In my world it's Friday

"What's for dinner?"

"It's so cute that you think I'm going to cook today."

"Huh?"

"Here's how it works, this is a three day week and a four day weekend. So Monday when we woke up, it was like it was Wednesday, then Tuesday was like Thursday. You see where we're going with this?"

"I'm guessing you think it's Friday today and you don't cook on Friday's, ever. I'm calling for pizza?"

"There you go. In my world it's Friday."

I opened the refrigerator, "See that big turkey thawing in there? I'm spending the entire day with it tomorrow. I have to get up early and shove stuffing up it's ass, get it in the oven and make the rest of the Thanksgiving fixin's. There will be drinking and swearing by late afternoon. I won't know what day it is tomorrow."

"I'm going to call for pizza now."

"You know I think that would be best."

_________________________________________

Some bloggers have been posting lists on what they are thankful for. I can't sit and look at a blank piece of paper and come up with list just like that, after all right now I think it's Friday. So I wrote a few things down during the day:

1. My Family - If I don't put them on the list they will bitch and moan, so I'm getting them out of the way first.

2. Mocha - That delicious hot liquid I drink every morning. I've been adding caramel to it.

3. Ready made pie crust.

4. I'm not traveling. I don't have to make the choice of being felt up by a stranger wearing blue rubber gloves or be scanned and end up on an internet porn site.

5. A four day weekend. Someone please let me know when it's Sunday so I remember to go to work Monday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wonder dog is allergic to bees

Over a year ago I wrote a post titled Buckeye's First Kill. A short little post about my delusional children thinking my dog was a cold blooded killer. With only circumstantial evidence, I pronounced her Not Guilty. I can do that because I'm the mom and I run the whole show around here.

Last month when the squirrel incident occurred, I started to wonder if I should have examined the mouse evidence a little closer. Clearly she killed the squirrel, I was the primary witness.

Over the three years that we've had her I've seen her chase moths, flies and bees. Right after the squirrel kill she was sitting in between the husband and I on our recliner couch. The whole damn couch reclines you could fit five people on it, the most comfortable couch we've ever had, we never leave it and the dog is right there with us snuggled up in front of the fireplace and TV. So we are all three sitting there, but the dog is alert and her ears are up. We are expecting the barking to start next and then a run to the window, but instead she snaps a fly out of mid air.

"Did you see that?"

"Did she get it?"

At that moment she spit it out, sniffed it, toyed with it and ate it.

We were too dumb struck to stop her.

"She's wonder dog."

"Did you see that?"

Clearly she's been practicing her attack skills when we are at work. I never really thought she ever caught the flies and bees, but obviously she now has the taste for blood.

On the rare occasion that the husband takes a day off of work he schedules car stuff, home improvement stuff and on this week, the week after the squirrel incident he scheduled dog stuff. An appointment for her check up and manicure. I came home for lunch before they left, she was outside playing or having a snack because I saw her chasing something that was flying. Please don't drag in a dead animal until after I have my lunch baby.

"Did you feed her? Because she's eating bugs."

"Huh?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Your dog is chasing bugs."

"She's fine."

We ate and I got ready to go back to work.

"I'll bring the dog in."

I looked towards the door and she was sitting on the steps shaking, "The hell?"

"What?"

I brought her in and gave her a biscuit, it dropped out of her mouth. Okay somethings wrong. She a biscuit whore, sometimes I think she just asks to go out to get a biscuit. And when I say ask, I mean stare at me, a real in depth stare, right into my very soul she stares. It's a 'I have to pee stare.' And then sometimes I don't think she even goes down the steps.

But anyway, she drops the biscuit and I see foam in her mouth.

"Babe, look at her?"

"I guess we're going to the vet a little earlier than expected, go back to work, she'll be fine, I'll call you."

"But............."

"I got this."

Back at work I fretted. He'll forget to call me. I should have called in sick. He can't even remember the years the boys were born and I entrusted the dog into his care. Damn.

Then my cell phone rang, "Wonder dog is allergic to bees."

"Huh?"

"The doctor thinks there is a bee sting on her tongue, gave her a shot of Benadryl and steroids. Pick up some Benadryl on your way home."

See, he's clueless, a mom always has Benadryl in the medicine chest. Of course the stuff at home was generic, so I was going to stop for the real stuff, keep the generic for the kids.

So the mouse and squirrel hunter, venus fly trap is allergic to bees. How the hell am I suppose to know if she gets stung? Do I have to carry an epi stick with me now?

My Nemesis, The Roundabout

A roundabout is a type of circular junction in which road traffic must travel in one direction around a central island. Signs usually direct traffic entering the circle to slow down and give the right of way to drivers already in the circle. Duh!

