Green Apples From the Sky

Bejiggity

2006-04-21T04:19:00.000-04:00

That's about the only word I can come up with for what I've been lately. Bejiggity. I don't know what my damn problem is , but some would argue that my head is shoved so completely far up my ass, that it's going to be years behind in tanning up with the rest of my body.

Work has kept me quite busy. Between jobs one and two, I haven't a whole lot of time for much else. Normally, this would be delightful in the world of me. But lately, it's just...I don't know...tiresome. Mundane. Not quite what I had pictured for myself at the age of 30. I didn't realize that I've got the "I-Just-Turned-30-Blahhhs" until someone who knows me quite well pointed out that my problem was exactly that about a week - maybe week and a half ago. But...you know what? That's exactly what my problem is.

I'm 30 years old. In my 30 years, I've accomplished what? On the bright side, I've got 3 awesome boys. A husband whom adores me. A non-profit organization that I built from the ground up that while it's successful in it's mission by most public standards, isn't as stable as I would like for it to be. I've loved so hard my heart literally broke right in two. And, I've managed to live without it, too. I've got THE coolest bird in the universe. (Go Rio) I've met some of the greatest people a girl could ever call a friend, and been able to do just that.

But, still, I'm not where I think that I should be at the ripe old age of 30. I don't own my home. I'm not in a position where I even want to own a home right now, as I have absolutely no freakin' clue what I'm doing next month, much less in 10 years. Yet, at the same time, I feel that I owe it to my kids to provide the stability that owning your home provides. In a perfect world, it would be in the country, with a good 10 acres to toss some horses out on them. But...do I do that here, or do I do it in North Carolina?

Do I even want to go to North Carolina? The point of that is to help further the Org along by providing some much needed relief to my NC Director. She needs help. The other point of that is that there are jobs down there. Real, true, get-your-paycheck-at-the-end-of-the-week jobs for Jason. Here, there are not. He went from making almost 50k a year, getting laid off with a bunch of his other co-workers, to now working at Target (for Chrissakes) to making a whopping 19k a year. That's not ok. That's not ok at all. And, this is the best thing that Jackson, Michigan has to offer. There are no shop jobs. There are no blue collar jobs for the experience he's got. And, it's killing us. People are literally fighting to keep their heads above water here. It's not just us...it's everyone. I hear the same story day in and day out at the bar. "Just got laid off", "been downsized", yada-yada-yada.

So, do we make a move we can't afford to make all the way to North Carolina? It's warmer. It's nicer. It's beautiful. There are jobs. I have friends there. Sure...we could do it. It'd be cheaper to live, and chances are he'd be paid more for a job he doesn't hate.

But...then I have to take into account that all of my family, and all of my real, true, honest to goodness friends, are right here. In Michigan. Sure it's colder than hell 70% of the year. I hate snow. I don't even call it snow...I call it white shit. And, I've earned the right to call it that with all the backbreaking hours I've put in shoveling it out of my driveway. I hate a lot of things about this place, but it's home. And no matter where I go, it will always BE home.

Ugg.

Maybe we should look for a different city here in Michigan that has a better job market. Jas is planning to go back to school in the fall, and he's young enough to do it and do it quickly. He's almost done with his bachelors anywho...so it wouldn't take much time.

I don't freakin' know. All I know is that a lot of the goals that I had set for me and my family...haven't exactly been reached. I have some shit to do, and Lord help me if I don't start accomplishing some of it. I'm 30. Officially, the training wheels are off. I don't have the "Well...I'm still young" excuse anymore. I'm not a kid anymore, and there's no mistaking that I'm responsible for my own actions, my own mistakes, and my own failures.

I've always said that the only person that can shape my future is me. I guess it's time I start figuring out what that's going to be. The "When I grow Up, I'm gonna be a _____________" fill in the blank sheet should have an answer in it by now. I'm pretty sure mine didn't say "Bartender".

sdk

Loooooong, Boring Night...

2006-04-06T03:25:00.000-04:00

Tonight was another long, boring night at the bar. After my pool leagues, there was literally 7 people in there, the entire night. Normally, a Wednesday night would be slammed, but we weren't tonight. But...the people who WERE there, were just FUCKING demanding.

Like, for instance, Mandy. Mandy was schnaukered. Just sloshed. And, everytime I tried to make or take a call, to say my boss, or to a friend who needed me to talk to her tonight, Mandy would scream my name at the tip-top of her lungs for my undivided attention. I wanted to smack her. And I may have entertained that idea if she didn't outweigh me by a good 200 pounds and a foot up. Grrr.

Pool leagues were interesting. There's this guy, Will. Will is a nice enough guy, a little on the slow side, but his looks outweigh his lack of common sense at first glance. Anywho, Will sat there tonight, asking me about my kids and my husband. I told him that the boys were doing well, Alex was on spring break, Logan's learning to walk, yada, yada, yada. I told him Jas was home with the boys and is just plugging away at work, getting ready for the move, etc. Right...?

So, Will pops up with: "So, do you think you and I could go out sometime before you leave?" I said "Well..., *ahem*, Will. What time is your girlfriend picking you up?" He says "Oh...I don't know, she should be here in a little bit. She was Pee-issed that I was talking to you last week after pool leagues. You should have heard her all the way home. She was mad!"

I try to defer to another subject. "So, how's work going? Take down any major trees after the tornado? My parents house got hit." A tornado hit Friday, my parents house was trampled by it, and Will works for a tree removal business, and has been slammed after some of the rough weather we've been having. Normally, this would lead him off to the extremes of his work, and I would get to be entertained by near-death experiences he's had whilst on the job, right? Uh huh...NO.

"So, I'll write down my number for you, and you call me. We'll go to the casino or something. That'll be fun. Can you get out for an entire night? You have to remember to NEVER, EVER call me after 4:30 pm. She'll find out and I'll be dead."

I took the poor boy's phone number, waited until he and Sophie, his girlfriend were gone and then tossed it.

Do I have "Slutty-Man-Tender" Written somewhere on my forehead? Is it there? Good Lord. Ask how my children are doing and then in no uncertain terms ask me to cheat on him. Puh-lease. There's a relationship made in heaven, don't you think?

I'm tired. Really tired. I haven't gotten much sleep the last few nights and it's killing me. I can feel myself getting sick, AGAIN. My 30th birthday is Saturday, and I really didn't want to get sick for it. I'm trying to drink lots and lots of OJ and to keep just ahead of it. I'm workin' on it...

sdk

Off to listen to some sappy music and think a lot.

We're Moving.

2006-03-30T03:42:00.000-05:00

To North Carolina.

So...here's the story...

As you all know (or should know by now if you've been reading me for any length of time) I founded and serve as Program Director of a Missing Persons Organization.

About 6 or 8 months after I founded the org, I got a call from a woman who had been in the industry for 25 years and wanted to open her own branch of our org. She was certainly qualified, she was sweet as pie, and we hit it off pretty much right off the bat. Her name is Jackie.

