I should be exhausted.

But, I'm not. Nope. Not even a little. It's 4:16 a.m. and here I am, fixin' to entertain you. Cause, I'm that girl.

Some bar fodder? Oh, why not? I've not given you any good bits from the bar in a little while, I might as well share...

First, my friend John calls me this morning. He says "Shan...did you tell Scott where I live?" I had to think a second. First, who the fffff...hell is Scott. Then, I picture the WAY too often, WAY drunk guy who's in his mid to late forties that tries to convince himself (as well as the rest of the patrons) that he just turned 21 with his excellent use of ebonics. Yeah, I know who he is. Next, did I tell him where John lives..."Hell no! John, unless I have called and verified it's cool with you to give out your info...I'm not giving it up. Why?" He tells me that at 3am on Thursday morning, there's a pound at his door. He gets up from a decently good sleep to find Scott, a guy he has met all of once at the bar at his door.

Let me share John with you now. John is your all around bad boy. I mean, he looks the part, anyway. 6'6", shoulder length soft, dark brown hair. Full goatee. Tatoos practically covering his arms, one on his neck, a few scattered on his back. Others are rumored. Gruff voice. Owns a Harley. Entirely too sexy for his own good. Sweet as a school girl. I'm sure if you pissed him off, it wouldn't be pretty, but for the most part, I've seen him talk people out of fighting at the bar, I've seen him buff a few people out...and that night that I got slugged by drunk vampirish girl...John's the one who put her in a bear hug and carted her off to her car. He's a good guy. But, I imagine that seeing someone at your door that you don't know, who's drunk out of their goard at 3 am is enough to try anyone's patience.

Ok. So, I tell John that I didn't...he says that the guy pounded on his door, and when he answered it, Scott just stood there. He said "Hi." That's it. Hi, and stood there. John is just staring at him. Finally, John says "Dude...what the hell do you want?" He continues to stand there staring at John. John says "Get the fuck out of here. Are you nuts? It's 3am, people are sleeping. I have to be at work in 3 hours. Go away." and slammed the door in his face.

Ok. Now, fast forward to tonight. I see Scott come in the bar. Of course I don't say anything to him about what John said. You don't share that you're friends with people outside of the bar because that just opens you up to all sorts of rumors that you don't want flying around a bar with a freshman mentality. So, I just smiled inside, and served him up. Scott gets increasingly drunk as the end of the night draws near.

At 2am, I went to him and said "Scott, do you need me to call you a cab or something? How are you getting home?" He says he's got it worked out.

By worked out, he meant that he was planning on "gettin' some" from one of the chicks in the bar. Problem is, the only chicks in the bar left at that point were Casey...who'd eat him for breakfast, Meghan, who's dating Lex, Chris: who owns the bar, and me: and that's a big fat negative.

2:30 comes and I start pulling drinks out of people's hands. I've already asked them to leave at this point, and have warned them to drink up or I'm taking them. I hear Scott trying to get with Casey. Casey not-so-gently tells him where he can go, so over to me he comes. He already knows that a snowball would have a better chance in hell. Why does he know this? Because I've already explained it to him on our first meeting over a month ago now. He says "Baby...I could make you mine right now if I really wanted to."

I reply "Scott...how are you getting home again? You need to be out of the bar in 2 minutes. You can't stay here." He ignores me and is now trying to pull my diamond off my finger. I gently explain that if he touches me again, we're going to get the answer to the age old question of what a stick really looks like up someone's ass. Finally, I get him out of the bar.

But, BUT...now he's expecting Chris the owner to take him home. We've got shit to do. The Halloween party is Saturday night and we're still preparing for it. We had planned to stay until 4-5ish to get stuff done so that we're not slammed with it tomorrow, when Friday is usually our busiest night.

The entire time his drunk ass was outside I could hear him screaming, calling Chris and I names, pounding on the door, saying how mean we are because we won't let him in to use the phone, right? LOL We OFFERED him the phone while he was still in the bar. Not once, but three times. I offered it, Chris offered it, and then I offered it again.

Finally on time 7 or 8 of him slamming himself against the door to the bar, Chris LOST it. She went flying to the door and opened it and said "Look you drunk fucker!" LOL She told him to calm the hell down and that she'd drive him home.

Finally we wrap stuff up so we can leave and I went with her to take him home. She went OFF. She sat there absolutely screaming at him. By the end of the conversation, she barred him from the bar for 30 days. If he shows up I'm not to serve him.

That's just funny to me!

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Humdrum, Fun, Fun!

It's officially Monday. Well...wait, as I look at the clock, officially it turned Tuesday exactly one minute ago. But, that's neither here nor there. What I mean is it's MY Monday. And, I'm not working. This is a good, good thing.

Normally, I should have two nights off per week from the bar. That never seems to happen. I like money, so when she calls and says "Hey, would you mind covering for: fill in the blank" I always shake my head, flip her off (she can't SEE me when I'm talking to her on the phone), plaster a fake smile on my face (cause she can hear the smile. You knew that right? People can hear your smile over the phone.) and tell her that I'd love to cover the shift for her.

Tonight, tonight is my night off. I watched another phenomenal episode of Medium. I LOVE that show. Really love it. I also watched "How I Met Your Mother". That's a promising show. I like the humor there. And Vegas. I never miss Vegas if given the choice.

It's 12:04 now (a full three minutes since I started this post) and I'm thinking that I'm not tired. I should be tired...I only had like 3 hours of sleep last night, and my raging cold has now morphed into bronchitis. I get bronchitis twice, sometimes three times a year. At least once a year, it morphs even further into pneumonia. I'm pushing towards not having it go to pneumonia this time. I mean, lets just say it the way it is, and say that pneumonia is pretty effin' sucky. I don't want it. I'd rather it wait to rear its ugly head, if it must, when I'm not so busy.

Got a call at 7am this morning on a new case. Adult foster care, an adult mental patient has been missing since Thursday. I'm just now being called on it. I HATE that our system works that way. Call me when we're 5-24 hours down. 5-24 hours gives me a leg up on the search efforts. Four days is looking for a needle in an extraordinarily large haystack.

Saw Rio today. He's such a dork. Now that he's all comfy with me manhandling him, and confident that I'm not out to do some diobolical horror to his bare skin, he's all about me scratching him under his feathers, especially under his wings. So, when he sits on me, he's flapping incessantly until I shove my hand under his wings and rub his belly and his armpits.