Must I continue to mingle with the stupid? Last year my community decided we had to have a roundabout traffic circle. A four way stop wasn't good enough for them. So they thought it would be great to confuse the hell out of, what's proving to be, more than half the community. Who knew I was one of the smart ones. I can get through that thing just fine, can't do it without swearing, but I'm confident in my navigation skills when it comes to roundabout traffic circles. It's really is quite simple.

You do not have to put your turn signal on, you are only going one way, right.

Please don't stop in the circle, the car coming towards you is doing something we call yielding. You have a drivers license, you know what yielding is, right?

Please do not stop in the circle, I can not stress this enough. The people behind you are going to become agitated, we will swear at you like a drunken sailor.

If you see no one, you don't have to stop, because there is no stop sign. Put on your big girl panties and don't hesitate. You must never hesitate.

We're moving now aren't we?

There is a sign that will say "Roundabout Ahead" and it has a diagram of a circle. See how they do that? They warn you of a traffic challenge, giving you ample time to mentally prepare. So now you can tell the person on the phone to 'hold on you have to focus'. You can't just phone in a roundabout, you'll need to activate several brain cells.

But the best advice I can give you is just avoid roundabouts, you are pissing a lot of people off.

What are the tortilla chips doing in the freezer?

All week I've been trying to pinpoint the exact moment I lost the majority of my brain cells. Because I found an open bag of tortilla chips in the freezer and I know I did it and couldn't think fast enough to blame it on someone else. I just stood there with the bag in my hand dumbfounded. I don't remember doing it, I stared at the frozen bag trying to jog my memory. I remember eating them and they were sealed tight, that's a big clue I have going against me, because I'm the only one in the house that understands the "things get stale" philosophy.

"Who put these in the....................oh."

I could see their minds churning, should we say something or just start looking for Nursing Homes that specialize in dementia?

When you think of it, they're the ones, Boy#1, Boy#2 and Boy#3, that are the reason I'm in the state I'm in now and they're the ones that will probably put me away. Funny how that works, isn't it?

We keep the chips and pretzels on top of the refrigerator, it's a stretch but the tortilla chips could have fallen off the top, made a U-turn and landed on the shelf of the freezer, maybe. I wonder if they have Internet hook up in the Nursing Homes.

No, I'm not superstitious

It's just that my last post was number 666. And I don't want it to stay there for Halloween. And it's about time I posted this song again, because it's a classic.

Happy Halloween!

I had to put a lower quality video, the other one became unavailable. Thanks for letting me know Relax Max!

Before the Benadryl kicks in

Wouldn't it be great if I could stop sneezing right....................................now? Apparently not going to happen yet. This will give me time to squeeze one more post out about the awesome responsibility of Jury Duty. Where did we leave off? Oh yes, "I'm above all this lady" had assembled the angry mob and they were deciding who to sacrifice to the convicts out in the hall.

I was mulling over the remaining people stranded in the Jury Assembly Room. Most of the men were gray hairs. And most of the women seemed to be close to my age, young. Our bailiff finally came to get us, I was about to leave the safety of the Jury Assembly Room, I was about to be thrown out amongst the criminals and lawyers. Why don't we just say criminals, right?

Reluctantly I gathered my belongings, along with everyone else, wondering if I will ever see the light of day again. Our bailiff pointed to some stairs and asked if anyone would rather take the elevator. There was a pregnant woman that got on, some of the gray hairs and a fat lady. The last man to wander out of the Jury Assembly Room sanctuary was probably the oldest person in our group. Several people asked him if he wanted to get on the elevator, no response.

"Sir? Do you want to ride the elevator instead of taking the stairs?" Still no response. That thing behind his ear was a hearing aid, I know it was. "Sir, DO YOU WANT TO RIDE IN THE EL-E-VA-TOR?"

Everyone was looking at him by now. We were inching our way towards a scene. We are going to spiral out of control. Get on the elevator. Get on the elevator. Get on the elevator. I was willing him through mental telepathy to bring this drama to it's end before we law abiding citizens got caught up in a jail breaking, hostage negotiating nightmare. Stop drawing attention to us, we're sitting ducks out here. Get on the elevator. Get on the elevator.

" Elevator? Nah, I don't need an elevator." At that moment I felt like calling him dad. Anyone that knows my dad would agree. Stubborn.

If the rest of this post seems incoherent it's because the Benadryl is starting to kick in. I tried to get it done, but the sneezing.

