Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Driving like a soccer mom

Definition of a Soccer mom:  (noun) An American mother living in the suburbs whose time is often spent transporting her children from one athletic activity or event to another.

Yep, that sounds about right.  I am that soccer mom.  Back in the 90's soccer moms drove their mini-vans from one practice to the next like the devil was chasing them.  Times have changed a little as the years have gone by.  Soccer moms no longer drive mini-vans, those have been reserved for hip grandparents who aren't ready to settle down and buy that Buick.  Soccer moms of today drive huge gas guzzling SUV's, yes even those hybrid variations.  Why?  Because they are so way cooler then a minivan and they're huge.  You can seriously mow down a small community of lawn gnomes in one of those things.  And they'll still hold half the soccer team, the dry cleaning, a weeks worth of groceries and the golden retriever.  So they better question is why wouldn't you want one?

Anyway to get back on track:  As I'm doing about 95 down the highway passing compact cars and semi-trucks it hits me, I'm such an awesome driver.  I mean seriously, who else beside a soccer mom can make it across town with two kids who are changing into practice gear, pick up everything for a nice home cooked dinner and get the dog from the groomers in under 10 minutes?  Again, I am so totally awesome.  I should start a driving school for other moms who are needing to learn the skills of a trained soccer mom.

There could be such a variety of different classes

  • Driving 101

          This class would be just beginning basics.  You know how to push that skinny little pedal through the floor board to maximize your speed.  Maybe have some cardboard cutout of children in the middle of the street for those times you need to swerve as you going 60 through a residential area.  And of course that basic parallel park using the emergency brake at high speeds.

  • Multitasking on the freeway

Most men don't realize the skill it takes to drive a car with more then one screaming child in the backseat, while you apply makeup, adjust the volume of the stereo to drown out the kids, and not get caught on your cell phone calling your girlfriends to make sure your on for happy hour because the dog ate your blue tooth again.  This class would help so many women out there who just don't make the best use of their time while driving.

  • 3 kids and 3 practices

An easy class showing beginning moms how to get all of their children and any tag alongs to ballet, soccer and karate at the three different locations with the crazy practice schedule intact. 

Ballet starts at 3pm and ends at 4pm,  Soccer starts at 3pm and ends at 4:30pm and Karate starts at 4:15pm and ends at 4:45pm.  This class would show those new moms how to maximize time and have all the kids at practice not to early and god forbid, they be the last ones picked up.

  • Getting the most use of your SUV's storage space

There is a reason we bought that beautiful 13mpg SUV.  (Contrary to what the neighbors think, it isn't because Karen down the street got one first)  Those things hold so much, if you know how to pack them, and that's without the roof rack.  This class could focus on how you get the kids and all their sports gear in the car, along with your latest purchase from Costco and the fighting issue is not an issue at all, because everyone has enough space and no one is touching the other.

Yep, bet I could make a fortune teaching other moms how to truly be that soccer mom. 

For this family soccer season ended about a month ago, I still have those soccer mom instincts on the highway.  And were getting ready to start indoor soccer in March.  After the holidays there will be more then soccer to worry about.  The boys are going to start music lessons, T-ball, football, Kung-fu (again) and of course soccer season officially starts in the fall.  In all that down time I have while driving, I think I'm gonna start working on a business plan for a soccer mom driving academy, after all, I am a totally awesome driver!(Just ask my insurance agent)

Glitterfy.com - Glitter Graphics

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Working for a living

I know that to some its a novel concept, this whole doing an honest days work for an honest days pay thing.  But is it really that bad?  I mean really?  If you can find a job you enjoy going to everyday, and you don't have to work with a bunch of brown nosing, backstabbing, selfish jerks it can actually be a nice part of the day.  So why, why is it so hard for some people to do this?  Instead they opt to find someone with the financial means to support them and their laziness.  Now I'm not saying lazy is bad sometimes, hell most weekends I live in my sweats and never feel the breeze from outside.  Its those who feel the world owes them and everyday they shouldn't have to do anything.

The world owes you for what?  Your crappy childhood?  The stress of aging parents?  The stress of being a parent?  I'm sorry, but those are the worst excuses I have ever heard!  And just what does the world owe you might I ask?  A new plasma tv, diamonds and rubies, a Hummer, ohh I know an all expense paid trip to Hawaii.  News flash people your not owed any of this.

Sure there are some people who are born into wealth, but somewhere at the beginning someone had that work ethic that earned that pile of cash you are so greedily spending.  And because you were "entitled that cash and the world owed you so much" your not working to keep the pile high, instead your spending it faster than Obama is spending my tax dollars.  Your kids are going to have to pay for your retirement out of their minimum wage.  After all you set such a good example they're not going to get a real job, because money comes from that tree in the back yard.  Hope you like spending your senile years in that crooked home they're always showing on 60 minutes.  You know the one where they feed everyone Alpo for dinner, because they can.

