Who The Hell Are You And Where's My Gas Money??

Life with a 12 year old daughter is a challenging endeavor.  She is one of those kids who was born as a 30 year old or so she thinks. She is in the 6^th grade and loves school, gets great grades, plays volleyball, participates in show choir, and has a lot of friends. And by lots of friends I mean an entire posse. She recently had her end of the year sports awards banquet for volleyball. For some reason, the planners that be thought going to Ryan’s Buffet was a good idea. This dinner was for the entire middle school sports teams, cheerleaders, and all their parents and family members. If you have ever been to one of these places you will quickly realize they do not offer big banquet rooms thereby forcing everyone to scatter amongst the existing tables.

Everywhere we go my daughter pretty much refuses to acknowledge my existence so upon our arrival she was immediately enveloped by a gaggle of squealing pre-teen girls known world-wide as her posse. This group of girls consists of about a total of 8 girls. So they are all excited and I realized as I was observing them that they were moving about the restaurant like a giant amoeba. They reminded me of that 1970’s cult classic “The Blob”. Where one child would go, the herd would follow as around and around they would flit from one group of boys’ table to the next.  

Every weekend I get the call. “Mom… can you please take us to the” “insert entertainment du jour here”. This can include such numbers as the skating rink, the movies, or the mall. Now I am sure that I truly am one of those awful parents who will actually drop her kid off at previously mentioned facilities. But I am of the school of thought that as long as the girls stay together and as long as I don’t get a call asking for bail money, then she has earned the right to go out the next time.

She has a terrible habit of never ever putting anything back. Once it hits her hands you can kiss its regular spot goodbye and be rest assured you will be hunting it down. I have found dishes underneath the sofa, the remote control left in the fridge, rocks and lip gloss in the dryer, and school supplies in the bathroom. God knows what kind of homework she was researching in there.  She has no concept of what a laundry hamper is really used for as she assumes stuffed animals and homework papers live in there. She never makes her bed unless I hold something like her cell phone hostage. And she speaks some sort of foreign language she calls text speak. 

I am continually amazed that this hormonal creature emerged from my body. I believe God made her cute so I don’t kill her. Because of his great mercies, she may just have a chance to grow up in one piece.

Hair of the Dog

In this week's speech class I was given the task of remembering a time when a speaker was wearing or something they were doing that completely distracted the audience to the point that they could no longer hear what the speaker was saying. This assignment proved to be an easy one for me.          

Accurately describing a time when I was distracted by something beyond a speaker’s words, I would have to take you to my high school Spanish teacher’s class. He was a rather portly man with dark hair that  greatly resembled an island. Senor Manzo was from Spain and spoke the proper Spanish of a gentleman. His tolerance for classroom nonsense was at an altogether low level on a daily basis and I would gather that we were supposed to be learning mucho information. 

 The distraction came from the fact that he had immeasurable tufts of hair protruding from his elephantine ears. I don’t believe any of his students actually remember how to conjugate verbs but they could all vividly recount in great detail the ever present hideous germinating forest. It left an indelible impression on his students of a visual residue never to be forgotten.

Party of Two--- Your Knockers Are Calling

There is a lady I know. She is not particularly beautiful nor is she unfortunate looking. She talks to me every day and there is really no practical way to avoid her. We get along just fine as she is fairly friendly and warm. My problem with her is that I can’t stop staring at her. Well not really her, just her boobs. I understand that God makes women in all sorts of shapes and sizes and that boobs are also included along with that. However, God also invented bras so that we were meant to be the women he wants us to be. Women without sock puppy swinging pendulums undulating about our knees.

Whenever I see a woman wearing an ill-fitting bra, I am simply flabbergasted. You don’t have to buy expensive bras to pick the girls right up and take them to a party of life worth living. It really doesn’t take much effort or energy to at least care where they are sitting. A girl might think it is no big deal, however let me tell you my friend, THE WORLD IS WATCHING! If your belt loops are higher than your droopies, you will be noticed! You cannot hide behind your baggy holiday sweater or your swinging 60's retro blouse.

The solution is simple. Buy a better bra. It’s free to go somewhere and be fitted by a professional. You are never too old and believe me when I say that you do not have anything the bra fitter lady has not already seen. There are no suprises and there are no more excuses.

Regarding the lady I know, I simply keep my mouth shut, all the while fighting the insane urge to walk behind her and hold them up. As for me, I intend to wear my girls loud and proud until the straps break. Gravity may be doing a number on them but it’s not going to win. It’s all about the divide and conquer.

25 Things About Me or Thereabouts

WARNING: I am posting this by request because apparently it makes people spit liquids out their noses. So please drink and read responsibly. Thank you. 

1. I never thought that I would have a large family but I love being mom to 5.5 kids. And by .5 I mean Linda.

2. I have met tons of celebrities. In fact, I have met so many celebrities I have forgotten a few. (Richard Hatch doesn't count as a celebrity). If you want names, dish, or pics, call my cell with a 3-way from a tabloid rag.