Jackie started the North Carolina Branch of the org in 2003. Within the first six months she made national headlines with two major cases that she worked. One of the missing persons that she represented was her godson whom was abducted from the home that he lived in with his Aunt and Uncle.

Anywho, Jackie has continued to make leaps and bounds throughout the industry, and is getting swamped with work. To top it off, she's at retirement age and would like to be able to do just that: retire.

Jas and I really have nothing here holding us back. We have talked about this at great lengths. Michigan is not the place you want to be if you have spent any respectable amount of time at a job only to get laid off with the rest of the pack (like Jas did last year). We are, I believe, if not the highest, amongst the highest in unemployment statistics in the country. Jobs are not out there. GM has laid off most of it's employees. Same thing with all the other shops. Jas worked for Spartan Motors for 3 years only to be tossed to the side with 50 other employees on the same day. He went from making great money to having to find a job, and then eating some big fat crow and taking a job for right around 8 bucks less than what he was making at Spartan.

To top it all off, upon doing some research on North Carolina...the cost of living is quite a bit less than what it is here. We pay 700/month for rent. This house isn't great. Hell, I wouldn't even call it nice. It's a house. An old house, with a dipshit for a landlord. It's an old victorian home that's split into two homes (commonly referred to as a Duplex). For the 700/month we pay here, we could live in a brand spankin new 4 bedroom, 2 bath, fully fenced in back yard, no snow, lots of sunshine, beautiful home in North Carolina.

Jobs...I looked at the newspaper in the city where we're headed to? Yeah, 9 pages of ads, with 50 ads on each page. And they're not bullshit jobs either. They are real jobs, with real paychecks that come attached to them should you get the said job.

I'm getting excited. And, if it sucks...we can always come home.

I've never lived out of state before. But, we're going to a town where we know people, where my org is already successful, where we already have a staff of 350 volunteers that are regular and reliable...

What more could we ask for?

sdk

I am a Cheating Whore.

2006-03-21T23:01:00.000-05:00

Hello, my name is Shannon, and I am a literary cheater. (Collective "Hi Shannon" with understanding nods comes in from the crowd.)

I did it. I cheated on Frodo with Sandford. I'm just not a strong charactered person. It's true. Last night, I was lying there reading, trying my damndest to stay awake so that I could get up and get Alex on the bus at 6, and Two Towers was boring the shit out of me. I kept glancing at the perfect series, neat and in order in all of it's used glory on my bookshelf at the end of my bed. Mentally, I'd chew myself out, and go back to reading about Frodo's trek to Mordor. Then, I'd start nodding off again, and snap myself out of it, and glance at the series again. So, I got up, you know...just for the sake of looking to see which ones I'd already read. I had read the first 3 of the series, the 5th, and the 6th. The 4th had the return serial killer, Michael Bekker from the 3rd. Bekker's a sonofabitch. But, and here's where I started to falter...he is an interesting sonofabitch. Indeed, a good fast paced maniacal killer will keep me awake! So, there I sat, justifying in my pathetic mind why it was ok to put Tolkien down and pick up a Prey novel by John Sandford. Sandford and I have HISTORY. I owe Tolkien nothing. Nothing! I made the weak knee'd decision to put Frodo down and leave him for when I was reading to try to sleep, instead of when I was reading to try to stay awake. I suck. Yeah, yeah. I know, I suck. Thanks for driving the point home.

So...you want to freak out a gas station attendant? Walk in with a huge macaw on your arm, and then have him alarm cry at the tip top of his lungs to let you know that she's there in front of you -- all before she's had the chance to look up and notice that you have a mammoth bird on your arm. Great fun, I tell ya. I probably wouldn't do this to anyone who looks over 50. With the reaction from the under 25 crowd, I'm thinking the over 50 crowd may want to have some angina medication on hand...just in case.

American Idol put on a decent show tonight. I'm an addicted junkie. It's true. People at the bar know pretty much to get their drinks during commercial on Wednesday night during the elimination show.

Here's my picks for the top 4...

I think that Chris Daughtry will probably end up at 1 or 2 spot. The trouble with him is that I think he's getting cocky. The good thing about him is that he brings originality to the cast, and he's his own person. I dig him, and I'll likely dig whatever he puts out after the show is over and he's got a contract in hand.

Katherine McPhee is an obvious choice for the top 1/2 spots. Either or, she'll end up with a fabulous career that I look forward to following in the future. She's got both the screen and the stage mastered, now if we could only teach the poor dear how to dress...

Mandisa....that chick can WAIL. I know that she's not all teensy tiny like everyone likes to see, but was Aretha ever built like a Barbie doll? I think not. She'll be in the 3rd spot.

And, Kelly Pickler, because lets face it...she's just too damn cute to pass up. Mynx: LMAO...she thought a Mynx was a fur coat!

Who I hate? Chicken Little...er....that Kevin kid. He's just effin' irritating to me. I can't stand his little ass, and Ace Young. Ace is a spitting image of what my 6 year old's biological father looks like, and well...I didn't like him much either.

Off to shamelessly read Sandford...

sdk

Kisses, Waves, Step-Ups and Sunflower Seeds...

2006-03-20T02:43:00.000-05:00

These are what we trained for today. It's not exactly the Olympics, but...it is important to us.

Rio has started his training regimen. I finally figured out a good teensy treat that I can use to reward him with that doesn't take 10 minutes for him to get down, and that I can buy in bulk. Sunflower seeds. Beautiful.

So, I started out with him on my arm, and asked him to do "Ladders". Ladders is me requesting him to step up from one arm to the next, over and over and over again. For each "Step-Up" on to my arm, he gets a sunflower seed. He did this perfectly, but to be fair, he's been doing this since week one of us meeting, but not always with treat. This was me trying to ease him into the routine of performing the trick, getting the reward and moving onto the next trick.

This is also helping to get him to step up for me whenever I ask, instead of just when he feels like doing it. Because, lemme tell you...if he doesn't feel like it, the gigantasaur pinch I recieve on my arm instead of birdy feet...HURTS LIKE HELL.

After about 30 repetitions of the Ladders, I started throwing in a kiss. I'd do a ladder, then say "Can I have a kiss?" and then I'd pucker up. In return, I'd get a beak on the lips, and he'd get a sunflower seed. Nice...it was working.

I threw in about 10 of those inbetween ladders, and then introduced his "Wave". His wave is actually me saying "Get Ri-Ri's Toes!" where then he'll put his foot up for me to play with. Instead of playing with it, I'd go "HI RI-RI!!!" In my super-duper high pitched girl voice, and then reward him. So, now, when I say "HI RI-RI!" He waves at me with his foot. Sweet, right? We did this about 20 times.

Then about half way through the training session, when he was rewarded with the sunflower seed, he goes "MMMMmmmmmm!" So, of course, I had to reward him twice, because when he uses words in context, he should get a reward for it! He quickly learned that by telling me "MMMMmmmmmm!!!" got him an extra treat. So, for the second half of the training session, he got two treats per trick. He's not a dumb animal. He may be even a little smarter than me, I think...