I live in a little tiny house, and I work everyday.  Well I sort of work every day, that is to say I have a job, but somedays I just show up.  Back to my original train of thought.  I live in a little house with my husband and two children.  We have 2 cars that are paid for and my husband also works.  I know what a shock right.  Seriously we can afford a bigger house, newer cars, cable tv and luxury vacations, but then there's no money for me to frivolously spend at Walmart.  Yesterday I received $3000.00 in the mail.  Yep that's right I got 2 checks for $1500.00 and change.  Did I race of to cash them?  Nope!  The money isn't mine and it didn't belong to the person who gave it to me.  It came from a bank account of a crook who was trying to scam me.  I know everyone is thinking, Christmas is only 21 days away, what great timing.  Nope, I don't think so.  God is watching and if I cash those checks I'll be playing chess with Hitler and the person who sent them to me in the afterlife.

Here's the reality

  • If its not yours don't touch it

  • If its not yours don't give it to someone else

  • If you work hard and earn it, it feels so much better

  • Contrary to popular belief there is not get out of hell free card so make smart decisions

I don't want to sound mean or negative (oh who am I kidding, if you know me, you know I'm mean), but really if your too lazy to get off your fat ass and do an honest days work, or at least show up to a job, do you really deserve to share the air I'm breathing.  NO you don't.  You don't deserve anything.  Get off your lazy ass, get a job and earn the right to live here and breath the same air as me.  Earn the right to complain about others and the obstacles life throws at you.  If you can't do something as simple as get a job, do the world a favor and get a shotgun, take your shoe off, and insert your toe in the trigger.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Kids and Jackets

So Sunday afternoon the kids wanted to go play in the backyard, and of course that's fine with me. Finally some peace and quiet. Now I know I don't live in Northern Michigan or Maine or anything, just the armpit of Central California. The temperature was a balmy 40 something degrees so I told both my kids to wear their jackets and keep them on. Now if you have children, have babysat children or observed someone elses children from a distance you know right away that didn't happen. My 5 year old got hot and took off his brandnew jacket and threw it in the dirt. No big deal, last year I spent alot of the husbands money on a kickass washer and dryer, I know the jacket can be washed. Infact I was shocked the jacket lasted as long as it did, but I wasn't expecting to go out back and find my 5 year old running around in a short sleeve shirt with no shoes in 40ish weather. And what was his reason you ask for taking off his shoes? He knows that I get upset when they jump in water puddles with their $45 sketchers, so instead he was jumping in the puddles barefoot.
I did mention that the puddles were created by my 7 year old right. He thought it might be fun to make ponds for their toys to float in.

So here's my new thought with regard to unsupervised children in their own backyard.

Next time I send the boys out back to play I am first sewing the zipper up on the jackets and then sewing the bottom of the jacket to their pants so they can't pull them over their heads. To avoid the shoe problem I'm really not sure what to do. I could go and get them some punk boots, I mean seriously, with all those zippers and buckles they'd never get them off. Of course now that I've said that they probably will, so instead its a pair of cheap-o Walmart shoes wrapped in duct tape up to their knees. Good luck getting those suckers off now, and do I care if they get wet in the puddles? Nope the shoes and duct tape only cost $5 (I got them at Walmart).

I know some of you are thinking just go out back and watch them play, but seriously that's not gonna happen. Why do you think we bought a house with a backyard? Its not like I'm letting them play in traffic. Now that the chickens are gone (its a sad story, please don't make me tell it) there's really no dangers in the back yard so they can play all they want with no worries. The only danger is the dangers they pose to themselves by taking off their clothes and me finding out!

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Letters from Benny

Every Friday I receive a wonderful letter from my Stepfather (Benny) to kick off the weekend. They are full of wonderful information that you can use in everyday life and conversations. The following are unedited excerpts from letters sent by Benny. While many parts might seem slightly confusing, remember that I have 5 chickens, 2 boys and a husband.

Excerpt from email sent January 9th, 2009 (Names have been changed to protect the guilty)

Let's just begin by saying I hope you celebrated Friday in a style that was fun, full of frollic and...well, I can't use that type of language with my kids.

I realize that today wasn't much to you, just another day at work, commuting in traffic, get the kids fed and off to bed, and the other mundane things that life brings. Which pair of scrubs to wear? Does this saddle make my donkey look fat? If I get the large diet coke, can I super size my fries? Did I really put that new hot red sweater in with the whites? Will Tom wear pink undies? Shrunken, does that sweater fit even better? Well, would Tom think it fits better?