Up one flight of stairs we went, slightly deaf old man and all. We hooked up with the elevator people and separated again. Another elevator, another flight of stairs. Once we were all back together we were marched right into a court room. This is when I realized there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The bastards settled. The judge and lawyers were in the court room. The bailiff asked us to take a seat. Yes, yes I'll take a seat, it's time to take my 800 hundred milligram Motrin. I didn't want to be seen popping any pills so I refrained. This was proving to be a bad decision as I'm sure my uterus was about to fall out. We sat down and I, out of the corner of my mouth, said to the guy next to me, "They settled, we are so out of here." He nodded in agreeance and winked at me. I notice when I leaned over to talk to him a woman had just crossed her leg and that leg belonged to "I'm above all this lady". Dear God she's right behind me. She can smell my fear, I know it. Please won't they just let me go home?

The judge started to tell us why we had waited so long in the Jury Assembly Room was that the lawyers, clients and he were trying to reach an agreement so they didn't have to go to trial. Which they did, but we were still a big part of the process, yada, yada, yada. And the lawyers went on to tell us about the case we were missing. Ahhhh, jury of your peers, I'm spending the day with a bunch of geezers because a WWII vet fell in a poorly marked parking lot.

"Any questions?" The judge asked. Several hands went up.

Huh? Don't they know we can go now?

One after the other, these people tried to express their intelligence with seemingly intelligent questions. One by one they engaged the lawyers and judge in convesation. We were again starting to spiral out of control. I just got this group under control in my head and now they were trying to one up each other. A pause hit the room, is this the end, are we done? I sensed movement behind me, I tensed up, shut my eyes and prayed. The "I'm above all this lady" raised her hand. Oh no.

"Yes maam?"

She started to speak, "Does this mean we can go home now?"

A chorus of laughter ensued.

"Yes, you can go home now."

She saved us all.

Meanwhile back in the Jury Assembly Room holding tank

As I mentioned in my last post my name wasn't called in the first group of prospective jurors and either was the woman I fondly referred to in my head as "I'm above all this" lady. She sat in one corner of the room and was starting to assemble a group of women and I was sure she was convincing them they were above it all too, better than the rest of us.

After the first group left, I'll call it thinning the herd, we were able to study each other more intently. Don't think I didn't notice one old guy switched his seat making himself closer to me. There were several old guys in there with us women.

Hmmmm.... jury of your peers.

In the middle of the room there were two teachers grading papers, they had red pens, that's how they were picked out and they started up a teaching conversation pulling in a few more people into their little group. Although I was writing, my pen was black therefore was not mistaken as a teacher grading papers. I still continued to keep to myself, I was in an anti-social mood, for two reasons really:

1. I didn't want to be there and

B. I had cramps that would have Attila the Hun on the ground in the fetal position begging for a quick merciful death.

I'm so done with this uterus, it's taken on a life of it's own. It's event driven, holidays, vacations, jury duty, it will attack, even if it has to be early or late. It hates me.

So I kept writing or reading, avoiding eye contact with the old guys, teachers and the scary group of women gathering in the corner.

"I'm above all this" lady started to remind me of the woman in the movie The Mist, Mrs. Carmody. A bible thumping woman that assembled reasonably intelligent people, whipped them up into a frenzy and divided the people stuck in the grocery store with creatures outside trying to kill them. I found myself looking the for the more down to earth group and decided if worse came to worse I'd side with them. I wasn't ready to sacrifice anyone to the convicts out in the hallway and I didn't want to be the one they sacrificed. Now if I could just find someone that looked like Thomas Jane to glom onto. Problem was they took all the young guys in the first jury group. The other side of the room sat a bunch of bored out of their skull, blank eyed people. They just stared into space. I don't think I'd be way off calling them the social rejects. Which was worrisome knowing that the women in the corner could pounce on them at anytime.

The whole Jury Duty process was getting way out of control in my head. Finally a new baliff came out to tell us we would have to wait a little longer. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, doesn't she know what's going on in here? The judge and the lawyers were still discussing the case. In other words trying to settle and not go to trial. Hey guys take your time we're just sitting here trying not to go bat crap crazy.

Jury Duty Part 1, maybe the only part

Okay, I'm officially scared, I just saw convicts. Honest to God, orange striped jumpsuit in handcuffs, convicts. And there's a lot of them, I'm not getting out of here anytime soon. I knew I should have worn my Rush Limbaugh T-shirt.

The convicts were out in the hallway and so are the bathrooms, so I've stopped drinking my water and there will be no coffee for me even if it's free. They give you free tokens and validate your parking.

I parked way to far away, 2 blocks. If it's raining when I leave, I'm screwed. I just drove into a parking garage hoping it was close to the court house. 2 blocks away, I'm an idiot. The 8:30 arrival time is loosely observed. I don't think we are going to start until 9:00. The 8:30 time is for us country bumpkins that can't negotiate the big city. I really, really hope I can find my car if I ever get to leave. The husband called when I first got here, he knows all too well that I could have easily ended up in Pennsylvania. He had to check to see if I made it into the Jury Assembly Room. Being directionally retarded, I've cost him a few gray hairs. But I put full trust in the GPS lady, except for the time she wanted me to drive off a bridge, she has never failed me. I also had my map quest map and we all know that those are never wrong, I was in good hands.