And, apparently, I'm just sexy. Marshall, an eclectus parrot who is also being bought on a little payment plan there by another girl expressed that he thought so today. I'm all walking by his cage...I say "Hey Marshall! How's the good boy?" Uh huh. Marshall didn't say shit to me. No, no...Marshall hopped on my arm and started to um...copulate with it.

And Rio...Rio's been throwing up for me for quite a while now. Normally, when he throws up for me, he'll just throw up in his mouth to show me he's doing it, but won't actually puke ON me. Today, he puked ON me. Thank you, Rio. Mommy loves you too.

Rumor has it that Marshall's mommy hasn't paid on him in quite a while. I love Marshall, and Marshall loves me. If Marshall's mommy doesn't buck up...I think Marshall might come live with me and Rio. I'll do that instead of getting Ruby, his current cage mate. Ruby is the Hitler of birds. I used to at least think she was pretty and hope good hopes for her...lately I just want to pull her beak off. I actually watched her make a victim out of some little girl's daddy today. He's all showing his daughter this pretty bird. I'm watching from afar (ready to give the speech about terrorizing my bird) and he sticks his finger up there. I got to be the one to deliver the bandaid. That little girl will probably hate birds the whole rest of her life.

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My 100.

Ok, Cheryl inspired me. (Check out hers...HERE) Here's my 100 list.

There is no order, just random facts about me:

1.) I love classic country music. I was born and raised on it. Some of my best memories co-exist with Merle Haggard, Tammy Wynette, George Jones, George Strait, Alabama, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and many more.

2.) I sing. Mostly country, but I do enjoy some rock and roll occasionally too.

3.) I have 3 boys. Alex, Sam and Logan. I love them more than I thought myself capable of loving any person, place or thing.

4.) I'm married. His name is Jason. As of this writing, he is 25 years old.

5.) My husband is 4 3/4 years younger than me. He thinks it hysterical to crack geriatric jokes at me.

6.) I'm an animal fiend. I have a dog, Murphy. Two cats - Lily and Hagrid. And, am acquiring a Military Macaw, Rio.

7.) I have two jobs. One currently pays, one currently doesn't. The one that does provides excellent fodder for this blog. The one that doesn't provides excellent life lessons every day.

8.) Like Cheryl, I am addicted to Mountain Dew. If ever I need a transfusion, hook me up to a fountain machine for Dew, and I'll be fine.

9.) I've loved so deeply that it broke my heart. It continues to do so every single day of my life. The person I loved so deeply is not my husband. He knows this and it makes him sad.

10.) I love fine art, yet don't own a single piece with the exception of a painting of my mom and her horse.

11.) My mother is dead. She was murdered June 25, 1997 by the asshole that she married.

12.) Her death was officially ruled a suicide. We knew better. It has been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn't kill herself, yet the record still reflects that she did.

13.) I buried her with her maiden name on the headstone.

14.) I have a lot of siblings. Not all are blood, but we believe love is thicker than blood. Cj and I grew up in the same home. Amanda, Jennifer and Joe are my biological father's children. My step-siblings are Janice, Kenny and Mike. Christy is my sister too, though she died of spinobifida when she was 8 years old.

15.) I'm adopted by my dad. To me, that's stronger than a biological tie because he asked to and wanted to be my daddy.

16.) I can't STAND my biological father. (Sperm donor, Bio-Dad...whatever.)

17.) I've lost about 40 pounds since I picked up a second job. Even I'm starting to think I look hot. LOL

18.) I HAVE to have my nails done. I wear acrylics, and without them, I might very well go insane. The reason for this is that I'm a nail biter. It's a terrible lifelong habit that no matter how hard I've tried, I can't break. I don't bite them when I have acrylics on. The acrylics stay on.

19.) I type 90 wpm. Yes, even with acrylics.

20.) I smoke. Not a fact I'm proud of, but a fact, nonetheless.

21.) I'm a very sexual person.

22.) I have bad credit. I've been slowly but surely working to rectify the situation, but it's still not spectacular. I don't suppose it will be for another year or two.

23.) I have a felony on my criminal record. I didn't do what I pleaded no contest to, but its there. I plan to have it expunged when the time span (5 years) is up.

24.) I have 2 drunk driving offenses on my record. The first one, I got the week my mother was killed. The second, I got while celebrating a new job with new co-workers in the year 2001. I haven't drank alcohol and climbed behind the wheel of a car since, nor will I.

25.) My favorite color right now is green.

26.) My second favorite color right now is pink.

27.) I love the University of Michigan. Michigan State sucks.

28.) Halloween is my favorite holiday of the year.

29.) I'd give almost anything for one more day with my mother. We need to talk just one more time.

30.) I used to dream very vividly about her. Over the last 8 years, the dreams have waned to maybe a few per year. I miss them.

31.) I have a reoccuring dream that she's alive, but used to be dead. We carry on with life, and it's just a fact that she used to be dead.

32.) I crave culture. My life is so chock full of mundane bullshit now, and sometimes all I want is some decent culture to thrive and grow with.

33.) I have to be filling my head with new information constantly. If I'm not, I lapse into a rut that is hard to not call depression.

34.) I am addicted to purses. I have several (hundred) of them. Getting a new purse sets your whole week off right.

35.) I am similarly addicted to shoes. I don't have as many shoes as I do purses, but it's gotta be damn close.

36.) My favorite pair of shoes right now is my "hooker boots". They are knee high boots with a 3 1/2 inch heel on them. They're black, can look classy or trashy...whichever I want. They also look great under jeans.

37.) I hate housekeeping. I'm not good at it, and I don't want to be good at it. I would be happiest with a housekeeper that came in daily to deal with the domestic bullshit. Especially the laundry.

38.) My favorite jeans are too big for me by two sizes now. I bought a new pair of favorite jeans. They're LEI, lightly faded and look as worn as my old favorite jeans.

39.) I want a boob job.

40.) I have no ass. At all. My Gram says that we belong to the N-Double A society: No ass at all. I'll not be getting ass implants.

41.) I used to hate my nose. I don't anymore. With the exception of my boobs, I'm comfortable in the skin I'm in.

42.) I have about 800 books. I don't share, and I'm very selfish with them. It's not that I don't want to share. It's that I can't bring myself to let go of any one of the titles. Even if the book sucked.