Well, Ivan missed you today. I asked, and he tells me that you didn't so much as respond to the invitation, much less send the RSVP! What gives? No slightly extravagant gift? No little something (think bling) that shows your appreciation for all the blood, sweat and tears I've shed over you? No treats for the dogs? No second hand card, suitable to be sent to anyone I know named "Ramon"? No singing of the theme song to that masterpiece of the cinema arts "TGIF"? Not even a phone call? You could have phoned, if nothing else and just breathed deep and heavy into the phone. After all, it is Friday! And what's a little suggestive breathing on the phone on a Friday afternoon? Around here we call that "normal".

Excerpt from July 2, 2009 email

My Dearest Melissa, Chickens and assorted others who might read this.

This is absolutely appropriate for today.

Today is "Stay Out Of The Sun Day".

Really. You think I could make this stuff up?

I mean, honestly, who could come up with "Stay Out Of The Sun Day"?

But, don't you think it really should be held on a Sunday?

So, gather all the chickens and herd them all inside. Put 'em in the garage with that Screaming Yellow Zonker Corvette you're hiding from the local Fuzz. Wait minute, let me rethink that. Chickens are not known for being the quietest creatures around. Sorta like Frat boys at a bikini contest. Put them in the garage where you're hiding the car is a sure way to get busted.....
I know! Put the chickens in the garage, let them party like it's 1999. That'll distract the Fuzz. Then move the Corvette inside. Say, in your bedroom. The Fuzz'll never think of looking for the car in there!
Explain to Tom that it's cheaper to put the car in your bedroom for a few months than it is to pay those pesky storage fees down at the county impound.
Then explain to Tom in a sultry voice, how you plan on marking the 64th Anniversary of the Bikini on Sunday. Do that right, and he'll not only forget about the fact the chickens have invited the neighborhood Chihuahuas over thinking they're a small time mariachi band, he won't even mind the music when they start to play!

Excerpt from September 3, 2009 email

September is National Chicken Month!


I knew you could do this.

It's also National Rice Month.

Mmmm......chicken and rice.....that sounds good....

*ahem* excuse me, lost my train of thought there....

It's also "Library Card Sign Up Month"

National Courtesy Month

and National Honey Month.

Now me? I'm off to the Library to politely ask for a cookbook so I can find a recipe for some honey glazed chicken and rice!

So, sashay into the backyard when you get home and let the Ladies know that this is their month! And this is your Friday!

Excerpt from October 22, 2009 email

My Dearest Melissa,

Well, your Momma has climbed K2, the worlds second tallest bed. Only Mount Everest is higher. And this will be proven in the coming weeks as the new box springs she talks about arrive and we slip them under the mattress.
Which brings up a suggestion for an appropriate Christmas present for her: a foot stool. She needs one to get into the bed. It's that high.
We have a sleigh bed, with matching foot and headboards. You can see the footboard, from the door. And most if not all of the mattress above the footboard. There is no way you can see the footboard from the bed itself. As a matter of fact, when I tried out the bed, I got off it by sliding over the footboard, cleared it like an Olympic high jumper.
As for the headboard. You can see it from the door. If there are no pillows on the bed. One pillow, and we're talking throw pillow here folks, and the headboard disappears. Seriously, you can't see it.
In the old house, the bedside table was an inch or so higher than the top of the mattress. Here it's a good six inches below the mattress.
The bed is belly button height on your Momma.
Landon would have a hard time seeing over the bed. Willow thinks twice before attempting to jump up on it. Heck, your Momma thinks twice before getting in it. Fall out of it and you'll run the risk of serious injury!
Brings a literal meaning to the term "go climb into bed."

About your truck...come and get it.

I went out on Tuesday to get in it and head to the other house to get boxes and keep on moving. It had other ideas. I do believe the clutch has decided it don't want to work any more. Which puts it just a half step behind the Volvo, which will go into gear, it just would prefer to fight you on every shift.
I'm getting an automatic in my next car. I'm old, I'm cranky, I don't want to fool around with putting in clutches and adjusting them anymore.
Just let me know when you're coming, I'll get the freezer in the back of the truck for you so you can take it all at once! Heck, we'll even throw in a cinder block or twelve to put it up on. You know, to give the place that proper red dirt road down the hollar ambiance. You have to supply your own stained toilet as a planter.

This just a small sample of his handy work. I really think his letters should be published in a book. I think it should be titled "Letters to the Chickens"
I know this isn't my usual rambling, but I have enjoyed all of Benny's letters and think the rest of the world deserves to enjoy his random babbling.