I must look like a geek in this Jury Assembly Room, they probably think I'm taking notes on the video they are showing us. What a group of happy people I'm sitting with. I want to go home.

It's only a matter of time before I start making up names and attaching stories to them. I've already picked out "I'm above all this" lady. She's so much better than the rest of us. I have to pee. The bailiff is now fielding phone calls from the people that haven't shown up. Apparently you can come in the next day if you have a good enough excuse and can fax in a doctors excuse.

Wait, somethings happening.

The first group was called and I'm not in it, either is "I'm above all this" lady. Groups are starting to form and people are starting to talk, I've chosen to observe and keep to myself. This ends part 1 of my Jury Duty experience.

Stay tuned.

Hey HannahJ, I'm going to say retard in another post

I had a half inch by half inch piece of paper burning a hole in my pocket all morning. This little microscopic piece of paper said I could receive a free medium french fry. How awesome is that? I received this golden ticket on my McDonald's large Mocha with whole milk this morning when I stopped at the drive-thru for my Friday Egg McMuffin. I sat at my desk going through my emails, eating my Egg McMuffin, not interrupted by the phone and that's a sign of a good day, drinking my mocha wondering how can it get any better than this. That's when I found 2 little stickers on my paper cup with a lid. "What do we have here?"

I'm not oblivious to the world around me, but I have to admit I'm clueless in the McDonald's Monopoly Game world. I've just chosen not to participate in the past. But when I peeled off that winning french fry ticket I decided to throw myself into the game. I have a game board now.

I watched the clock all day waiting to cash in my winnings and get more pieces to my new obsession. Lunch time came, I had to go to the bank first. There are obstacles in life, we all have them. They teach us patience, compassion, all sorts of lessons on our journey through life. It's what make us stronger, obstacles in life are thrown into our paths to test us, teach us, ground us in reality, help us grow into a descent human being if we chose to learn from them. My obstacle on my way to my free french fries was a moron who couldn't work the ATM machine.

How retarded to you have to be to leave your card in the ATM when on the screen it says. "Do you wish to make another transaction?" Your options are yes or no. Not, drive away from the machine without your card or receipt. I got up to the ATM and could have withdrawn my weekend craft show money from her account. But instead I thought real hard and then pushed the button that said NO. I'm so damn smart sometimes. I put Einstein's card on the ledge and use my own card to withdraw my money. I followed the instructions and Eureka, my card spit back out at me. I grabbed the other card and made an unscheduled stop in the bank. As soon as I opened the door three tellers and one morons heads snapped around. "Do you have my card?"

"Yes." Idiot.

I handed it over and walked out. I said nothing for fear I wouldn't pass my "life's little obstacle test". Plus I had free french fries waiting for me.

What side is my heart suppose to be on?

My heart can't take another Monday like the one I had this past week, Friday can't get here fast enough.

First I'd like to blame the government, they presented me with a jury duty summons. On my way to work after picking up my precious liquid that is mocha, I thought of my jury duty and then thought, "No!, Is it this week? Oh my God, am I suppose to be convicting felons today? Am I a felon now?" And then my heart slowly descended out of my throat as I realized that it's next week. Can I just ask one thing? Instead of drawing from a pool of registered voters, why not draw from the pool of unemployed, living off the backs of the working people, people? Why take me away from my job when there are people unemployed at home watching Oprah?

The next group of people to blame for my almost heart attack would be men. Just going to generalize on this one. I'm lumping you all in with the guy that shook me down deep into my very soul. The guy that thought it was funny to call me at work and pretend to be the police asking for me and inquiring about my car that was involved in an accident. He had no way of knowing my kids had just lost a friend in a car accident this past weekend, but how is that funny anyway? I sat at work thinking of this kids family, looking at the clock and realizing the funeral is starting in 5 minutes, a mom and dad and a brother were going to be saying goodbye to that 19 year old boy and I get a call from the comedian. I lost it at work and retreated to the ladies room for 10 minutes, letting the damn phone ring, hoping someone was answering it. Is lumping you all in with this guy fair, probably not, sorry.

And number 3 heart stopping group, the police. Ha. Maybe just their cars with those damn sirens. When you are innocently driving back to your "going nowhere" job, they pull out of a parking lot and put their sirens on, that makes your heart sink. Fortunately it wasn't me he was after.