3. For the first time in my life, I have a dog. And now I realize why crazy critter owners dote, spoil, pamper, and knit sweaters for them. I can't imagine my life without her.

4. I utterly despise housework. But I AM motivated by teamwork, music, impending company, or vacations.

5. I was born on the East coast, ended up on the West coast, and lived everywhere else in between. I ended up in Louisville by default and it feels like home. At least until we retire to a condo on a marina in North Carolina.

6. I can't sleep if all the doors and drawers aren't closed shut. I also have to make the bed before I get in it if I didn't make it in the morning. And no one or no thing shall breathe on me at all.

7. I will someday own a boat.

8. I get very motion-sick. I can't ride rollercoasters, watch jiggly-camera movies or tv shows, or fly in airplanes or helicopters.

9. My secret wish-list includes a tummy tuck, a boob lift, and lipo. Merry Christmas to me!

10. CSI Miami is the cheesiest show ever and I cannot stop watching it. Every bit of evidence is handed to them on a plate and the killer is found the same day as the crime. Just like real life.

11. It's hard to be a vegetarian when you don't like vegetables. Just sayin.

12. I am constantly making word games out of everything I see. I can make words you didn't know existed out of your name. I can beat anyone at Boggle. And I am hard to beat in a Scrabble game although it's not impossible.

13. I can't stand clowns, video games, cartoons, excessive noise, stupid, ignorant, or incompetent people, secrets, bad drivers, talking on the phone, the "N" word, or sleeping without a fan. (although it can't be blowing on me... see #6)

14. I am addicted to shopping in any capacity, cooking, theater, road trips, Two and a Half Men, shoes, coats, people watching, and texting.

15. I have a song for any word or phrase you throw at me. Try me sometime.

16. At 40 years old, I am enrolled in college with a 4.0 GPA. I don't really care how old I am when I graduate as long as some day I have a degree.

17. I don't see or talk to my friends enough. Luncky for me, my real friends are forgiving and love me anyway.

18. I am an NPR junkie and only recently discovered the joys of podcasting.

19. I totally heart Home Depot, Loewes, power tools, and projects around the house although the plans in my head far exceed my budget and time constraints.

20. As a past PTA President and Board member extraordinaire, Sunday School teacher, Sports team mom, and Scout leader, I now refuse to participate as I've more than paid my dues.

21. Low waisted pants make me feel sexy despite the fact that they are not at all designed for women my age sporting "mama bellies".

22. My ringtone is the theme to Rockford Files. Harkening back to my childhood in this way is like a hug of comfort food.

23. I have a quirky habit of taking on the accent of whomever I am having a conversation with. I am always fearful they will think I am mocking them but the harder I try not to speak with their accent the more pronounced it becomes. Sometimes I will order my food at the drive through with one accent and then pay for my food using an altogether different accent.

24. I have two small scars on my face from when I was 3 years old, locked myself in the bathroom, and proceeded to "shave" like my Grandpa.

25. I have been chased by a helicopter but have never been actually arrested. I blame that one on teen hormones. And Rand.

26. I have to admit that I am truly, madly, deeply in love with my husband and I couldn't feel more blessed to spend my life with my best friend.  

Gag The Gasbag

I just got out of a meeting and feel like I have been run over by a bus. Did you ever have to sit in a roomful of “overtalkers”? You know the ones. They have to dominate the conversation with their exceptionally loud words of wisdom and knowledge no matter what the topic. It’s not acceptable to them that someone else in the room may actually have something to contribute to the conversation at hand. When they have decided that they are through, they manage to look around the room and ask if you have something to add.

I wanted to say, “No, not really. I was here simply so I could nap. In fact, I’m not really here at all. I’m only here in spirit. I mean, it’s not like I was busy or had other deadlines to meet. I actually feel blessed that I was able to witness your verbal vomit disguised as a contribution to our beloved enterprise.”

If I find myself in a room full of “overtalkers”, I can’t seem to waste my energy by trying to talk over them. I will just sit quietly in the corner and let the spewage land where it may. I guess I should know by now to show up wearing my hip-waders but the sanguine side of me refuses to believe that I will be side-swiped like a hatchback outside a bar at 2 a.m.

When sitting through exhausting meetings like the one I just had, it is kind of fun to watch the non-speaking attendees roll their eyes or nodding off. It makes me realize that I have a kindred spirit sitting across the room and I know there will be whispered “OMG’s” and “Can you believe her!??” immediately following the dismissal.

I think I should stick to email. I like to think that my audience is a captured one and my message may be getting through. At least you don’t normally receive a nauseating droning response. And to be honest, I am truly grateful you are taking the time to read this drivel I am claiming as my own. So I may not have a solution to putting these windbags on mute, but at least I can buy some earplugs.