43.) My favorite book of all time is "A Time To Kill" by John Grisham. I have the original first edition hard cover copy of it.

44.) I love movies. We collect DVD's, and those I'll share. But, if you scratch it, you'll have the wrath of me on your hiney.

45.) I have a hard time picking out my favorite movie. There's so many.

46.) I'm a closet Harry Potter fan. I used to HATE him. Then, my husband bargained me into watching the first three movies in a day. I realized they don't suck, and then ended up reading the series. Now, I'm foaming at the mouth waiting for movie 4 to come out, and book 7 to make it's way out of JK Rowling's head.

47.) I have a temper. Sometimes I'll throw a fit, and then five minutes later wonder what I was so worked up about.

48.) My favorite scent is my Grandmother's perfume. But, only on her when she hugs me. It wouldn't be the same if I just bought a bottle.

49.) My second favorite scent is that of baking chocolate chip cookies. Especially if it's not me making them.

50.) I'm not a domestic person. I like it that way. Sometimes I like to cook, but I have to be in the mood for it. If I'm not, it's the same-ole-same-ole. Meat, potatoes, veggie.

51.) My favorite pizza is a plain ole cheese pizza with parmesan on the crust.

52.) If I have to have a topping on a pizza, I'll choose pineapple and mushrooms.

53.) I don't and won't drink vodka. Ever. That was my mother's poison of choice. The smell of it turns my stomach.

54.) I rarely drink. Maybe a few times a year. If I do, it's generally Bud Light. If I'm feelin' spunky, I'll drink a margarita or a pina colada. I actually prefer a pina colada with no alcohol.

55.) I never, EVER, drink at home. My mom was an alcoholic, and she was drunk for 98% of my childhood. My kids will never, ever, and I mean NEVER go through that.

56.) I knew how to make a White Russian and a Screwdriver at the age of 5.

57.) I knew that mommy needed a glass of ice water every morning before she got out of bed if I didn't want her to be mean to me.

58.) She hit me a lot until one day, I hit her back. That was the last time she hit me.

59.) My favorite childhood memory was my dad coming home and my mom telling him that I needed a spanking for something. He drug a chair into my room, took off his belt, rubbed his hands together, spanked my butt once to bring tears to my eyes, and then told me to scream every time he hit my bed with his belt. We had an understanding that exists to this day. He'll never hurt me, and he's always there if I need him. It might be a hard time, but it's ok because we're in it together.

60.) My mom and I were in a huge fight when she died.

61.) Her death changed the course of my life. I'm a whole different person today than I was the day before she died.

62.) I love photography. I fancy myself an amateur photographer, yet am not sure enough of my photos to share them with anyone.

63.) My all-time favorite food is King Crab legs. I don't dip it in butter or anything like that. I love them just the way they are.

64.) My favorite wood is mahogany. I love the way it ripples.

65.) I wish I were more artistic. I envy the creativity in the people I meet, the people I hang out with, and the people I love. I'm attracted to it, and then feel somewhat inferior because of it.

66.) Some people intimidate me, and I never do understand why. On the other hand, some people that should intimidate me don't. The one's who should but don't have turned out to be some of the best relationships I have.

67.) I had my tongue pierced for a year. Then I decided it looked trashy and took it out. I really liked it though.

68.) I'm a closet freak. Most people who know me have no idea how sexually freaky I am. This is probably the only reference you'll ever find about it in this blog.

69.) I'm cold by nature. When you see most people wearing short sleeved shirts and maybe a light jacket, you'll see me in a turtle neck, a sweatshirt, a winter coat and a scarf. Maybe even two pairs of socks.

70.) Rodney Carrington cracks my shit up. Not his sitcom...I think that sorta sucks. I like his stand up routines.

71.) The first concert I ever went to was Anne Murray. I still love her to this day.

72.) When I was a kid, I genuinely thought I'd grow up to marry Jordan from New Kids on the Block. Now, I think he's a wanker.

73.) Most of the time, I'm too honest for my own good. Where a white lie would suffice, I'm saying it how it is.

74.) I spend entirely too much time on the phone. I have three backup batteries for my cordless phone. I generally go through at least two of them per day.

75.) I'm a procrastinator. If I can put it off until tomorrow, it will be.

76.) I'm a bi-centennial brat. I was born in 1976.

77.) I fit the aries zodiac sign to a T. Everything that the books and articles say for aries has pretty much proven true about me.

78.) Capricorns intrigue me, Leo's irritate me, Taurus's have been loyal to me and Gemini's infuriate me. But, I'm not so silly as to believe that their signs define them. Though, I have to say that most of the time they are accurate.

79.) The quickest way to piss me off is to try to control me. When someone tries to control me, I retalliate by shoving that control right up their ass by any means necessary.

80.) I'm not vindictive unless I have felt like a person has been unreasonably vindictive towards me. Then, it's not pretty.

81.) I fancy myself a feminist, but not opposed to gentlemanly gestures such as door opening and chair pulling. I only get all pissy when someone is so closed minded to believe that they can do something better than me purely from a gender-related standpoint, and not because they've earned the right to think so.

82.) I grew up in a very bigoted home. I'm not prejudiced, but I do sometimes get uncomfortable around people from other races, more out of ignorance for how I should handle the situation and fear of what they perceive as reality than what's actually going on.

83.) Up until about 6 months ago, I believed myself to have a brown thumb...as in like I kill every plant I get my hands on. But, I have 8 houseplants right now that are doing excellent.

84.) My biggest fear is leaving my children without a mother. I can't fathom dying before they are grown up enough to handle it.

85.) Up until about 2 years ago, I actually believed that I was going to die by the age of 39. The age my mom was when she died. Now I think that it's just going to happen when it's supposed to happen.

86.) I'm a organizational freak that doesn't follow through with her own plans. I own a PDA, a day-planner, two desk calendars, a professional program for my computer for organization, two wall calendars, a large placemat calendar, and thousands of little gadgets to keep me organized. I'm still not organized.

87.) I work best under extreme pressure. My peak, professionally is when I have 300 things going on at once and I don't have time to second guess my decisions.

88.) I have to learn by experience. My grandma can tell me to save for a rainy day until she's blue in the face. It actually takes the transmission going out of my car and me not having any money to fix it to understand what the hell she was so hellbent for election about.