So Monday my heart ending up in my throat, my stomach and broke into a thousand pieces. That can't be good. I'm not even sure it's worked it's way back to the right place in my chest. I pretty much gave up on keeping my brain intact but now I have to worry if my heart is secure in there.

I think she's full of remorse

Just look at that face. Is that the face of a killer? I think not. Buckeye just hasn't been the same since The Incident. I had her outside with me for the afternoon while I did, effing yard work. I really hate raking leaves, they're not done falling and I'll be out there again, it's an endless chore, done year after year. But the rest of the neighbors were doing it so I thought I'd better put forth the effort. Trust me, I didn't over do it, but my back still hurts. I need a nap and vodka.


I thought it would be a good idea to put on Buckeye's peace and love bandanna while we were out. It's kind of her hippy one, with peace signs and hearts. Just in case any other squirrels were out there watching her. They have to know one of their own is gone but I'm certain they don't suspect her. It all happened so fast and most of the violence was behind the bushes, in the front yard. All the squirrels hang out in our back yard. I wanted her to look harmless, I'm looking out for her reputation. I don't want her to have a bad rep in the neighborhood. And I have to say she played her part well. Sniffed around, dug a few holes and lounged around like the queen of the neighborhood. I think we can safely say the "Incident" is behind us.

I don't think she meant to kill it

Almost everyday my stomach starts to grumble around noon. That's when I start to watch the clock, my lunch is at 1:00. I planned it that way, when I get back at 2:00 the rest of the day goes by fast. It's a good plan. Most days I go home because fast food everyday doesn't appeal to me and I let the dog out. Today I also wanted to check on a sick Boy #2 and bring him some Ginger Ale because he puked all night. Please God don't let me catch the stomach flu, please, please, please.
Now that it's cold out again my flip flops have been exchanged for my cool boots. I had my CFM boots on today. Please don't ask, figure out what each letter stands for, I try to maintain a PG-13 blog.
So not being use to high heels I just need the dog to go out, pee and come right back in.
I'm so sorry Relax Max for mentioning pee in yet another post.
She should pee right away because it's raining and she's a sissy, hates the rain and will only go out in it if she really has to go bad.
"Keep an eye on her." I tell Boy #2. "Let me know if she goes, I have to get lunch."
30 seconds later, "Mom, it looks like she has something."
"What do you mean has something?"
"She's behind the bushes and I heard a weird noise."
Now I have to go out in the rain, this will screw up my hair.
"Oh my God, oh my God, she has a squirrel. What do I do? Oh my God."
Do you get the gist of me panicking?
First I see the unmistakable big squirrel tail, then the dog comes out of the bushes with the entire squirrel. And I'm out there with my high heels trying to grab the dog without getting touched by the flailing squirrel. The squirrel was panicking too, for good reason, it was in the jaws of my killer dog that's afraid of rain.
"Buckeye, let go, let go, oh my God. Come here, come, Buckeye!" The panicking continued. There was a lot of swearing. Where the hell is Boy #2? Where is he?
The dog released the squirrel and I grab her collar, dragged her in the house and Boy #2 was sitting on the steps. "Check her for any scratches."
I looked outside and the squirrel lay there twitching. More swearing. "Damn, look at it."
"She killed it.....almost."
"This is a crisis now."
"You should have seen how funny you looked on the steps trying to get her."
"I hope you throw up again."

I called the husband to fill him in on the crisis, he didn't seem to grasp the trauma I just went through.
"You know, you're going to have to come home from work and take this squirrel to the vet and they're going to have to fly in tiny instruments from El Paso and it will be a costly and difficult procedure. Once he's discharged you'll have to make sure he gets his medicine six times a day and keep his tail elevated."

You have to be a member of the Seinfeld cult to get that last line. I tried to find a YouTube clip but couldn't. Here's the script.

It's not hard to figure out they're up to something

Either everyone on my parents street is having an underground bunker dug in their yards or they are having the decrepit water pipes replaced or they are having underground bunkers dug and using the water pipes as cover. This of course was going through my head as I waited to be waved by, by the driver of the giant earth moving truck.
"Ah, I can go now? Can he even see me? Great, I'll just weave through these orange barrels, through the mud and over this bump and pull into what is now being called my parents driveway."
Did I mention my parents are in their 70's? No? Let me go tell this guy.
"Hello."
"Hi."
"Can you tell me at any given moment while you are working here or have these vehicles parked for the night that an emergency vehicle will not be hindered in any possible way, at all, never ever?"
"Oh, yes ma'am." He ma'amed me, the son of bitch. "We take that into consideration, have had it happen before too, not a problem."
"Thank you. I have to go now before my dad sees me, don't tell him about my inquiry or he'll be mad at me, thank you."
"Yes ma'am." Again?

