Posts Tagged ‘brain power’

My husband and I both have decided to go back to school. We looked, we checked, we cross referenced our interests, with the job market and decided on what classes to take. Then we looked into schools and we decided on a distance learning (online) school. After about fifteen months I’ll have an Associates Degree in Paralegal studies. Meaning that I’ll finally be able to do something more than say “do you need a bag?” Yay!

My first course went fine. Other than the vague “you need to think deeper” that my instructor kept throwing at me anytime I turned in a paper I got an A in that class. My English Comp class is going very well. I sent my professor an email in the beginning that explained my weaknesses and asked what her grading curve was. She was very impressed with my writing and grammar skills even going so far as to call me entertaining, which is something that is in short supply in technical papers. Double YAY!

My IT class though is already setting me firmly on the road to remembering to cut down and not across. I have always struggled with serious inadequacy issues. Husband has no problem with this. He was raised in security by a two parent household, never had to worry about where food or shelter was going to come from, and has several achievements throughout his life that have bolstered his self esteem. My life on the other hand has been a string of failures with only a few accomplishments scattered within the chaos.

Husband has a perpetual “can do” attitude. Don’t get me wrong, we’re so distinctly different that when we work in tandem we balance each other perfectly, which is a good thing. But sometimes his “i can’t fail” attitude makes me want to pull his nose hairs out one by one. If he wasn’t bigger than me I probably would have by now. Which is another thing that means we work well together, I know he’s bigger than me, and he knows that he has to sleep sometime.

I should have known ahead of time that going to him and saying “I am going to flunk this class” would garner the answer “well with that attitude…” Seriously, sometimes the man is enough to make anyone run screaming for the tequila bottle. And if it wasn’t for that great ass of his I wouldn’t keep putting up with the crap.

So for the last week I’ve struggled through the extremely vague task description until I came up with what I thought was the perfect answer. At least until I went to turn the piece in on the school discussion board and saw that my one paragraph essay paled to the five and six paragraph answers of everyone else. And what’s worse is that now I have to respond to some of those posts. Unfortunately I have no idea what I’m responding on. Do I critique? Do I say good job? What the hell do you want from me you perverse sadist!?

OK, I’m not beat yet, I’ll just write my instructor and find out the answer. That was two days ago and I still don’t have a response. Of course, because of those pesky inadequacy issues I know that it’s because I’ve done something wrong that makes him want to avoid me like the typhoid Mary. What’s wrong with me? Why does he torment me so? The bastard better be tied up in a bunker somewhere to keep ignoring me! (Down not across, down not across, down not across) It couldn’t possibly be because all the things I asked are probably going to be covered in the live chat session tonight. No it’s because I’m fat and ugly and I once threw up in class in the fifth grade and the entire world knows about it so they don’t like me because of it….

Oh, yes, I’m that crazy.


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Not like screaming at me about not being able to stand too close to anything in the room that may have a penis; but something would be nice.

Yes, I am very happy that you are secure enough in our relationship that you already know that you don’t have to worry about me cheating. But come on!

I know that my husband isn’t going to cheat on me. However that does not automatically mean that I’m not going to question certain things. Like when some woman he went to high school with feels that the first thing she needs to tell him when she finds him on Facebook (and she hasn’t spoken to him in a dozen years) is that she’s getting a divorce. Um, excuse me, but why does MY husband need to know that you’re now available?

But if that happens with me I get nothing. Like he’s saying “well I have nothing to worry about because no one’s gonna hit on Slagathor over there.”
I mean throw me a bone! At least ask a couple of questions about the motives of the conversation. Something that says you have at least a little problem with someone who might be getting too familiar with me.

But I get: It’s a compliment when some random stranger ogles your bosom for half an hour in the grocery store. (Well I have a problem with it and you know I have a problem with it so would you at least give him a dirty look or something.)