So, after we were finished, we had trained for about an hour and a half, and I had to go get ready for work. So, I put him in his cage, thinking... "Sweet. We just had a perfect training session and he's happy, I'm happy...that was really cool."

I put him on his cage, then went to the kitchen to grab some apples, grapes, snap peas and sprouts to toss into his fresh foods dish, and I changed his water and replaced it. I asked him to step up for me, and he freakin' DOVE at me! The little bastard tried to bite me, and bite me hard. There was no body language to suggest that I had done something to offend him. Sure...he wanted to be on me and I had other things to do...but I want a million dollars and I'm not exactly biting anyone because I'm pissed about it, now am I? What the hell?

So, I make him go to bed (I tell him "Go to bed!" in a stern voice when he's in trouble and this prompts him to go inside his cage.) and I go about filling his fresh foods dish with his dinner. The entire time I'm doing this, he's striking the cage, much like a bully tries to make the wimpy kid flinch. He was trying to get at me. He was being a BAD BOY. I told him to quit or that I'd cover his cage and he'd have to go to sleep....

From 7pm on, his little ass was covered tonight. And, from 7pm until the time I left, he was calling for me, only to get the response "Mommy doesn't play with birds who bite! GO TO SLEEP!" every time.

I'm hoping that it was just because he was wiped out from training for so long. I'll have to see if shorter training sessions will change the outcome of his behavior after the session. If not, maybe he can hang out on me for a while after the session ends, and THEN go back to his cage. I don' t know... We'll see who wins this battle...

Ow. Ow. Ouch. OUCH. OWWWCH. BLLLLAAAAAAHHHHHH!

2006-03-19T03:32:00.000-05:00

The title of this post is what I awoke to hearing this afternoon about an hour after I laid down to take a "cat-nap". I thought one of my children had injured themselves and was dying.

Nope...not it.

It was Rio. Apparently, Rio has bitten someone at some point (or at least I am surmising this to be true) and they tried to be calm and collected about the pain that he was inflicting, but as it increased, so did their volume until finally they screamed like a little girl who had just lost her lollipop.

He did this little phrase about 30 times before he finally started what I like to call his "Mu-Ha-Ha" laugh. "Mu-Ha-Ha" is short for "Evil, Spawn of Satan, I've just done something really bad and you're about to enjoy the reward of my deed". Yes, indeed, I have seen that side of him.

But, for the most part, he was in a jovial mood all afternoon. I awoke this morning to him standing on my chest, working on that little stain (teensy mole) on my cheek. Jas must've gotten tired of him calling for me and finally brought him upstairs and delivered him to my bed. Next to my pillow I found a small pile of almonds still in the shell to occupy him that Jas must've put there for him. He's such a good boy that he even took them to the side of my bed to eat them, as all the discarded shell casings and the brown little "skin" that goes on the outside of the almond were in a neat pile on the floor next to my bed.

Today was my youngest child, Logan's birthin' day today. He's officially been breathing oxygen for one full year. Some of his other feats include: pulling himself up and cruising between furniture and toys, saying "Mama!", "Dada", Ala (which is not our God, but our 6 year old, Alex) and "No!", he's licked that whole binky habit (we're anti-binky...there's nothing more irritating to me than to see a 3 or 4 year old child with a damn pacifier in his/her mouth...I just want to smack those parents...), he's on to sippy cups, and he's graduated to actually leaving his clothes ON his body for longer periods than an hour! (I thought for sure I had birthed a Chipendale there for a while...)

We did the whole cake and ice cream thing...took video. Good time. Sam, our 3 year old actually made comment on how messy his baby brother was. "Maaaan! Mom! You should teach that kid how to eat. It's in his hair, and I just KNOW that stuff isn't good for hair." My 3 year old is a bit of a smart ass. Not at ALL sure where he got THAT from...

What else? Oh...at the end of this post, you will find a bunch of answers to questions that have recently been asked of me. If you have no idea what they go to or why I'm writing them...then never-you-mind. LOL...The person they are intended to go to knows exactly who they are.

Ohhh...I know what I was going to say before I get to that. I'm PISSED. Why am I pissed, you ask? Well, because I'm a spoiled little brat. That's why I'm pissed. About a month ago, I bought a lot of 18 books by John Sandford on e-bay. It literally felt like it was taking forever and a day for them to arrive, right? So, I start reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy, thinking that would speed the wait time up, make it go faster...you know the drill. Well, today, my books arrive, and here I am, and I'm only 3/4 of the way through the second book in the trilogy. This makes me mad! I WANT to read the new books. But, I'm morally obligated to finish the trilogy that I started before the new books got here. Otherwise, in the strange little world of me, that's cheating. Cheating, I say! And, we can't very well have that. I'd feel guilty the entire time I was reading the new books. Damn you Frodo. DAMN YOU!

Ok. SO. That's that. I won't even give you a bunch of bullshit excuses for why I haven't written for so long. You know why I haven't written for so long. Because I had other stuff to do. I get to it as soon as I can, and you, loyal readers know that. Thanks for stickin' with me...

sdk

Answers...

I don't know why. But, I do too. Frequently, in fact. You are making a mistake in thinking that it was your fault. It wasn't your fault at all, but instead just the way the cards fell. I can't justify it anymore than I can sit here and tell you that all that was there is gone. I'm no good at justifying something I know in my heart and my mind will never, ever make sense to me. I quit trying and just accept that you are who you are, I am who I am, and that together we're always going to be that person for each other. You do that for the same reasons I do. Because you know that I'll get it, I know you'll get it, and it's all we have left. Sad, but it is. We're not strong enough to be around each other or speak to each other, so we do this instead. I don't think it hurts less, or anything like that, but it just lets each other know that we're still there, and really, still there as much as we can be for each other. Everything we did, except for the last thing was right. Why? I don't know. Because we ARE that for each other. Right. If you were the only one, we wouldn't still be having the same thoughts and feelings on the 6th year. You are not the only one, you never have been and you never will be. You know why I've never come. And you know why I can't now. You absolutely do. Every day, in fact. The picture was perfect. PERFECT. What WAS I thinking? Enough would imply that the distance that's been put between us is over. So, no. Not enough. But I do, as much today as ever. You're no fool. You're anything but. I would have to say that you are the most intelligent person I've ever known, but a fool? No. Crazy or Pathetic? Crazy...well, maybe a little. But, if you weren't, you would've never been attracted to me. Talk about insanity...and ABSOLUTELY NOT on the next. Can I be greedy and choose both? Why not get everyone and GO to Vegas? I'm sorry, but I can't answer that today. You're the only one who's ever gotten that answer. It's never been just you. I've always been there 50% in this with you. Rules suck. That's just the way it is. It's a rule in fact... and Dear Lord, I hope not. I look forward to the day I get to see your face and hear your laugh and just be in the same room with you again. I hope this isn't the way it will always be.