89.) I sweat the small things in life. The big things, I deal with, and deal with well. It's the little things...leaky faucets, spilled milk...those things that irritate the shit out of me.

90.) I've grown to adore the friends I've made on blogger. Without you guys, my day would never be complete. I look at you as friends, not just "computer friends" or "acquaintances I've met on the net."

91.) One of my best friends in the world is a psychic medium. I didn't really believe in all of it until she made a believer out of me by telling me where to find a body of a missing person I was looking for. The remains were right where she said they'd be. Since then, she's proven herself over and over and over again.

92.) I read and re-read the posts from the person I look at as my soul mate. I wonder every day how he is, if he still thinks of me, and if he forgives me for hurting us. I can't remember a single day that's gone by that I haven't thought of him since we parted ways. Yet, I am comfortable in my life, and confident that the decision I made was the right one for my family.

93.) There's no person on this planet that I respect more than my daddy. As far as I know, he's never been wrong on anything he's ever said to me. I am almost 30 years old, and still believe that he knows everything.

94.) I'm proud of my little brother. He went back to college, is on the deans list, is doing excellent and is doing it on his own. This is after he spent the last several Christmas's in jail. I'm ecstatic for him.

95.) I'm not a jealous person.

96.) I hate to exercise, but I love pilates. I have been doing them 3 times a week for the last 4 weeks. It's helping. I tried a kickboxing class, and it literally kicked my ass. My ass STILL hurts from that little fiasco. Screw kickboxing. I'll stick with Mari Winsor.

97.) When I clean my house, I CLEAN my house. Like, no surface cleaning bullshit...If I'm going to do it, I do it right.

98.) You want to watch me freak out? Take my internet connection away.

99.) I'm a lipstick addict. You will rarely, if ever see me without lipstick or earrings. Not because I'm vain, because I feel nekkid without them.

100.) This list was an interesting look for me of what's hanging out in my head about me. Thanks Cheryl!

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83.)

I'm Schmoopy.

Tonight, I started bawling. I don't know WHY I started bawling...I just did. Well...wait. Let me walk you through the events of what preceded my little sobbing fit...

About two weeks ago, three customers sat at the corner of the bar. The three of them started piling a bunch of ones on the bar for my tip. I didn't take them right away because, I didn't know if that's what they were really intended for. Anyways, when they got up to leave, I turned my back for just a second (saw that the money was still there), and out of the corner of my saw Danny, an older regular scoop them all up and put them in front of him. I walked over to him and said "What did they do, take all my tips with them?" He handed me three dollars (out of like 15) and said, "Nope, here they are sweetie."

The fucker took my tips. Fine. Not a big deal, I mean it is a big deal because that's sort of the point of me being there, but 15 bucks isn't worth me knocking his ass out, if you know what I mean. I made a mental note to not be nearly as nice to him, to stick my finger in his drinks before I give them to him, and that if I should happen to sneeze as I'm getting him a drink...so be it. No need to wash my hands before serving him. Right?

Ok. Tonight, a customer requested that I sing the song "When I Think About Cheating" by Gretchen Wilson. So, the song comes on, I've got the microphone behind the bar. I start singing it, when Danny walks in. Another regular, a woman who I've actually grown quite fond of, is usually really nice and whom I respect as a person (albeit an alcoholic person) screams "Shannon! Danny needs a beer down here." I said "I'll be right there." between lyrics.

I continued to sing the song, and after I was done walked over to get him a beer. The owner's son was there, he got him a beer...all should have been fine, right? Yeah, it wasn't.

The nice woman, the one I like? Fuckin' freaked out. "You don't have ANY idea what you just did. You're a bartender first, you sing second. You don't tell me just a fuckin' second!"

Instead of ripping her into a new one like I'd normally do, I said "Alright" and walked away from her. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?! I take pride in the fact that I couldn't give a shit less about what people think of me! I walked away with my tail between my legs, tears sprang to my eyes, I went into the kitchen and started bawling my little head off.

Then, when Chris, the owner got there, I told her about it and started bawling again! I NEVER cry. I don't know what came over me tonight.

On top of it all, today was my husband's birthday. I bought him a present, but I was thinking today was Wednesday, not Thursday, and had planned to put it out with his card now (my days are fubar'd because of the hours I work) for this morning. I get to work, look at the date when I checked someone's ID and SONOFABITCH, I let him go all day long without so much as saying Happy Birthday or anything.

I'm like the worst wife ever.

And I still feel like shit!

Cest' la vie right?

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Cough, Cough, Cough, Hack, Cough, Cough, Cough

I am literally sitting here coughing up a lung. I just got over a fairly decent cold about 4 days ago. Yet, last night, I started sneezing, I felt cough-y and this morning I woke up with the body aches, my glands all swollen, snot running down my face (I know...hot, right?), the chills and coughing my guts out. That's just yucky.

But...I'm a trooper. I didn't call into work. Nope, not me. I put on makeup, a cute outfit, did my hair...it was a beautiful thing. Before I went in, I stopped at Walgreens to grab some Aleve Cold and Sinus. Let me ask you something...since when is Aleve a freakin' narcotic? Now, at the Walgreens on Michigan Avenue, Jackson East, in order to purchase Aleve Cold & Sinus, you must take a little card from the rack that looks like the package, march it up to the pharmacy counter, present it to the nimrod that works there who hates his job, his boss, you and pretty much all of life, wait while he looks for it, and then and only then can you purchase it. After showing your ID, of course.

To top it off, I was running late, thinking I would run in quick and just grab it, pay for it and go, and I find myself behind two little old ladies. Marge and, well...I didn't get the other one's name. Next to the pharmacy counter, there is a display with warming KY Jelly Massage oil. The ladies spent their 15 minutes in line discussing with each other what they would do with warming massage oil to their husbands. They had to be in their mid to late 80's, ok? Good Lord, if I wasn't pissed by the time I finally got up there to the counter after standing behind those two. I stood back there erping (throwing up a little in my mouth) as they talked quite explicitly about giving Grandpa a rubdown. One word: Ewww.

I ended up 5 minutes late for work because of all of this, took the pill, and low and behold: It DIDN'T WORK. I still can't breathe, I still am coughing my guts out, I still have snot intermittently running down my face, I'm still an irritable bitch, my body still hurts...all those things that Aleve is supposed to help!