I don’t have a problem with that guy you knew in middle school telling you that he just got a divorce and that he’s going to be up this way soon and would like to see you again. (Really? You don’t have a problem with that? Are you that blind?)

and especially

I know I’m better than them so why should I worry?

Well I know I’m better than every bleach-haired, toothless, slag you ever dated too! But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be silently accepting of some chick you haven’t talked to in years dumping all her relationship problems on you. When girls do that with each other they are looking for advice. When they do that with other men, they are trolling for dong.

I think that the problem is that my husband is also hopelessly OBLIVIOUS to these subtle cues. Not like oblivious so that he can deny it later, but really and truly completely blind to even the most basic “you can stick that right here” cues.
He really does think that the girl is telling him this stuff because he is a good listener. Um, no. I’ve known you for years and the last thing I would say about you is that you are a good listener. It takes me twenty minutes to get your attention on a good day and god forbid it’s football season! And everyone who knew you back then says that they are surprised that I can get you to listen now. So no. Just no.

He gets the occasional: Why does she think you need to know that?

I get: _____________

That’s right I get NOTHING! So until something finally happens to make my husband at least a little territorial Slagathor will be in the corner drinking tequila and wishing for an iota of personal validation.

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I have three kids, twins who are boy and girl 13 year olds, and a 4 year old. As soon as I had my kids there was apparently a big neon sign stamped on my head that says it’s ok to ask me personal/stupid/annoying questions and give me completely unsolicited advice on everything my kids do.

For example, when I say that I have twins the first question out of most people’s mouths is did you have them naturally or by C-section? The answer is yes, they came out of my vagina. And thank you for concerning yourself with my holiest of holy you person whom I’ve just met. My vag also thanks you for the unwanted attention and sympathy. That question is always second only to “how did/how long did you breast feed?” Wonderful you’ve asked me about my most private areas and I don’t even know your name.

When I was pregnant with my youngest people asked me what we planned to name her. Then they would tell me exactly why that was a horrible name. One fat old trailer dweller told me that I shouldn’t give her that name because it’s too long. What? Just because you named your son Tom because it’s the only one you could spell doesn’t mean that I have to shorten my kids name so that your head won’t explode when you think of it.

So I have both teens and toddler, the most advice riddled ages there are. I get advice everywhere I go. Especially the grocery store. You shouldn’t let your child eat that. You shouldn’t let her stand in the cart. You let your daughter dress like that? You let your kids say that?

First off, it’s fruit, ok. Fruit! And yes my kids eat a lot of it. And yes, sometimes I buy it in those little containers with the high fructose corn syrup in them. When your giant sloth sheds about half a person because you’re letting them gorge on a huge bag of fat free chips in one sitting then you can talk to me about my kids’ diet. Until then you may want to tell junior to take the wrapper off before he starts shoveling in the fat free ho-ho’s. I would really like to know why someone taking up more than half the snack food isle feels the need to tell me and my no-so-big kids how to eat.

Stand in the cart? Lady maybe you didn’t notice but she has her arms around my neck because I’m taking her out/putting her in the cart. As for her standing in the cart in the cereal isle, notice that I’m also holding said cart and that she has two teen spotters on each side of her while she politely picks out her own cereal box. Notice also that she’s not raking the boxes off the shelves like your little monster is doing, nor is she throwing a tantrum because I won’t let her have a super-size box of chocolate coated sugar.

And yes, I not only allow but I personally buy every pair of neon green and orange argyle knee socks in my daughter’s wardrobe. Notice how she’s chosen to pair them with the knee length denim shorts and basic tee-shirt that says “sanity is over-rated”. Not only did I let her marker her white tennis shoes in varying colors, but I helped her chose the pattern.

Oh, and when you say this to me and she replies “At least I don’t look like your little skank.” as she points to your teen who’s wearing the latest in Paris Hilton tramp wear, you know: heels, tiny shorts, push-up bra and and low cut tank top. Or better, the little cotton ass showing shorts that say something classy like “jail-bait” on the back. Yes, yes I do let her say things like that, because when she says it it’s not illegal.

And people wonder why most of my tee-shirts say mean things on them.

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In my previous post I mentioned my guilty pleasure…and if you look closely you’ll see more than one in that post. I did not, however, mention the more common following:


Red Wine





Hot Wings



Chocolate Cheesecake

Why did I not mention those things? Because I am not the least bit guilty about these things.

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Before I lose probably the only reader I have so far I want to admit to a guilty pleasure that not really very pleasurable. It’s a website on my blogroll called The Dreamin Demon.

Let me tell you, as if you’re not already paranoid enough about horrible things happening to your kids the true crime articles on this site will have you helicopter parenting before you get done reading one post.

I found the site by complete accident while looking for an update on a crime in my area. Within two mouse clicks I wanted to wrap my kids up and move to the Yukon or Siberia, or some other place that’s just as unpopulated, arm myself with some anti-tank missiles, and take some high ground so that I can see the crazies coming.

So why do I keep going back? Because I study crime and for fun for one. And two because by reading the posts I’ve been able to track a major swing in public opinion concerning crimes against children.

I’m in my early thirties. I remember when “Stranger Danger” was introduced into schools, as well as the D.A.R.E program’s first year. I also remember the whole “Good Touch-Bad Touch” thing and about a thousand utterly depressing after-school specials that I was free to watch because I was staying home with my two younger siblings at the ripe old age of 9. But within all of this information there was still a problem.

Somehow, as a society, we decided the following:

Older male + younger female = rape, molestation, BAD

Older male + younger male = rape, molestation, BAD

Older female + younger female = rape, molestation, BAD (Sometimes)

Ugly older female + young male = Rape, molestation, BAD (and never talked about)

Older attractive female + younger male = coming of age, pleasurable first time, GOOD!! (To the point of almost no jail time for these offenders and bragging rights for the abused kid)

South Park did a parody on this a couple of years ago that hit the nail on the head. Episode 1010 “Niiicce” was the catch phrase that episode, which was also everyone in town’s response when it was reported that a kindergartner was having sex with the attractive new teacher.

Believe it or not, I watch South Park. However, I really only watch the episodes with underlying social and political commentary. OK, so the delivery is off, and it’s usually surrounded by disgusting toilet humor and some really inappropriate scenes that make me turn away, but that’s actually what makes it more interesting to watch in my opinion. And really, pay attention to air dates of South Park episodes and changes in the social climate and you’ll see a startling pattern.

For example, the above mentioned episode is based on the case of Debra Lafave who had a sexual relationship with a 14 year old boy. This was the 23 year old blond in Florida. In April that same year Lafave avoided jail time (Twice! Two counties, two separate trials) through a plea bargain. Her attorney offered the defense that because she was young and attractive she shouldn’t be sent to jail because it would damage her (WTF!!!!) The South Park episode aired on Oct. 18, 2006.

During the episode Kyle, older brother of the kindergartner Ike who is being molested, is repeatedly met with problems reporting the incident and having it taken seriously. Much the same as the above mentioned case. Socially, it was considered acceptable (and even applaudable) for the 23 year old woman to repeatedly abuse a 14 year old boy who had an idea, but no real understanding, of what was happening to him. You have no idea how many times I read “What’s the big deal, she’s HAWT!!” comments on the news articles about this case. This was one of those cases that made me physically ill to follow.

Most of society saw the relationship between the 23 year old educator and the 14 year old CHILD as a good thing. However, my husband and I saw it for what it was… statutory rape of a minor child by an authority figure. Husband frequents a guitar related message board and more than once laid into someone who made a “she’s hawt!” comment about the case. Often pointing out in no uncertain terms that this was a CHILD and that no one would be thinking it was awesome if it was an adult male of the same age and an underage female no matter how “hawt” the offender was. But when the South Park episode aired everything on that message board suddenly swung the other way. The few people who were still trying to say it was OK because she was hot were immediately met with a barrage of insults and labeled things like pedophile from their first post.