That's what I'd say if we were on speaking terms. Thanks on the birthin' day. He's cute as hell!

Schmoopy Lyrics: In case you're all depressed and need inspiration...(I'm feeling schmoopy...)

2006-03-02T04:56:00.000-05:00

Alone in this house again tonight
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine
There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me
The way that it was and could have been surrounds me
I'll never get over you walkin' away

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough to let got of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

Would it help if I turned a sad song on
"All By Myself" would sure hit me hard now that you're gone
Or maybe unfold some old yellow lost love letters
It's gonna hurt bad before it gets better
But I'll never get over you by hidin' this way

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough to let got of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough to let got of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

I'm a nice girl.

2006-03-02T04:12:00.000-05:00

I am. Truly.

Tonight, I watched Milton, a 23 year old regular sit at my bar, minding his own business, drinking his Captain and Coke get molested by Michelle. Michelle is a 30-something (damn near 40 something) bar-whore who fancies herself one hot piece of tail. Michelle would be a hot piece of tail if she had one ounce of self respect. But...she doesn't.

Michelle's not an ugly girl. Not at all. She's actually very cute. Nice body, cute face. Decent smile. Dresses nicely...

I've been the main bartender and manager of that bar for 7 months. I've worked there for what? 9 months, I think? Since I started, I cannot tell you how many mens tonsils I've actually had the displeasure of watching Michelle's tongue seek out. And...this is rather disgusting to me. One time, I remember seeing her literally (and I'm so not kidding) climb onto an old dude's lap, wrap her legs around his body, and lick his face.

This gets her drinks. A lot of them. Men actually fall for her crap and purchase drinks in mass quantity for her. And, rather than being decent about it and ordering a 3 dollar shot, she always tells them she's expensive and makes them buy her $6.00 Jager-Bombs. (Which, for the non-bar-going readers is a shot of jagermeister in a small shot-glass, dropped into a straight glass of Red Bull).

So, Milton...anyways, she gets up and goes to the bathroom and Milt says "Shan...that chick won't leave me ALONE. She keeps putting her hands under my shirt, and she won't leave me alone!" I said "Milt...next time she says or does anything uncomfortable, tell her to watch it because you don't want your girlfriend to get pissed and jealous and point at me. She won't know any differently."

So, about three minutes later (she was in the bathroom for 2 of them) she says "Hey, Shannon. Come'ere." I said "Yeah, Michelle. Whatcha need?" She says "Aren't you married?" I said, "Yeah? So?" She says "Well, Milton says that he's dating you and that I better watch it. I said that your husband's huge and that Milton better watch it." I said "Yeah, well...if you feel froggy...jump. You threatening to tell my husband about my relationship with Milton?" She says " I won't if you'll let me take him home with me tonight." I said "I'll tell him myself tonight. Milton's mine. Hands off." (mind you, this entire time, Milt's got a Cheshire grin on his face.) She says "Well, I'll just call him now." I said "You want his cell number, or will you call him on the land line?" with a cocky grin. She says "You're a bitch. I like it."

And with that, gets up, and moves to another table with 3 other men. Within a whopping 2 minutes, the big hairy, tatoo'd biker grandpa that she sat next to was ordering her two Jager-bombs.

Ick.

Well...at least we know that when we're old and wrinkly, there'll still be the Michelle's of the world to keep us warm at night...

One last thought on it...wouldn't she make more money if she went out and found herself a corner?

sdk

Hidey-Ho!

2006-03-01T02:11:00.000-05:00

Mr. Rio's got a mouth on him, doesn't he? That boy...man.

You know how you....welllllll wait. Maybe I'm the only one who does this. Do you ever look at your animals, watch your animals and see them with human characteristics? Like I know someone who told me that their cat speaks (or if he could speak, anyway he would) with an English accent. Murphy...she sounds like a hyper-active doofus in my mind. And, Rio...he's a smart-ass. Except, with Rio, I really do get to hear what's on his mind, and most of the time, it ain't remotely close to being pretty.

In his homecoming post, he spoke of being locked away for potty language. This is a problem, a very real, very interesting problem. And...remember how he said he liked Jason? Yeah...well...at FIRST he liked Jason. Now...not so much. Now, if Jas so much as walks past his cage, Rio's doing all he can to get a hold of him. And, Jas is jealous and pissed about it. Alex, my 6 year old can walk right up to Rio's cage, pet him, scratch his head and tickle him. Jas, on the other hand, cannot. If he walks up to Rio's cage, Rio's going for maximum pain. It's not pretty.

I'm going to have to move his cage upstairs because he's getting awfully damn protective of it, and I don't want him anywhere near it unless he's supposed to be sleeping. But, for that to happen, Jas has to build me the ceiling-hangy-thing so that I can install his hanging gym. I'm looking for that to happen sometime next weekend, but won't be shocked at all if I end up climbing my butt up there and doing it myself because, well...Jas isn't exactly a handy-man sort - if you know what I mean.

Lemme see...what else has happened this week. I got new furniture that I bought on e-bay. Spectacular find, really. Here's the story. Dude likes girl. Dude asks girl to marry him. Dude marries girl. Dude and girl move in together and buy allllll brand spankin' new furniture from Art Van. New livingroom set, new bed, new table...new everything. 2 months later, Dude realizes that chick is psycho, and anulls the new marriage. Dude tosses all the new stuff he JUUUUST bought, into a storage facility. Fast forward 6 years, and dude puts all that stuff up on ebay. I ended up with all of it for 500 bucks. I'll have to take some pictures of it. It's really cute. Bed is realllly comfy (I SOOO needed a new bed). It's a pillowtop queen sized bed. Came complete with a Ralph Lauren comforter and sheet set that wasn't even out of the bags. Still had the price tags on it. That comforter ROCKS. The couch and chair are beige and tan, they're sorta plaid, I guess with a billion throw pillows, extra pillows that go to the back of it, and then side throw pillows. And the table, which I originally bought as a house warming present for a friend who just moved into his new house (he said it's too girly for him) is a mohogany pedestal table with a leaf that can be taken out, and I've presently got it in my livingroom with pictures set all over it. Hell yeah! LOL That's just good stuff.

And...today I got an hour long full body massage. A friend of mine is in school for massage therapy, of the sport variety. In order to graduate, he has to have 70 clients this semester. So, Chris and I went over today, as promised to be guinea pigs for him.

Lemme just say that when you have a male friend, especially, a HOT male friend, you have some interesting hang-ups about getting all naked in front of him in broad daylight so that he can touch every crevice of your body....

That being said, it was really, really cool. Never at any point was it uh...inappropriate, and it was all in all a good deal. Good enough that we're going back next week. And...on an upnote: the spot that was numb in my back, actually has feeling again. Whatever it was...he fixed it today. Bonus!

sdk

Rio's Homecoming Photo Journal: Commentary by Rio...