Christmas Gifts

So with Christmas a mere 24 days away I thought it time I begin my letter to Santa(Yep Hubby this means you!)

Dear Santa, I have been a very good girl this year, only spending your money on truly necessary items. (You know that I couldn't live without those Prada boots) I haven't used many swear words (when talking about you) in my conversation and I even let you watch football on your 52" TV instead of Lifetime movies most Sundays. The house was clean that one week we weren't home and I only left the kids in the backyard unattended those six times. In light of my good behavior I think I deserve some great presents.

I know there's been a great PSA this year about PAP Smears, but really I don't need one for Christmas, you gave me one for our anniversary, remember?

Instead can I have that diamond studded bra we saw in the Victoria Secret catalogue, you know which one I'm talking about. I don't need the matching panties, I think the studs might cause chaffing.
Also since I've been sooo good this year I think I deserve a full length cashmere bathrobe. I know its a little impractical, but I've been really good. Besides you really need to make up for Christmas 2003. You remember, the year you gave me a laser hair removal gift certificate. Yeah that went over about as well as a fart in a whirl wind, when we got married you knew I preferred the European look, but because I love you so much I went and had those little hairs from you know where removed. I was wondering what Ken was getting Barbie and then I remembered that there's really nothing he can get her, she has it all. I don't want it all, just most. So to make it easier I have included a list of things that I "DON'T" want this year or any other.

1. Squirrel feet earrings (even if you shot the squirrel yourself, I don't need the memory)
2. A new vacuum
3. Tickets to a Raiders game
4. A gym membership
5. New mattress
6. Flannel Pajamas
7. Cookbooks (if you don't like my cooking quit asking me for dinner)
8. Riding lawnmower
9. The clapper, Chia pets, or anything else that might have been endorsed by Billy Mayes (may he rest in peace)
10. Something you think your mom would love

Should you feel the need to purchase any of the above items as Christmas gifts please include a new Remington 1100 shotgun and a bulletproof vest for yourself.

Your well behaved and much deserving wife

Monday, November 30, 2009

Hollywood Holidays

Ok, so we've all watched those stupid and sappy holiday movies where the dad is in a hideous sweater standing at the head of the table getting ready to carve the perfect turkey and thanking their family for being there, while a gentle snowfall is seen out the window behind him.

Reality check people. Its not all perfect turkey and happy family. In fact I think sometimes the holidays would be better if there were no family. For instance this year instead of making that dreaded journey to my mother-in-laws or my husband's mother-in-laws (yep, this is you mom) we skipped all the family fanfair and left town. Not only did we leave town, but we went to an area where Ugly holiday sweaters are illegal! Oh and that light dusting of snow outside the window didn't exhist either. Let me tell you how much more fun the holidays are if you boycot that whole Hollywood facade.

Try going to Marie Callendars for their turkey dinner. Sure its $20 a person, but you don't have to fight that little white haired lady in the bakery for the last marble rye, you don't have to spend hours cleaning your house before your family showes up, and there's not cleaning when everyone leaves. (They have a bus boy for the cleanup) You just order your dinner and then leave a nice tip on the table before you leave. Hell they'll give you dessert to go if you ask nicely.

Well what do you do when dinner is done. You don't have to fight Uncle Bob for a place to crash on the couch. There's no family traditions because you left all of that and them back home.

Here's the real holiday in easy steps:

1. Get hotel room reservations and tell no one in the family where you are going. If anyone asks tell them your thinking of cooking dinner at your house this year, but you need to check with your husband first

2. Call Marie Callendars and get a reservation. (Seriously, your not the only one avoiding the whole Hollywood Holiday and that place fills up fast)

3. Pack your suitcase. (Leave the ugly sweaters at home, remember they are illegal)

4. Bring a swimsuit and beach towels.

5. Sneak out of town at 5 a.m. when none of your family members will suspect your departure

6. Oops, you seem to have forgot your cell phone. (Unless you want to send pictures to all the suckers at home having that Hollywood Holiday)

7. When you return and your family wants to know why you disappeared, tell them it was a last minute decision.

But seriously if you had the choice between sitting at the kids table and spending the holiday with 20 of your closest family members and that poor single girl who works with your Aunt Mildred or sitting on the beach watching waves crash in a skimpy two piece bikini, watching that hunk of a man you get to sleep with tonight, which would you choose?