Two birds, one stone. Mom and dad can be whisked away to the emergency room in a timely, efficient manner. And they are totally building underground bunkers. I want one. Or I need to secure a place in mom and dads before Erv does.

Do underground bunkers come supplied with canned goods, guns and ammo or is that something you have to take care of yourself? I need to do some underground bunker research this weekend. I need to be ready for impending doom.

Mom walked me out to my car after my visit because I told dad that mom and I had a bit of girl talk to take care of, which we did, I don't lie to my parents, they've known me too long. After we talked we surveyed the mess on their street. "What will you do on Halloween night? You'll loose half the little trick-or-treaters in the holes, won't find them until morning." She laughed. Then I told her about the conversation I had with the underground bunker digger.
"You know I was worried about an ambulance being able to get through here."
"Well you don't have to worry anymore, I took care of it. Those guys are scared of me now."

Start digging Erv, I've secured my spot.

There are things out there, things

Me and my vivid imagination had absolutely no where to be Sunday morning, so we decided to sleep late. The husband, me and the dog slept the morning away, drifting in and out of sleep. We would mumble about coffee, try to get the dog to start the coffee machine. Apparently this was to difficult for her and she lay at the foot of the bed like a slug. Opposable thumbs came up - again and quite frankly, I'm getting tired of that excuse. The coffee is all made, you just have to push the on button, she could do it if she wanted to.

I listened to the birds chirp, would fall back to sleep. I'd be rattled awake by the thump on the roof.

"The hell?" And then I would hear a thwap, thwap, thwap of something with a giant wing span flying away. It happened 3 or 4 times. I just can't win, I either have ducks and geese or creatures from a scientific experiment gone wrong, like in The Mist, landing on my roof to terrorize my neighborhood. Now seriously, I'm leaning towards the ducks and geese because it's morning and everyone knows horrific, scientific creatures come out at night. But what if the creatures got an early start? Shouldn't I shower? I'd hate to be chased out of my neighborhood in my nightgown and bedhead. I'm too tired to run screaming through the streets. I drifted off again.

Half an hour later, I glanced at the dog, she hadn't moved a muscle. It must have been the husband that woke me because he was gone. I hope he starts the coffee. I hope he wasn't dragged out the window by scary, horrific, scientific creatures. There appeared to be no signs of struggle, I'm sure he's fine. My vivid imagination and I went back to sleep.

GloBalls

Nothing snaps you back into the land of the living faster than spotting a box of GloBalls. Holy Crap. Six individually wrapped coconut and marshmallow covered chocolate cakes with creamy filling. GloBalls.

With a team of doctors working 'round the clock to fix my hormones, I try to go about my weekend without passing out. Wheeling my shopping cart up and down each aisle at the WalMarts, I know I'll get home forgetting more than I remembered. Like for instance bread, yes I forgot bread. It's a simple item, one that you pick up without even thinking each week. But if it's in the same aisle as a box of GloBalls and your brain cells are under the influence of pain medication.................... bread? What is bread? For $2.50 I can own a box of these delicious green coconut GloBalls. I'm so going to the hostess cakes website because now I have to have a Justice League green ring. Who is that green super hero? On the back of the box there is Superman, Batman, a red guy and a green guy. I think the red guy is The Flash. When did this Justice League form, I have no memory of them, then again I can't remember bread............

I just have to pee

On the road again for the second time this week, the husband and I took off for a 2 hour drive. Now I have a 24 ounce mocha, you know I'm not going to make it 2 hours without having to stop. About an hour in I had to pee like a race horse, but we're have and in depth conversation about cell phones and landlines, the pro's and cons, so I don't say anything. I know he'll have to go soon, his bladder has weakened over the years.

"We're going to have to stop pretty soon."

See.

"I could go." Doh!

We stopped at an upper echelon rest stop, one of those that has everything you could possibly need. A one stop shop. I'm somewhat of an expert at finding restrooms and I see them immediately. The husband is still searching, his eyes darting back and forth, up and down. Either he hasn't spotted the restrooms or he's in awe of the place. "Babe, over there, in the back, see them?" His eyes drifted away from the spinning Slurpee machines. "Oh there they are."

Women to the left and men to the right, also conveniently located in the middle, are 2 "family" doors. Where the hell were those when I was traveling with children? The husband went to the right and I turned left, right into a temporarily closed sign. I peeked around the corner and saw a man cleaning the women's restroom. I could pee in the family restroom if only the door wasn't locked. I side stepped dangerously over the the men's side. Thought about taking a peek around that corner but decided against it. I'll never understand how a bunch of guys could just line up along a wall of stalls, whip it out and pee without batting an eye. Total strangers whizzing away next to each other. Erv once peed next to Cleveland Indian, Grady Sizemore, not many people can say that, Erv can.