2006-02-21T23:14:00.000-05:00

Ok...so, as you all know, my mommy is a leeeeetle psycho about me. I mean...seriously...can we say stalker? So, I've decided for her that I'm going to take control of this little project and tell you what was REALLY going on the day she abducted me from the only home I've ever truly known... I'd say that's fair. I mean, if you think about it, yeah...she's dealing with a bird now, and it's a big change...yada, yada, yada. Think about ME. I grew up at the Pet Station. Kelly, Dee, Chuck, Jeff, LouAnn and the other birds...they raised me. I've been around other birds my whole life. So, here comes this chick (now known as Mommy) and we sort of click. Next thing I know, she's spending all her time with me, and like any male would...I'm diggin' it. What I didn't know was that she intended to uproot my entire existance as I know it. Now there's kids. I don't really understand kids. They seem important to her, so I'm trying really hard not to rip their pert little noses off. The dog. You know what? I don't even want to talk about the FUCKING dog right now. I'm pissed enough that I'll start using what mommy calls my "Potty Language"...and then I'll just be put in Birdy-Prison and that's not cool... The hubster seems pretty cool. I mean...cooler than I thought he was going to be anyways...he's nice to me, talks to me...anyways...it's all good.

Here's the pictures.

She's snappin' pics while I'm trying to preen my favorite little rope toy. Hey...ropes need love too. I think she's getting getting around all my stuff at this point, trying to tell me it's "all gonna be ok..." Uh huh. Yeah...Riiiiiigggghhhht.

This is my stuff. On the left you'll see a big ass bag of pellets. You can toss those...I do. I eat real food. And when I say real, I don't mean pre-packaged bird crap. I'm not a bird. I mean...sure, I LOOK like a bird, but at heart...I'm all human. I like pasta, I'm a HUGE fan of tacos, and I suppose I should throw in that if you insist on treating me like a bird, Walnuts and Pecans are a fan favorite...

Anywho...those little bags of stuff...yeah. $150 bucks worth of toys for me. I'll have her trained in no time. Those toys will last me about...ohhhhh...two weeks? Maybe a month? She'll learn to either be crafty and make me toys herself, or that she likes bartending enough to get a few more jobs...

The pet carrier...we'll get to that in a minute. I did mention that I'm NOT a pet, yes?

I'm saying Ciao to Marshall in this fine picture. That little shit's sorta grown on me. From what I understand though, he'll be going through the hell that is my existance soon enough...except he's got the KIDS to look out for him. Bwaaaaahahahahahahahahahaha. Sucker!

Mom says that we can't play together. It's really stupid, if you ask me. Apparently, she saw some picture in BirdTalk Magazine where a Macaw ripped off an Eclectus's beak. Something about me having a birdy-tude and not trusting me? Seriously...I'd only do it if he REALLY pissed me off...

Mommy acts like this paper is made of silver bells and walnut meat or something. She guards it with her LIFE. What I'm not completely understanding is why she nearly freaked out when I reached out and grabbed it out of her hands right after she took this picture of me. She spazzed all out, got on her hands and knees and scooped it up to give to Kelly, the Manager of the store. Kelly made some comment about the second mortgage finally being paid off or something? I dunno. I think it might have something to do with this stuff for why Marshall still gets to hang out at my old home...they talked about it a lot. Mommy growled when she heard the number that she has to meet for Marshall to come home. She looks mean when she growls...

This is the pet carrier I was telling you about. There's no perch in here. There's no food dishes in here. I am faaaaar from being a happy camper right now. Then, THEN...I finally get to go outside and see what it looks like out there and do you know what those insensitive pricks did?! They covered my whole carrier up with a towel. And they wonder why I bite...

I'm home. Mommy bought my cage that I'm used to so I wouldn't TOTALLY freak out. (as if...) She has hung all my new toys up, and I'm actually kind of diggin' it. This is the first few minutes I was home, after she got my toys hung up. She took me for a tour of the house, but honestly, I don't remember a helluva lot because, well...frankly I was petrified out of my mind. I'm a calm perso....uh, bird, but seriously folks...what would you do faced with this situation. Prison for your whole life, then being given the run of a big ole' house? I was scared. I'm coming around though...slowly but surely.

This is my freakazoid dog, Murphy. In this picture, she's sporting her new collar (that matches her leash) that she got as a consolation "You've been replaced by the hottest creature to fly the planet in at least 4 years" present. Her eyes say she wants to eat me. Her drool suggests that in a timeline that would make her happy...that time would be RIGHT NOW. I'm a prey-animal...I instinctively know these things. Trust me. She's so picturing me between bread.

So, in response to her longing look, this is the look I give her. It's my "Who's the bitch Now" stance. You like? Mommy calls it "ScaryBird". She mocks me. She's all..."Ooooh. Who's mommy-wommie's big scawee birdy? Is Ri-Ri mommies big scawy birdy?" I've learned not to say what I really think because she either puts it on video, or puts me in my cage and says that I have to watch my "Potty Language" around the kids. What she can't understand is that I'll get that damn dog if it's the LAST thing I do...

I think we can all agree that I'm just dead sexy all soak and wet. This is my first shower at home. I freakin' LOVE the shower. It's warm. It's comfy. It's like what my wild-caught friends tell me the rain forest is like...it's awesome. Mommy's all freaked out about making sure her "pieces-parts" are edited out of all the photos. Dad took these ones. Mom kept yelling at him to "Stay focused!" I'm pretty sure she was talking about making that camera-thingy work...

I'm so auditioning for the Chirpendales Calendar for 2007. I'm so hot....

And that's it for pictures so far folks...but stick around. She's a picture takin' fool when it comes to me...like I said, she's a bit obsessed I think. I like things around here for the most part, with the exception of the bleepin' dog. I haven't bitten anyone, and I'm trying to see just how many buttons they'll let me push right now just to see what the pecking order is. I guess in the end, all that will matter is that the stupid dog...is at the bottom of it!!!

Beaks and Feather Hugs...

Rio

Up all night...LOL

2006-02-21T05:59:00.000-05:00

So, I've been sickly-sickly. When I was a kid, we'd try to get out of going to school with a phrase that sounded something like "Bamba -- Ohmmm Seeick". That's how I'm feeling right now. I'm done puking (FINALLY), but on top of the flu, I apparently got bronchitis too. I ended up being sent home early from the bar on Friday night because I spent two hours of my shift in the bathroom hovering over the toilet (ewww...). Apparently, it's not good for business when your manager keeps disappearing into the bathroom for extended periods of time...

So, yes...Rio is home. It was an awesome homecoming...I have PLENTY of pictures to show you, but I've been up all night long with Alex (whom is now in the puking stage of HIS sickness) and well...it's 6am and I'm wiped out. So, I'll post them when I get up. I don't have to work tonight, so I should have plenty of time to show them to you.