I like The Dreamin Demon because they make no bones about the fact that diddling a kid, no matter age, sex, religion or hotness, is a CRIME!!! It doesn’t matter to the blog writers how hot or not the offender is, only that they are an adult and this is a child. They also hold oblivious parents responsible for their inactions. They do not hide their contempt for parents who rate “their latest swinging ___” higher than their own children. Though they do sympathize in cases where it takes a woman a day to get away from someone because they’ve been trapped by that person. And in cases where a single parent is struggling to work to support her children without a stable support system. But everything else is fair game.

They are by no means nice over there, but they are truthful. They report on the most depraved and disgusting crimes in the news and are not PC about it. basically, they’re saying what we’re all already thinking and I give them a hearty cheer for that.

However, none of this changes the fact that I have to limit myself to reading one post per day so that I don’t do that whole militant move to Siberia thing I mentioned to begin with.

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I love my children, really I do. But sometimes having teens will make you want to happily agree with Mark Twain’s theory that children should be nailed into a barrel and fed through the hole until they turn 18, at which time you then decide if you’re going to let them out or close up the bunghole.

I’ll go ahead and admit that I’m an uncaring monster. I have this dastardly idea that now that my oldest two are 13 they are quite capable of doing a few more chores.

Their previous chore list included such horrifying tortures as:

Pick up your dirty clothes

Fold the laundry

Feed the pets

Wash the dishes

I’m not a big stickler for the whole Clean Bedroom idea, I more insist on a kind of organized chaos for that region. As long as the piles are of mostly the same things and there’s no food anywhere I don’t gripe too much. After all, that’s why you close doors when company comes by.

Now I’ve apparently hit the limit as to how much they are willing to take. I’ve added (Dun, dun, dun) Clean the Bathroom to the monthly repertoire.

I know. Is there no end to the pain I’m willing to inflict?

Unfortunately they’ve also both been asking around school and found that somehow they are the only children in the entire middle school asked to do these strange and archaic things. I mean when the hell did this happen? These are the same chores that I had to do when I was their age.

In an effort to thwart my maniacal controlling tyranny they’ve enlisted the help of a friend’s mother in getting me to quell my insane need for torture. Girl Twin (GT) has a friend who is well on her way to a life with a with a 25 year old factory worker by the ripe old age of 14.

And let me tell you, there’s no advice in the world that compares to the wisdom of a trailer dwelling thirty-five year old, with two first names. That right there is chain-smoking, pregnant, toothless, redneck, swilling a can of Schlitz while her 22 year old husband eyes your 13 year old daughter wisdom. And if the 22 year old, half-shirt clad husband can tear his eyes off you’re underage daughter long enough to nod in agreement, well that’s the kind of wisdom you can’t find at Hallmark.

I believe that “piss off you methed out hag” was the nicest thing I had to say. Luckily she was wasted when I said it and doesn’t remember so she’s still around anytime our girls want to get together. Yay.

This was one of those dangers about having kids that you don’t really get warned about in parenting magazines or pastel colored books with art deco moms and babies on the cover. In print, unsolicited advice seems to come from pant-suit wearing supermoms with whiter teeth and happy over-achieving kids. Not from women affectionately know as “That drunk bitch that hangs out at Sloppy’s bait and tackle.”

I did make a deal with my kids by telling them that if they can find one area mom who has all her teeth, doesn’t have to borrow her sister/cousin’s van for outings, and wears maternity clothes that don’t have beer adverts on them, then I’ll listen to their issues with the torture that is Vacuuming.

Until then, wash the cups and glasses first so that they don’t get greasy. And I will continue to answer the question: Do you have a dishwasher? by pointing to the two of you.

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