Damnit!

Oh well...there's always tomorrow!

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Just more stuff...

It is 4am. I just got home from the bar (bartending, NOT drinking...) and since I have to be up at 6 to put my six year old on the bus, I'm thinking it's not a real smooth idea for me to go to sleep. Otherwise, there will be a panicked knock on my bedroom door around 9-ish with my six year old saying "Mom! MOM! I missed the bus! I can't miss school!"

I know this because it happened about 2 weeks ago!

I'm running out of time for freakin' everything. Y'all know how much I love my bird. I went to go see him today for the first time in three days. I felt like crap because here he is waiting to see me every day, the poor little man literally has nothing better to do than to beat up on Ruby and wait for me, and I skip THREE WHOLE DAYS of seeing him. Not by choice, mind you...no, no...I picked up two new missing persons cases this weekend, plus bartending, plus hanging out with my kids, plus spending some quality time with the hubster...I know that there's an age old cliche that if we could only add another hour to the day, yada yada yada...but I need like 4. Four hours added to my schedule every day would be freakin' awesome.

So, Rio (the bird)'s visit went good today. I came across an epiphany of sorts with him while we were visiting today. All this time since I've been working with him (and buying him), I've been scared of his beak. So, when I approach him, I do so with caution. You know? Cause, one bite from the can-opener that is his face leaves you with a burning thought that you don't want to experience that again. So, when I approach him, I do so with caution. I have read, re-read and read again everything I can possibly get my hands on regarding Macaws and handling, taming, clicker training, behaviorism...and they all say to approach cautiously and on the bird's terms.

Today, Rio and I were hanging out. He's on my arm. Normally, while in the cage, he likes to play the "Get my toes" game, where you'll say "I'll get Rio's toes! Get yur toes! I'll get the baby's toes!" LOL. So, I decided we'd do this while he was on my arm. So, I started with his toes, then said "Get your beak!" and gently touched his beak. Then I got his wings, then his belly, and after every time I'd get a part, I'd go back and get his beak, just touching it very gently.

He freakin' loved it. All that bird wants is to be manhandled, cuddled, hugged and played with. The only thing I need to be afraid of is if I accidentally hurt him while playing, and then he'll nip, but not necessarily bite.

The other thing I've done for him is to incorporate several pieces of green clothing into my wardrobe. Since he absolutely abhors the color red (every thing I've worn in there red has left with several large holes in it), I thought if I dressed his color, maybe he'd see me more like a playmate and less like something that he hates (example: Ruby, cagemate who is ALSO red). I didn't leave with any holes in my shirt today. Good stuff right there.

Did I already tell you about the trick he learned? He'll sit on my arm, and fall over backwards. So, I thought it'd be funny if I cued him to do it after I said "Bang" and shot him with my other hand's pretend gun. So, now, I'll stick my finger out like a gun and go "Bang!" and he'll drop backward and hang with one foot from my arm. Next step is that I want him to "Put em' up", or rather raise his feathers before I shoot him. LOL I know, I know...I'm a dork. Some people do crack...I do animals.

Mr. DK is really enjoying his job, though he works a whacked schedule. He works 3 on, 3 off, 2 on, 2 off. It's called a C shift or something wierd like that. But, he's really enjoying it and seems to be doing well at it.

We've been really enjoying Heather and Charlie living next door too. Those guys are great. They're fun, they're normal, and we really like spending time with them. I think it's good for Mr. DK to have someone to hang out with on his off time too. They're daughter, Alyssa isn't old enough to play with my boys yet (though we do call her Logan's girlfriend...he's 7 mo, she's 4 mo!) but we seem to spend a lot of time together, and we like it. They're computer/movie dorks too, and now Mr. DK has someone to play Texas Hold em' with!

So...that's the scoop so far this week. It's only Tuesday (technically Wednesday, but it's MY tuesday, dangit!) so it can only get more interesting from here!

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An Upsetting Look At Fall.

Go take the test here.

I did after Cheryl suggested it. Cheryl's was all warm and cuddly. Beautifully put even. I got THIS:

You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

What Part of Fall Are You?

Sweet. You know...that's JUST the way I like to start out my season. With a prophecy of death and destruction. But hey...I'm pretty, so that counts, right? Jeez. LOL No offense, Cheryl, but I'll be thinking twice about taking anymore fun quizzes. LMAO.

My last post had a question about suicide. I hadn't gotten around to reading SteelCowboy's blog for the day yet when I wrote it. If you haven't been there, you really need to go check out the phenomenal post from October 11. It's worth the read.

Off to work again. Have a good ones guys!

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Catch Up and a Realistic Look at Suicide.

Before we start, don't worry. It's not MY suicide we'll be looking at. Relax.

So, I haven't posted in like 5 days. I'm sorry. I truly am sorry. To all of those who have gently prodded me with emails like "Where the hell are you?" and "Chop-Chop: Get your ass back to blogging." I'm here, alive and interestingly enough, I have WAAAAY to much on my plate. Every so often I like to cram my schedule so full that I can't possibly breathe, much less sit around and contemplate my life just to test myself to see if I've still got it. As of now, I've still got it. LOL

So, what's going on in the world of me, you ask? Well...the two job thing is still going ok. MYF by day, bartender/bouncer/waitress by night. I like bartending. I was getting a little irritated with all the fights and such there for a minute, but in all honesty, I am handling it, and it's kind of like a little stress relief. There's something satisfying about having all this angst in my head and heart from dealing with heartache and loss all day and then being able to take it out on mean drunks at night.

An example, you ask? Oh, well of course. Saturday night, there was a fight brewing. I knew it was coming, you could just tell by the demeanor of the two men involved. The big guy, Ray-Ray (yes, they really call him this. I also heard him called "Rayban" and "Raygun") just got out of prison, by his own admission. 7 1/2 years. You can always peg the guys who have done a significant amount of time. They're the only self respecting large 40 year old white dude referring to everyone as their "homies" and their "peeps".

The other guy was just your run of the mill 45 year old, who was from what I could tell, minding his own business and tipping well. He sat there with another buddy, Randy. Randy was on crutches, due to a surgery on his ankle where they had to put some pins in (or something. I was paying attention, but not that close attention).