I bought the new Sprint PPC-6700 Pocket PC Phone. I figured...sweet. New Windows 5.0 operating system...completely syncs with my pc, can get my mail from anywhere...can access my computer from anywhere and can edit all of my Microsoft Office apps from anywhere...right?

Yeah...I HATE it. So, last night, I was in the middle of a liquor order, on the phone. It's a touch screen, just like any regular PDA. During the call(s), my earring put it on speaker phone, hung up on the sales rep, dialed some random person at 2:30 am, and then called and got my grandma out of bed...

Then, it's backlight shut off, and since it's a touch screen with no actual buttons for your numbers (after all it IS a phone...), I couldn't see to dial it. No amount of monkeying around with the start menu, settings, or even a soft-reset fixed it. Finally, I got pissed, slammed it against the bar and it came back on.

The little bastard is on its way back to the store. I sent it to work with Jas, and he's exchanging it for the Sprint Blade -- Sprint's answer to the Razr. I was all excited about the little keyboard on the ppc-6700...and honestly, I can say I'll miss that part of it. I do A LOT of text messaging. But, the rest of it...I want a phone first and a PDA second. It would be awesome if they could be in the same little device, but I need something I can shove in my pocket and actually do some work with. I don't have time (or the finesse) to massage an electrical piece of shizen's already overly stimulated ego to make it work.

When it rings...I want to answer the damn thing. When it's in my pocket, I don't want my grandma to be talking to my underoos...

More when I get up...

sdk

I'm Icky-Sick.

2006-02-17T03:08:00.000-05:00

Yeah...coughin', pukin', the usual. I actually called Brian in to cover for me last night, and then tonight decided to go in regardless of the fact I'm still sick. (Rio comes home in the morning, and I figured I can be just as miserable at work as I can at hom, and it would pass the time quicker...) My boss called. She said "So...you just had a 24 hour bug or what?" I said "No...I'm still not really, uh...processing anything through my body. I'm still sick." She said "Sweet. So, you're sick, and waiting on customers?" I said "Yep. If they cared about germs, Chris...they wouldn't come here..." She said "Good point." I love my job.

I keep going back and forth between being sick and being almost sick. Last week...I got all body-achy and stuffed up and feelin' like there was a Volvo parked on my chest, then got a ton of sleep, felt better...then three days later go through it all again. I guess I wish if I were going to get REALLY sick...I'd just get on with it already. If I'm gonna get really sick, I'll take a few days off, (but not off the couch) and get over it already. If not...freakin' let me get on with being normal.

So...what oh what do I talk about tonight? Hmmm...

Oh! I can tell you about Valentines day. Mine didn't suck, for once.

First, Jas suprises me with a new outfit, a bag full of Victoria's Secret (not the super-sexy stuff...get your mind out of the gutter...I got bra's and panties...normal stuff. Though...I did get the new bra that has the gel-stuff in it that makes you look all Pamela-Andersonish...that was cool), and tells me that Rio's coming home Friday. This was Monday night.

Tuesday, on V-Day, we decided to have a special occasion glutton night. We crammed all of our favorite things into one night. So...I went and bought 8 pounds of Jumbo Alaskan King Crab, made our favorite garlic mashed potatoes, made my famous cheddary biscuits, got three huge boxes of chocolate (marischino cherries, the little round trufflles and turtles), a strawberry cheesecake, a half gallon of Superman Ice Cream, and an 8 pack of Mountain Dew (Yeah...I just never get sick of the stuff), and we sat down in front of American Idol all whilst cramming all of this stuff down our throats. It rocked.

I was starting to come down with this whole sickness deal, so he still didn't get any...but it's ok, because I think we were both feeling a little bloated and sugar-coma'd out anyway.

Lemme see...what else? Um...we were dead at the bar tonight. It was ok because the people who WERE there were all good friends of mine. So, it was basically a night out with the gang, and as per usual, I was the sober one.

Eric and Jen came in. Eric cracks my shit UP. He's the typical gay friend that all of us girls have that you just freakin' love. He's an Aveda Consultant/Hair Dresser with a phd in philosophy, and you just want to squeeze his cheeks he's so damn cute. Jen is your typical Goth-Girl with piercings all over her self who is so brilliant, you swear you can see the glow that surrounds her super-sized brain. They are a freakin' riot. Eric sings, and I love to listen to him. He sang Bridge Over Troubled Water, which of course brought tears to all of our eyes because the last time we heard him sing it was at his Dad's funeral last year. It was amazing.

Ummmm, Chris (not boss-Chris...Friend-Chris) ended up going into the ER tonight because she's sick too, and I'm thinking probably has Strept Throat...her throat was so swollen that I couldn't see past that little hangy thing in the middle. (Isn't that called the Uvula or something?!) So, Brian took her in. I don't know what the results of that adventure are yet. I'd imagine that with Foote Hospital's delightful system, she's probably still sitting in the waiting room waiting to be seen. It's 3:38 am, I got the text message at 10:14 pm that she was going, and yeah...I'd say that's probably about right. She'll see an actual physician somewhere around the apocalypse.

I'm so geeked about Rio coming home tomorrow. I can't even begin to tell you. I mean...I have this thought bubble/daydream cloud above my head that's playing re-runs of all the cool stuff this damn bird and I are going to do together. I've been waiting for a long damn time to bring him home, and I just can't stop thinking about it. I don't think I've been this excited about something since I was a kid.

I just imagine his antics, his clownish little attitude...and I just think it's going to be awesome. It's like having a live-in comedian. He's hillarious.

One cool little thing I picked up today (or really...just figured out after all this time) is that his high-pitched screech that he emits -- actually has a purpose. I finally correlated that the scream comes after he sees or hears a new person come into the store that he doesn't know....but only when he's on me. It's his alarm-cry. He's telling me that there's possible danger near, and the tone he tells me in is DEAFENING. I finally put it together when I had him up by the counter at the front of the store, and a woman came in. Screech 1. Then about 3 or 4 minutes later a second woman came in. Screech 2. Then, a guy came around the corner of the bookshelf that I didn't see come in. Screech 3. Then cash, the manager, Kelly's husky jumped up onto the counter with his front paws...screech 4.

At least it has a purpose. Now, I can work with that. When I finally figured it out, when he'd screech, I'd say "Thank you, Rio. I see it." Then, he'd get comfortable again, and go back to whatever it was that he was doing (gnawing on a button, preening my hair, trying to get that persistent brown stain off my cheek ((mole)), spinning my necklace around and around my neck...that sorta stuff.

So...that's the scoop of my day. How was yours?

sdk

oooooh....ps! I uploaded more pics to the Flickr account. Some of the bar, halloween, a few of one of the great big searches we did this past summer...there's a hillarious one of a car. Go check that one out. Actually...that car deserves it's own post. I'll get to it...LOL

Yeah...you just have to see this.