Hmmm, I wonder.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Reverse Racism

I must start this little note with some background knowledge for the reader. Back in March of 2009 my son's preschool thought it would be a great idea to hatch some chickens from eggs. Long story short they moved in with us. I have spent the last 9 months raising these chickens. It started out really simple. Put the chicks in a box with a lamp for heat. Ha, did you know that if you don't turn they light off, they don't know its time for bed. So they are outside in their box at 12:00 A.M. chirping and squeaking under my bedroom window. Let me tell you, the husband was thrilled about this! Time goes by and my boys are having fun playing with them, but they want to show them to grandma on a web call. Great, now I have chicken who poop at will hovering over my laptop keyboard. Its ok, they held it in. The boys bring them in to watch cartoons and hang out in my family room. Ok, buy now they are a little big to be "lap" chickens.
Did I mention there are 5 of them. Yep, that's right 5 chickens, and no we don't live in the country, we are right here in town. (Oops, don't tell anyone) So I know your wondering what kind of chickens I have. Well I have 3 red ones and 2 black ones. No I don't know thier breed, it wasn't written on the egg before it hatched. So we needed to name them. At first they were just 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5; but seriously those names are lame so they got new ones.

At this time I'd like to introduce you to Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Reba Macintyre, Wynnona Judd, and Lucy Ball; of course at home we don't use their last names.

So now begins the tribulations with regard to reverse racism. At first I thought the chickens just didn't like dogs. They chased a lonely Chiuaua out of the yard. Seriously what kind of dog is scared of a chicken? The blue jays that use to sit in the grass, can't stop and rest their wings for fear of being attacked by my 5 girls. Ok so birds of a feather flock together...or so we thought. I went out back just the other day and well since my chickens own the yard and refuse to stay in their coop I went to see what they were doing. Reba and Wynonna were eating what was left of the pumpkin plant in the garden and Michelle and Oprah were pulling feathers from Lucy's neck. What the hell. So I yelled at Michelle and Oprah and put them in timeout for awhile. We do not pick fights. So after a discussion about playing nice with the other gals in the yard I let Mrs. Obama and Mrs. Winfery out on good behavior. You'd think they had learned their lessons right. Nope as soon as it was dinner time those two fat asses started a fight with Reba. Here's Reba wasting away while Michelle and Oprah gorge themselves. The least they could have done is kept the food from Wynonna (the other lard ass in the yard). So why is this? I think my black chickens are racist. They don't want any chickens except black chickens in the yard. This will not do, we do not condone racism in our home. So the solution to most of you would be just eat Michelle and Oprah right? WRONG! These are members of my family. The two racist ladies in the family will begin seeing a counselor and if that doesn't work, well, I guess I'll buy some red spray paint and give Michelle and Oprah a new look.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

People in Control

Why is it when you give a person the smallest inkling of control they think they can rule the world and the way you live in it. For example an employee realizes that their boss is useless and really does nothing all day long and they make a casual comment to another coworker about their observation. One would think that the coworker (in this instance we'll call her Mary) would acknowledge the comment and know that her coworker is just blowing off steam. But what if Mary is an ass kissing brown noser who instead runs straight to the boss? Now we have a problem. Mary has gone to the boss and taken ammunition straight from your mouth with her. (the only thing that could make this moment worse is a tape recorder in Mary's pocket when you were talking) So if you were the boss what would you do? Well since you have that little bit of control, you obviously call in the employee and confront him/her not knowing the circumstances of the said conversation between him/her and Mary.

So that takes us back to the power and control problem. Now the boss has the control and power and you the employee who was venting off some steam and relieving a little stress are at their mercy. What now? Do you kiss your bosses ass and beg for mercy?

  • HELL NO!

  • You deny EVERYTHING!

  • And I do mean EVERYTHING!

  • You have no clue what crazy Mary is talking about (she's been going through a hard time and is probably drinking again)

Ok, so we think the problem is solved right. You've denied everything until you are blue in the face and maybe your boss believes you. There's still a few problems.

  1. Your boss still has the control and power. You now have a target on your back and are being watched like never before.

  2. Your boss still has the control and power, and s/he is still useless

  3. You can't trust Mary any longer

Well, short of putting liquor bottles in your bosses desk and a dead body under their car in the parking lot there really isn't much we can do about numbers 1 and 2. Ah, but number 3 will be fun!

How do we deal with Mary? At this point she probably doesn't know that the boss had a stern conversation with you and you were written up, and if she suspects she can't confirm (unless she was standing outside the door with a cup against it) We all remember that old adage "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer" lets roll with that.

Lets make nice with Mary, after all, the nicer you are to her the more she lets her guard down. Who knows maybe one day she'll have a bad day and need to vent. Luckily for you, you just purchased a new pen size tape recorder. She'll never know what hit her.