So, Ray and Randy have been going rounds since their freshman year of high school, according to a spectator. However, Randy wasn't really in the mood to squabble that night, due to his injury. So, instead, Ray picks a fight with Run-of-the-mill guy. He starts saying nasty things to him, yelled something at him about learning what it's like to be someone's "Prison-Bitch", and truthfully, that's where everything started going somewhat downhill.

It was at this point that I made the decision that Ray had had enough to drink. I cut him off. He ordered a beer and I told him that if he wanted to go home and drink that it was his perogative, but he wasn't drinking anymore in the bar.

I watch him drag run-of-the-mill guy out on the patio. I go watch between the crack of the door what they were doing, expecting a fight. I see him take the cellophane off his cigarette box, and see a vial of white powder in the bottom of it. I walked out there with Lex (a regular who is big, sweet, and fairly protective of me) to kick him out of the bar. Run-of-the-mill guy was in the process of trying to escape Ray and the situation when I got to the table. Neither of them saw me coming. I heard Run-of-the-mill guy say "Are you crazy? Do I look like a druggie to you? Jesus Christ, Man, put that shit away!"

I said "Ray...this is where I ask you to leave. You've had an attitude since you got here, and now you're pulling out cocaine in my bar. You need to leave."

He says "Your bar? This isn't your bar. Chris loves me. She would never kick me out." I said "It's my bar tonight, and it's my job to protect it. I can assure you that your 10 bucks worth of beer that you've bought here tonight isn't worth her liquer license being taken away for you attempting to do or sell drugs out of the bar. Leave."

He wouldn't leave. So, I called Chris to tell her. She says "Be there in 10" And I let him know. He walked past me and rammed his shoulder into my body, flinging me about 3 foot. It was at that point that I got pissed. Up until this point, I was mildly irritated. I said "Ray, you can either leave, or I'll have your parole officer's name within 10 minutes and will get him or her on the phone AT HOME. Totally up to you...

Ray left. And he won't be back. See...that's stress relief for me. Where else can you be so obviously mean and evil as a bar, where you babysit full grown adults and keep them from killing each other? I like it.

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What else has been going on? Rio! Rio lets me pet him all over, lets me cradle him like a baby, now, and is actually taking seed and nuts from my lips. Have I told you lately how much I freakin' love that bird?!

The suicide deal.

I told you last week about a victim that had been missing that was found in the woods deceased. The truth is, he was found deceased in the woods with a gunshot wound to the head, two guns lying with him and his truck about 400 yards away. He drove up north 2 1/2 hours to do this, instead of going to close on his house, as originally planned.

Suicide is horrible, yes. That's a gimme. But, what's even more horrible is what the religions do to the family after a suicide.

A lot of religions will have you believe that if you should commit suicide that either a: Do not pass the pearly gates. Go straight to hell. There is no bond for such a crime. or b: Pergatory. Since you couldn't figure out your life while you were alive, you'll have the whole rest of eternity to do it while resting in neither hell nor heaven.

And, the families get to hear this. They also get to sit and contemplate what role they, themselves had in the suicide. Most suicide notes are very hard to read, very accusatory (even the ones that say "it's not your fault", since by saying that to the person implies that it needs to be said), and even if a note is not left, the family is generally consumed by guilt.

The family we're working with now is no exception. I'm so tired of religions making God out to be this dick who has nothing better to do with his time than to give us choice, and then contradict it by sending us to hell for making those choices. I don't believe that at all. What I believe is that he gave us free choice so that he could experience all and everything THROUGH us, and that in the end, he knows that we go back to him anyway. Period. It's really not a test, or a challenge...its just us living our lives the way we choose so that He can experience it all through us, and enjoy it because we made the choices that make those experiences.

What do you believe about suicide and where you end up?

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HNT Number: (I have NO idea)

For this week's submission, I thought I'd post a few pictures that my 6 year old took today, and at the very same time, show off Rio. God I love that bird.

A happy me, talking to Rio. I'm guessing it's all blurry because he was nodding his head in agreement with whatever I was talking to him about.


A NOT- happy me, explaining to this wise-ass bird why it's not ok to say "Fuck Jack. Fuck Jack" while my children stare at him, thinking he's the coolest being to ever exist on the planet. I have NO idea who Jack is. Other than my father in law, and to be fair, he hasn't even met him yet. Besides...it's only ok if I say that...not my bird. It's just bad etiquette.

Happy HNT, Y'all! Have a good one!

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Well...

One of our victims that went missing at the end of May was found deceased on Sunday by hunters. It's a sad, sad situation. We knew that it was a possibility that he would be deceased, but it's still never easy to accept. I got the call from familyMonday, and I got that it was a tentative positive ID from law enforcement today. We had the right idea of where to search. He was an avid hunter, and typically went to some family land up north. We went up north and searched a 300 acre property that he used to search on, and another family owned property that was much smaller later that night. We found nothing.

He was found 15 miles south of where we searched that property on state land. No foul play is suspected, nor do I expect that it will be in the future.

Our new neighbors are awesome. Heather and I went to Dairy Queen (Damn them. Damn them to hell!) tonight and had fun. It's really cool having neighbors you can knock on their door and say "Hey...whatcha doin? Wanna play cards?" or "I'm going to the store...you need anything?". I love it. I'm glad we held out until we found the ones we knew were right for the apartment.

Rio and I had a great time for his visit today. I spent about an hour and a half with him today. I snuck in, so he wouldn't see me because I wanted to just observe him when he didn't know I was there. That didn't work. I don't know if he knows my perfume, if he can just sense my presence or if he actually just is that observant that he could see me peeking at him between fishtanks from the row behind him. He starts flapping and going "Hi! Hi! Hello! Hi! Hey Mama!" LOL

I took him out and we went up and sat on the bench by Simon's cage. Simon is an Eclectus who belongs and travels with Kelly, the manager to work every day. Most birds want to be humans. Most actually believe they are humans. Not Simon. Simon wants to be Rio. Simon talks...but only says what Rio says. Kelly said she's been trying to get Simon to say "Simon" for the last three and a half years. Instead, he says "I'm Ri-Ri" or "Rioooooooo. Riooooooooo!" LOL All Simon wants out of life is to be a Macaw. He head bobs like Rio does, he tries to mimic all Macaw actions...poor bird. LOL

So, we sat by Simon today on the bench. Before long, we were sitting on the floor rolling his ball that I brought him back and forth. Turns out...Rio's afraid of little birds. A Lovebird got loose, and you would have thought all hell was breaking loose. Rio, whom was sitting on the floor next to me, climbed up, lifted my shirt with his beak, climbed under and sat there absolutely shuddering. I was softly talking to him and telling him that he shouldn't be afraid, I wouldn't let anything hurt him and that he should remember that he could chomp a lovebird in half with one flick of his beak. The only response he had was "Babies bite! Babies bite!"

He did end up doing a back step up for me today. That's cool. Sometimes, if he wants me to blow on his feathers or most recently, to pet him, he'll step on my left arm, and then turn to my left so that his back is to me. I said "Step Back, Rio" and he put his foot out behind him and let me go under his tail feathers ( a big no-no for predators) to take his foot and step up from behind.

I think I'm going to get a clicker training kit for him. He is so freakin' smart...I'm thinking I could have him doing cool stuff like rollerskating and card tricks in no time. Plus...if he's interested in all those cool tricks...he's less interested in screaming his green little head off or biting.

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He Let Me Pet Him!!!

Well...we had a major accomplishment today. Rio let me pet him. I did end up getting bit, but not until he let me scratch him down for a good half hour. When he got tired of it, he turned around and scraped the top of my hand hard with the point of his beak. But...the important part is that he was confident and comfortable enough to let me (the predator) put my hands on him (the prey).

It was awesome. Yesterday, he stepped up for both of my older boys. I didn't let them hold him long, but I coached them on what to do, how to handle it, and quietly talked to him and told him what we were doing. Both boys said "Step up!" and up he went.

I want that bird home TODAY. When I walked in to the pet store today, this lady was sticking her fingers in his cage and taunting him. He's screaming at the top of his lungs his warning cry, flapping his wings begging for her to go away. I marched right over and said "Just what do you think you're doing?" She said "I'm playing with this bird." I said "By playing you mean, scaring-the-hell-out-of, right?" She shot me a look that said I was a moron. She goes "Do you work here or something?" I said "Or something. That's my bird that you're terrorizing. Don't EVER just go stick your fingers in a cage like that when you don't know the bird. Unless of course you're not partial to them and you think of them as expendable. He could take your finger off if he got scared enough of you or felt intimidated enough." She said "I'm telling the owner you're mean." I said "Go for it. The owner will tell you that I'm dropping about three thousand dollars total in her store, and that if I want you to not poke my bird, that's my right." She walked away in a huff.

No wonder he was such a little prick when I first started working with him!

Dave, the awesome bartender that I've been working with turned out to be a psycho. Last night, I went in at 8:00 pm, taking over from his shift, which was from 12-8. He sat there for an "afterwork drink" (which...that concept I've never understood. You serve alcohol to people all day or night long. It reeks. Why the hell would you want to ingest it after you've watched people get drunk all day? I go HOME after work. I come read blogs after work. I come wrestle with my dog after work. I come kiss my kids after work...sleeping or not. I don't have a drink before doing any of those things.)

Anyway...One drink turns into five drinks which turns into shots of Grand Marnier and Zambvca to accompany the said drinks. He starts saying shitty things to customers, he starts calling Lauren (our male DJ) a "Nigger" (NOT cool.), he starts telling me how to do my job...and all of a sudden, I was intimidated. I let it get out of control. I should have cut him off and tossed him, and I'm not sure why I didn't. I think it was just the fact that he works there. Every word that comes out of his mouth is about how the bar is such a hole, that Chris, our boss, is such a bitch...and worse yet...he's saying this TO the customers. This is only about an 1/8th of what he did that night, but I was so pissed by the end of the night, he made drunk vampire girl from Friday night look like a Girlscout. He didn't hit me, but it was right around the corner.

I think it's more disappointing to find someone you thought was cool to be an asshole, than a regular run of the mill asshole. I'm going to say something to him on Wednesday night when I take over for the night. I'm just going to tell him that he gets his one after work drink and then I won't serve him after that because he's a prick. I'll try to approach it diplomatically, but...I'm not dealing with him again.

Chris (my boss) drove me home last night. The transmission went out in my car last week, and I don't like leaving Jas without a car with the boys here at night. So, he drives me, and usually either Chris or Lauren will bring me home. Otherwise...a cab is a phone call away. Anyway...she and I sat in my driveway for three hours. We talked about the violence. We talked about the problems of the bar, we talked about how to bring in new and more calm clientele...it was good. And, from now on, on Friday and Saturday nights, my neighbor Heather is going to watch the boys, and Mr. DK is going to come up and hang out from the time I go in, until it's time for me to go home. That's the agreement. She says I'm good at bartending and that the customers seem to really like me, and that I'm helping to keep the better patrons coming back. I told her, that while I do actually like it, I don't feel safe. So...now I get to bring my 6'7" bodyguard with me.

Oh! And, we finally rented out the apartment next door. Heather and Charlie are our new neighbors. They are both 25, have a 3 month old little girl named Alyssa, and thankfully, have jobs and are very normal. We've become fast friends, and we love having them as our new neighbors!

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Edited to ad a PS:

PS...You. Yes...YOU. The new front page of your site looks AWESOME. By far my favorite. The only gripe I have is that you need to add more pictures of YOU on your site. And comments. Turn your comments on. I won't use it, but others will.

Evil, Evil People.

Sometimes, the fodder from the bar can be amusing. Sometimes, it flat just pisses me off. This post is going to be a rant. I warn you ahead of time. I'm still pissed (a full 13 hours later) at the events of last night.

I'm not sure if I blogged about it or not. Frankly, I'm too tired, and too lazy and too PMS-ful to go look it up to see. LOL. My first Friday working, I cut a girl off, only to find her with a beer in her hand 15 minutes later. I asked her to leave. This will play into the story later on. Remember her. For a visual...think dyed black, stringily curly hair, tall, vampire white, skinny, jaw wobbling back and forth when she talks, and obviously a candidate for tubal ligation whether she already has kids or not.

Last night, we were at full capacity. At least I think we were at full capacity. She doesn't have a system in place to make sure we're not over crowded. To top it off, it was me and Dave, the OTHER new person. There were at least 150 people in the teensy little bar. We were kicking ass. I was quite pleased with how well Dave and I were working together. Dave's a good guy. He at one point owned his own bar, ended up retiring and selling, and decided in the long run that he loves bartending, and he loves the potential cash cow associated with bartending. If I haven't already specified, there is some money to be made. If you end up with a crowd like we had last night, you can easily pull in 150-200 bucks a night in tips, not counting your actual wage. Anywho...I'm not ranting about Dave. I adore working with Dave.