2006-02-16T02:21:00.000-05:00

You still pissed about Valentines day? Yeah? Well...until you're pissed enough to turn into this guy...count your blessings.

sdk

Catch-up - Smatchup.

2006-02-15T22:19:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so I wasn't any better at blogging the other blog than I am this one. Where does one find the time to blog, blog, blog?

I'm just going to go with it, I guess. I had grandeur thoughts of opening yet another blog, one for the birds, one for the kids, one for the marriage, one for the bar...but screw it. Green Apples is the best one out of all of em, and well...I'm ok with that. I like this blog, and I love the people who visit it. So, I guess I'm gonna stick with this one afterall.

I'm going to take you through a little photo-montage of all that's been happenin' with me lately.

First, Jas and I are doing really good. We ended up going to a marriage counselor, and screwing her WHOLE world up. For those of you who had access to the other blog (which is now deceased), you know why her world got tilted. It was actually pretty comical, looking at it. The conversation went something like this:

Dr. X: So, welcome to marriage counseling. First we're going to outline your problems, then we'll talk a little about them, and then we'll work on those problems. So...in your opinion, what is your largest fault in your marriage?

Me: Well, Doctor...we've been seeing other people for the last year and a half.

Dr. X: Huh. Really? I mean...Huh. Ok. (furrow in the brow, staring out of the window for a moment, looking back at us, looking at the wall, then drops head and furiously starts scribbling on her notepad.)

Dr. X: (after recovering from the shock that is my marriage, lifts head, starts to smile like she's got it together) Well, I'm thinking that you two are going to need a little more than a few sessions to take care of your issues. Mrs. DK...how does it make you feel to know that your husband is dating other women?

Me: Well, I'm at the point where it's going to be all or nothing. Either we make it work with the two of us, or we cut up the license that says we're married and move on with our lives.

Dr. X: And Mr. Dk, how does it make you feel knowing your wife is dating other people?

Jas: What she said. (pointing at me.)

Dr. X. Ok. Well...I think that by coming here today, and accepting that you have a problem, addressing that issue, and agreeing to act like married folks, well...I think we can agree that you should see some significant improvements in your marriage just by making those choices.

And...she was right. We have agreed to work on us, forsaking all others, and we're giving it the old college try. When I wrote last, I'm so not kidding that I had full intentions of checking out of this marriage. Things are much better now.

Rio comes home Friday. Marshall will be home in about a month. We still haven't been able to afford to just pay his little feathered ass off and get him home, but we're working on it. Christmas put a huge dent in the money I had hoped to use for him...you know how it goes. But...Rio is coming home day after tomorrow. Hallelluja, I can hear the angels singing just thinkin' about it.

I've got pictures of Marshall...I'll share. See captions for explanations...

This is Alex and Marshall. Marshall got his name because Marshall is my hometown. It seemed fitting for him. He's quiet, quite dignified, and a little snotty. Yeah, that pretty much sums up Marshall, Michigan.

Marshall's trick...Put em' up!

Then we say "Bang!", and this is the result. He falls over backward like he's dead. After he's home, I'll take video of it and upload that. It's hillarious.

One of Marshall's draws is how damn sweet he is. You can do just about anything to him and know that he isn't going to rip your face off. He's a big lover-lover. Except when we play....

Little Green Football. He REALLY hates that game.

It turns him into "Little Green Ball-O-Hate"

Bar-Life is going a-ok. Here's a funny story that just happened Sunday night...

So, two guys come in. One is dressed very nicely. The other, looks like a blue collar worker with slobby tendencies. White Collar guy goes and plays pool with Deanna, a very cute 30-something patron. Blue Collar guy sits at the bar and proceeds to get shitfaced. After about oh...3 or so hours of him slugging back cans of Miller Lite and shots of Quervo, he gets up, walks over to John, another patron and frisks him. By frisk, I mean he started with Dude's legs, working over his ass, up his back and chest to his underarms.

John, half in shock, half enraged says "Uh...Shan...do something about this guy. Will you?"

Me: Just what in the sam hell do you think you're doing?

Blue Collar Guy: My job.

Me: And, pray tell, how might you think it's your job to frisk my customers?

Blue Collar Guy: I'm his body guard. (pointing to white collar guy.)

Me: Are you law enforcement or acting as a party for law enforcement?

Blue Collar Guy: No. He's a cattle rancher from Montana up here to buy cattle. It's my job to protect him while he's here.

Me: Riiiiiiiiiight. Well, if you can't produce a badge or identification that specifically tells me that you have a right to put your hands on my customers, I'd knock it off or I'll ask you to leave, and then we'll bring REAL law enforcement into it. Mmmkay?

Blue Collar Guy: (Grumbles something incoherently.)

So, a few minutes later, White Collar Guy comes over, and I see them quite obviously talking shit about me. I walk over and explain why I'm pissed.

Me: Did your friend explain to you why I'm upset with him?

White Collar Guy: You're a very beautiful woman.

Me: Thanks. Apparently, I'm a bit of a pain in the ass too. Your friend here told me that he's your body guard, which gave him the right to put his hands on my customers. That would have flown, except where I'm from, body guards that are on duty aren't allowed to sit at the bar and get hammered.

White Collar Guy: Good call by you.

Me: So...if your buddy doesn't want to keep his hands to himself and play well with others, I'll ask you to leave. Deal?

White Collar Guy: Deal.

A few minutes later, they are gathering their stuff to leave, when Blue Collar Guy comes over and starts in with his shit again.

Blue Collar Guy: Who manages this bar?

Me: I do.

Blue Collar Guy: You do?

Me: Yep.

Blue Collar Guy: Well, I just wanted you to know that I am pulling your liquor license tomorrow morning?

Me: On what grounds, Dick?

Blue Collar Guy: My name is Jim.

Me: Huh. You look like a Dick to me.

Blue Collar Guy: (Slams beer and leaves the bar.)

***When I go to clean up where he was sitting, I find that JIM, (or Dick, whichever you prefer) has left me a 12 dollar tip. Teehehehehehehe

****And...a side note...we still have our liquor license.

This is me and Chris...my closest friend in Jackson. She and I are pretty much inseperable. She is Brian's girlfriend. My other best friend. For those who had access to the other blog, you'll remember that I was having some confusing thoughts about Brian. I'm over it. Thank God, so is he. So...I set him and Chris up. Nothing ever happened between Brian and I, and I'm thankful for that. You'll see a pic to your left of Brian and Chris. They're still in the honeymoon phase which can be a little nauseating, but all in all, I'm ecstatic for them.

So...that's the scoop for now. I'll definitely photo-journal Rio's homecoming. I'm so freakin' excited that I can't even begin to explain it. The plan right now is to be there at 9am on Friday (which also is payday) and bring home his cage, food, toys etc, and to put him in a cage where he can see what's going on and bring him home. I plan to let him hang out in his cage for pretty much the majority of the day with only short periods out to "investigate" the house. I think he's going to be pretty freaked out about the whole situation, but hopefully he'll understand it's a good thing. He won't be confined to his cage 99.9% of the time anymore.

Next part of the saga...teaching Murphy that she's NOT a bird dog, contrary to her instinct and beliefs...

Oh...one last thing...I took this little test, and te-hehehehe...apparently, I'm psycho, I mean psychic...

Yeah...So I suck.

2006-01-11T05:47:00.000-05:00

So, I suck at this whole blog thing. Stuff gets busy, and look at that, over a month has passed by without so much as a single post. It was good in theory, right?

I'm sure eventually I will come up with time to post. I have kind of fallen off the blogging wagon because...well...I'm in a transitional phase, where I should be writing, could be writing, want to be writing, and I love writing, but entirely too many people have this blog address, and I don't necessarily want all of those people to know what's going on in my life. So...I think the obvious answer is to make a new blog. I think I'll make a carbon copy of this blog, and if you aren't evil, want to know what's going on in the world of me, and I recognize your screen name from the blog...you can email me and ask me for the new address. Then, you'll get to the meaty stuff. Not just what's pg-13 and what my grandmother could read without smacking me in the back of the head. If you just send me an email with a request for the address, I'll send out a bulk email in the next few days to everyone who has requested it.

Deal?

PS...

Hey January 7th...Happy birthday. I didn't forget, I just didn't have time to post. The lamp is every bit as hot as it was in the movie. You're old. :) But, I'm sure it looks great on you. It's obviously agreeing with your humor...it just keeps getting better every year. I've never forgotten, and I haven't this year. I still think of you as much now as I ever have, and I hope that 2006 brings you all that you expect and more...

PMSing.

2005-12-04T02:35:00.000-05:00

This will be half rant/half regular old sarcasm. Fair warnings are good, right?

I'm pms-ing. My belly's bloated, the tell-tale two-by-four to the back feeling is present, and the ever-clear attitude from hell is here with fury. This is good...it means that surgery is still on, and life can progress the way it's supposed to. Well...it's only good for that.

The bar was dead as hell tonight. I pulled in a whopping 575 bucks in sales for the entire night. For a Saturday night, that's not piss-poor. That flat out sucks. The reason for it was the 4 (or more like 7) inches of white shit that is currently being dumped on our fine little city right now. For those who haven't become familiar with the term "white-shit", that would be snow. Loads and loads of snow.

I know how to and actually like to drive in the snow. Most people around here...not so much. You get an inch or so and you can actually watch their knuckles turn white just thinking about climbing behind the wheel and braving the roads. And...to be fair, it's not really your own driving you have to worry about so much at 2:30 am on a blustery night, it's the drunk fuckers to the left and right, behind and in front of you that you really need to beware of.

So, on nights such as this, we don't get a whole lotta business. Thursday night was the same way. It pretty much sucked. I played strip-poker over the bar for about 3 hours with my patron (yes, that's one patron) for rainchecks that he'll never have a prayer of cashing until we actually had a second patron come in and made the party really happen. Then, the three of us sang karaoke (because, when you have 2 patrons, you SHOULD pay a DJ...I mean why wouldn't you think it's a good idea to cut your losses and send the poor guy home??!) for the remaining 5 hours of our time, whilst playing sleazy card games. I actually had a lot of fun that night.

Anyways...what else?

Jas and I are still fighting, though he did get hired at Target. He starts Tuesday. That's good news at least. I asked him how long he and I were going to keep fighting and he said "I'm not fighting." I said "Huh...well...I AM. Keep up the shitty comments and we're going to cease fighting and start boxing." I also explained how I felt about the house, and Roselly...I used I words LOL, and I got a "Well. I'll clean the WHOLE fuckin' house from top to bottom. Don't you worry about that!"

Just FYI...house is trashed. Though, to be fair, he did do the dishes this morning, which I'm grateful for.

Went down to see the birds today. I walked in to find three baby African Grey's sitting on their perches in a row, with one bright green anomoly sitting in the middle flipping his head upside down, cuddling, preening and playing with all three of them. That'd be Mr. Marshall. Little shit. He was all about those babies! They were so damn cute. The babies still have fuzz just above their beaks. They're ten weeks old, and you can manhandle them and hug em and kiss em'...I better quit. I'm so not getting an African Grey. They talk too damn much.

Rio lunged at my face today. He has figured out our new contraption to keep him in his cage. It's one of those twisty-loopy-screw deals where it's like an oval with a screw in the middle to fasten the cage all the way shut. We used a damn wrench to pull it tight so he'd quit escaping. Well, he did this, got down, and crawled up the kitten cage to irritate and scare the crap out of them. So, I walked over to him and said "You get off the kitten cage! Step up!" He responded by dropping his head and charging at me. I got on eye level with him and told him again to step up. He shook his head. I said "I'm going to get the glove." He HATES the glove. It's his scary motivator. If the glove comes out, he's all about finding someone to rescue him from it. I went to go get the glove and thought he'd come running...uh huh. That happened alright. He came running to beak my eye out. So...after a stern talking to, finally, FINALLY, he stepped up. I put him straight away in his cage, and after a 10 minute time out, he was very apologetic and needed several redemption hugs.

Little bastard.

If you want to see what Marshall looks like, go to Yahoo and type in Male Eclectus Parrot and look up images. That's exactly what my boy looks like. Females are red, males are green. He's green.

Did I tell you that pretty much everything I own nowadays is green so that they'll think that I too am a bird? LOL

sdk

So...

2005-12-03T03:56:00.000-05:00

The last two weeks have been THE most fucked up two weeks, I think, of my whole life. But, you know what? It's ok. I'm ok. The kids are ok. In the overall scheme of things...it's all gonna be ok.

Uncle Russ died last Sunday. On Sunday of this week, my Uncle Earl died. So, a quick tally will tell you that I attended two funerals in two weeks. That's always a pleasure.

We fired Dave, the asshole bartender. We also fired Brandon, the not-so-asshole-fill-in-bartender. Because I seem to be the only person with enough...oh what's the word? Gumption? Integrity? Fuck. Honesty? to say something to the owner when I see something is wrong, I had to be the one to be present for the firings. Dave was drinking behind the bar, overcharging customers to pad his tip jar and was a general asshole to the customers, and Brandon liked his friends so much that he didn't think they had to pay for alcohol. To the tune of about 600 bucks worth.

Long story short on that is that where they aren't working, I am. So, my hours dramatically increased last week. Which is cool...holidays are sneaking up on me like a bad virus and I like money.

I'd like to tell you that Jas and I have been fighting like cats and dogs. But, to be fair...I've seen cats and dogs get along better than we're getting along right now. Matter of fact, my cats used to cuddle up and sleep with my dog, and for Jas and I...there will be none of that in the near future.

Here's the things I'm freakin' irked about: I work a lot of wierd hours, all of the time, every day. I don't WANT to clean the house or do laundry on the time I should be sleeping or hanging out with my kids or my birds. Right?

Yeah. