

Hey. So I haven't been updating my blog lately, as you may have noticed, namely because I really haven't felt like it. Like there was nothing that warranted the energy it would have taken to update and post comments. Which I attribute to a mild form of depression -- partly due to not having a job, not having any prospects and worrying about finding a job. There are many other reasons for my depression -- reasons that are as old as I am, or reasons that go WAAAAY back, but the job thing was the most recent thing to send me into a tailspin, so let's put like 75% of the blame for no blog updates on that.

Well...the impossible has happened. I found a job. Training for it starts on the 13th, and lasts 2-3 weeks. Then the job goes to the afternoon shift, which is from 3:30-12midnight. Anyone who knows me knows I am NOT a morning person. So starting work at 3:30 is mildly appealing. The only downside is that I won't see my kid, and that kinda bums me out. Because I spent 4 years in law school in night classes not seeing my kid. The way I figure, I've probably only really seen about 2 years worth of her life -- the other 3.75 years I've spent away from her for some reason. Nice parenting. OK, I shouldn't beat myself up too bad about it, because parents everwhere make sacrifices which include working afternoons. So I won't dwell -- just trying to give you a taste of the mindset I'm in over this job-thing. I'm torn.

The job itself doesn't sound TOO bad -- it has something or other to do with researching things (those things are to be determined at a later date...and determined, I'm assuming, by the lawsuit that gets filed) -- so I will be doing research for things for lawsuits that get filed against GM and putting my research in a file for the GM attorneys. It's rather vague (if you haven't picked up on that already) -- but at least it's in the legal profession, and at least it is a paying job. It being so vague is why I am assuming the training period is so long. I mean, 2-3 weeks? I can't wait to see what secrets will be bestowed upon me....

In other news...most of you know that I became a Pure Romance consultant. Which is really very fun and I enjoy it 100% of the time. My first party was hostessed (is that a word? Is now.) by my friend Jody, and due to unforseen circumstances, we couldn't hold the party at her apartment, so instead we moved it to my parent's house. Now, I haven't written much about my family, other than to compare them to the Munsters. I swear, one of these days, I will devote a post to them and only them, and it will be a feast for your eyes. But until that day...here's a little bit of what my mom is like: the day after the Pure Romance party, I am talking on the phone with my mom. I can only talk to her for about 6 minutes at any one time, because it's about at the 6-minute mark, where my mom will say something that will send me from 0 to 60 in under 2 seconds. The day after my party, my mother mentions to me that I should really "tailor" my parties to my audience. Why she thought I would be able to do this, especially when I start doing parties for total strangers, I have no idea. So I ask her what she means. She replies that some of those "things" that I demonstrated (namely the toys) were "REEEALY DISGUSTING" and that I shouldn't be showing them. Um...I don't know about you, but I always thought that one of the big draws to a Pure Romance party was the toys? Call me crazy, but I don't think the promise of massage lotions and body sprays are the biggest appeal of the parties. So while I am explaining to her, that one of the things that girls look forward to are the toys, and when they come to the party, they kind of know what to expect -- because I know if I was invited to a Pure Romance party and didn't know what it was, the person inviting me would TELL ME, right? I can hear my mom himming and hawing on the other end, and it is at that point, where I tell her I have to go. NOW. Before I reach through the phone and smack her one upside the head.

She gets under my skin. Like no one else can. Of course, I have been mulling around the idea of getting her one of the dual-action vibrators for Christmas. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see her face when she opened it. Because she needs one more than anyone I know. For Reals.