Alright one family restroom is the same as the other, doesn't matter if it's near the men's or women's side right? So I turned the knob, hah it's open, it's just too bad there's a man peeing in it.

"What the........? Eff! Are you kidding me. Damn it!" I actually put my hand up to my eyes.

I side stepped back over to my girl side. Please, please come out whoever is in there. Please before this guy comes out of the boy side family restroom. I sent the person behind the locked door very strong mental distress messages............ open, open, open the door and she came out. I quickly ducked into the sanctuary that is the family restroom, with my back against the door, I took a deep breath and then another. Then, get this, I LOCKED the door, because seriously, besides the guy next to me, who in the name of Zeus's butt hole, doesn't lock a public restroom door?

Who peed in grandma's toilet?

"Did you hear that?"

"Like a beeping?"

"Yeah."

"Probably Boy #3 and his video games."

And girlfriend #2 and I continued to watch the season premier of Survivor Nicaragua. Survivor is one of my favorite shows, don't judge me. I seemed to have hooked girlfriend #2 and she's happy to go along the Survivor ride with me.

"I hear it again."

"Yeah, where's the husbands phone? He always leaves it in the living room."

He has a new phone with a stupid ring-tone, it just kind of beeps.

"I'm going to have to pause the season premier. Damn."

I found the phone in our bedroom and I had no idea how to use it, can't check to see if there's a missed call. Damn. The husband and Boy #2 are in the middle of home improvement downstairs, if I go down there, I might never come back up. They'll ask me to hold something for a minute and hours will go by before I get released. But a missed phone call might be from work. Damn.

I went down there. The husband had a blow torch in his hand and some silver stuff in the other. He put the silver stuff down and I dodged out of the way of the blow torch. Boy #2 is lucky to still be alive down here. The husband checked his phone and said, "It was mom, here call her back, it's ringing." I ducked out of the way of the blow torch and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mom it's Sue."

"Hi, was my son over here today?"

"Huh? Did you stop at your mom's today?"

"No." Torch answered.

"No mom he wasn't there."

"Oh, then it was Boy #2 and girlfriend #2."

I turned my attention to Boy #2, he turned around and I was happy to see he still had both his eyebrows. "Did you go to Grandma's today?"

"No."

"No mom, nobody here was over."

"Well then who put my toilet seat up?"

Uhhhhhhhh..............................

"I never put it up, somebody had to. Somebody was here."

It appears there is a toilet seat mystery over at my sister-in-laws and it was carrying over 7 miles away to our house. We need to solve this pronto, Survivor, Survivor Nicaragua, still on pause. Damn.

I heard a discussion going on in the background and listened intently, well as intently as I could with a blow torch flailing in our laundry room.

With the husband and Boy #2 off the hook the only other possibility was...............the great grandson, the 4 year old. The 4 year peed in grandma's toilet and didn't put the seat down.

"Are you watching that blow torch?"

"Yes, I'm watching the blow torch."

"It's just that you almost torched me twice."

"Go watch your show."

I mentioned on FaceBook last weekend that I would rather stick a fork in my eye than be involved in a home improvement project. That hasn't changed.

10 reasons I'm crabby today

These are not in any order of importance, remember I'm crabby and I shall not put forth the effort.

1. It's Monday.

2. I couldn't get my bra straps in the right spot all day, all day I suffered.

3. I'm 40 something and still treated like a child at work. I get my tedious work done in a timely fashion and don't need to be checked up on. I should have taken school seriously and I wouldn't be in this position, ahhhh to be young and stupid again.

4. My dishwasher is broken.

5. I'm scared Prince Poppycock isn't going to win America's Got Talent. He's made it to the final 4 but I don't think he has a good enough sob story to win over the sappy hearts of the American people. Michael Grimm trots out his aging grandparents every episode. Fighting Gravity gave up a semester of college to follow their dream. The little opera singer is just way to cute and has a voice of an angel, unless she's lip sinking, which I don't think she is but you still have to give her credit for remembering all those Italian words. I'm scared for you Prince Poppycock, I suggest you do some crying after your last performance.

6. I watch America's Got Talent.

7. I found out today that the polar bears in Alaska do not float around on icebergs drinking Coca-Cola. Can you believe we've been dooped all this time? Speaking of dooped how about that Global Warming, huh? Nissan you have got to be kidding me.

8. I broke my ankle bracelet this morning, two minutes before I had to leave for work. I will be finding teeny weeny little beads for all eternity.

9. I have to go to work again, tomorrow.

10. Did I mention it's Monday?

In case I've dragged your spirits down, here is a very funny video from America's Got Talent this year:

Shopping with mother and the two areas I must avoid to maintain my sanity

There are two places in the mall that I must never, under any circumstance let my mother trap me for any length of time. One would be the perfume aisles. I was born with the wrong nose for fake fragrances therefore become nauseated when surrounded by them. Mother walks down the aisles with her arms stretched out, wrists facing up and actually asks to be sprayed by the ladies armed with spray bottles. When she runs out of space on her arms she grabs mine. This has been going on since I was a child and I know I'm traumatized by it, mother thinks it's funny the way I break out into a cold sweat when we get near the perfume section at Macy's. Just imagine the ride home in the car after all that spraying, just imagine it! I also think my sense of smell has been damaged.
Two, and we will tread here ever so gently, the lingerie section. A source of embarrassment stemming from childhood also. It all started when she thought I needed a bra. All her friends were getting to go bra shopping with their daughters, she didn't want to be left out, problem was I didn't really need a bra until I was 16 or so. But she strapped them on me whether I needed them or not. Throughout the years mother has been in search of the perfect fit for me. It became her obsession. She'd drag me over to the bra racks, ha that's funny, bra rack, bra's for racks, anyway she'd say, "Go try this on. Look how pretty it is."
"Mom."
"Can I help you ladies?" This is when she'd bring in outsiders to help find me the perfect fit.
"Yes, we're trying to find a bra to fit my daughter here." And then they would both look at my boobs or lack there of and nod in agreement. An unspoken look of 'she's flat as a pancake, can we help her?' look would come over both their faces.
Off I went into the changing room to try on an array of bra's. Not being the sharpest knife in the drawer it took me several embarrassing episodes like this to realize that all I had to do was say the first one I tried on felt fine. Then suffer for all eternity with an uncomfortable bra.
Finally I've been able to put the bra situation behind me by carefully avoiding the lingerie department whenever shopping with mother. Saturday we went to the mall. She was in search of a camisole, I wasn't. So mother would meander over to the lingerie department and I would say, "I'll be over here looking at shoes mom." Then I would go collect her when I couldn't find shoes I liked, because I can never find them when I'm looking, looking. At our last stop I found her in the back, as I got closer I saw her rummaging through a pantie bargain bin.
Careful, my inside voice said to myself.
"Mom did you find your camisole?"
"Nope, you can never find one when you're looking for it."
"I hear you, can't find black sandals on the clearance rack."
"Are you ready to go home?" I asked as I started rummaging too.
"Yes, let's go home. Do you need underwear?"
"Yeah, I can never...."

OH

"find a pair........"

MY

"that I really like."

GOD

The words just came out of my mouth, I couldn't stop them, what the hell is wrong with me?

Mother started sifting through the bargain bin like bull in a china shop. "What size? What color? Look at this little bow. Oh this lacy one, the husband will like those!"

Dear God what have I done?

The going to Hell thing and where we all plan to meet up when we get there.

Gah! You think I'd get a better response on the post that probably sealed my fate and has sent me straight to hell. I asked for guesses on the two pictures I took and posted. I was shooting for 10, I got two. My feelings are hurt and almost never posted again. I'm thinking about not even telling you where the pictures are from, so there.

We at work, the core group of "going straight to hell" people have decided to meet up at the beach......in hell when we get there. One of the women at work said there's a beach so we decide that's as good as place as any to meet. You've got to have a plan. We figure there will be no water and the sand will be real hot. You know how it is when you have to run from towel to towel if you don't have your flip flops? In hell there will be no flip flops, no water and we're pretty sure no sun screen. So it's important to work on your base tan. That's what I've been doing all summer, working on my tan and preparing for hell.

Now last week, Thursday, I dragged my ass out of bed at 4:00 am, managed to shower, get dressed, put make up on and dry and curl my hair. I was picked up by Erv, mom and dad and all of them were showered and had nice hair. They have all decided to go with the gray by the way, I continue to fight it. Anyway off we went to the world renowned Cleveland Clinic, dad was having surgery.
Here is a link from the last post I made after one of Dad's surgeries.

This woman in the picture obviously slept through her alarm, looked in the mirror and thought, "These big lime green curlers in my hair are workin' for me today." Left the house and wheeled her father into the surgery maze along with us, we reunited in the locker room, which is where Erv dared me to take the picture. Did it, going to hell, saw her at breakfast too.

My 2 guessers Carol of Confessions of a Reforming Geek and Leeuna of My Mind Wandered are also my best commentors. They were both right on, although Carol was first and Leeuna kind of followed, but let's face it, it was kind of easy. That's why I don't feel bad not giving out a prize or anything. But thanks for playing sorry I have no parting gifts girls.