We've got a bouncer named Chuck. Chuck has got to be the dumbest person I've ever had the opportunity to get to know. It's not that he has ADHD. I can deal with chasing his ass around the bar making sure he does his job. It's his job to make sure that no one carries glass bottles or glasses to the patio. There's logic in this. We don't want to arm pissy drunks with glass shards to kill each other with. He's also to keep his eye out for prospective fights, keep an eye on slutty chicks dancing with everyone BUT her husband (so her husband doesn't end up postal), and if I cut someone off or ask someone to leave...it's his job to make sure they follow through with what I've asked. It's also his job to enforce all rules in the bar. He's 6'4" and looks intimidating enough, but if you take 2 seconds to talk to him, you learn quickly that he's not smart enough to SPELL the word Rules, much less enforce such a thing.

I go out to the patio to see what's going on. Every table in the bar was filled and there were 9 tables on the patio filled...regardless of the fact it was only about 40 degrees last night. Upon crossing the threshold to the patio, I immediately see 4 glass glasses, 2 glass bottles and even with the mother of all colds brewing in my sinuses, I can smell the distinct smell of marijuana.

I walk over and start pouring glasses into plastic cups and handing them back to their owners. I get close to the source of the marijuana and Mike, a regular who was actually trying to brown-nose to my boss and get me in trouble for pouring out his 1/8th of a glass of piss warm beer the other night says "You wanna hit?" I said..."Uh, no. I'm good." He says "You gonna go tell on me?" I said "Tell who? It's my bar tonight. You have two choices. Put it out, and get it out of my bar, or you can leave." He says "Ok."

20 minutes later, they're passing around a new one. I go seek out Chuck. I said "Chuck...you need to take care of the situation on the patio. I just pulled in six glass containers from there, and they're smoking bud out there. Deal with it." Chuck says "I already tried. They are my friends, and they won't listen."

This is where tizzy number one occurred. Chuck has been talked to over and over again about fraternizing with the patrons. I said, "Chuck, if you can't enforce the rules of the bar, then you can't do your job. If they're your friends, they won't be trying to get you fired from your job, which is EXACTLY what's going to happen if you don't get it out of here." He disengaged the blondes arms that were wrapped around him and headed for the patio. He came back in and said "They aren't listening." I said "That's it. You're not doing your job, I see no real reason why you should recieve a paycheck for tonight. Pull your shit together, Chuck or I'm going to tell Chris just that."

He launches into this whole "It's not a big deal" speech. But, for me, it IS a big deal. I work with law enforcement every day. My reputation and my career are on the line when someone thinks it's a good idea to bring illegal drugs into a social, heavily policed setting. It's not Chucks ass that's going to get a ticket, it's me and Dave, and more than likely our boss that will get slammed for allowing it. I explained this, and he tried to sweet talk me into not reaming his friends asses. I did it anyway.

Ok. Fast forward about an hour. The chick I referenced above (vampirish drug fiend looking girl) keeps coming to me and telling me that Ruthie, one of our regulars (who has been helping me with tables here and there all night, whom I've gotten to know fairly well, and who is also the best friend of the owner) is picking fights with her. I tell her that she must be mistaken, because Ruthie isn't that type of person. She's a very passive person. Next she comes up and tells me that Ruthie met her in the bathroom and says she's trying to get people together to beat this girl up.

I actually said "How old are you again? You ARE aware this is a public bar that adults frequent, and not your 9th grade dance, yes?" I told her that if she didn't quit with Ruthie, I was going to ask her to leave. She said not to worry, that they were heading out. So, I go pull Chuck and tell him to follow her out and make sure she leaves. Gut told me that she was looking for trouble.

Not 2 minutes later, I hear "Fight!" and the bar is trying to empty into our parking lot. I go stand at the door, trying to keep people in. I don't want a parking lot brawl. So far, she's out there taking swings at a customer that was trying to enter the bar.

Chuck, meanwhile is standing there with his hands on his hips, with a very confused look on his face. I said "Chuck! Get her the hell out of here!" Chuck says "How?"

I get between the two of them, send Michelle, the customer trying to get in, into the bar. She heads for the door, with a baffled expression on her face. She says "I was just walking to the door and she flew at me!" I said "I know, just go in and I'll buy you a beer in a few minutes."

Now, drunk girl is still standing there running her mouth. I walked up to her and said, "You need to leave. I am barring you until you speak with the owner, and even then, I doubt she's going to let you back in. Don't come back." And then...

The dumb bitch flies at me. She got a good hook into my jaw.

Now, under normal circumstances, I probably would have gone ape shit on her. I was immediately so pissed, I saw red. However, I know she's drunk. I know I'm sober, and I know she's not in her right mind. I very, very calmly said, "You need to leave, or I'm going to have you arrested." She comes at me again. All this time, Chuck is just standing there.

This time, she came at me to punch me and I dodged and grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back and with my left arm, put it over the front of her neck, cradling her head with my hand so she can't slam her head into my face.

I said "Chuck..this is your last chance to get her the fuck out of here, or you can go with her." Finally, he picks her up and takes her to her car. Her sister is driving (she hadn't been drinking and was so mortifyingly embarassed, she wouldn't even look at me.)

I went back in and my hands shook for a good 1/2 hour. It's not her hitting me I'm afraid of. I can handle that. Hell, I've got 4 brothers. It's the prospect of someone stupid like her bringing a weapon into the bar that scares me. And, the fact is, there's just no way of telling what they have on them or in their cars.

Poor Ruthie kept coming over and giving me hugs all night. She's a whole 5 foot tall and not a mean bone in her body.

I sat talking to the owner for almost three hours last night about how some shit needs to change if she hopes to keep the two new people on board. Between Dave and I, we've brought in some relatively decent patrons, and we did 2500 bucks last night between 9-2. That's more than she's grossed on any Friday night in the last year.

I am working tonight, and praying that some of the stuff we talked about is going to come into play. If not...Rio and his cage get paid for, and then I'm outta there.

PS...Jas's job is going awesome!

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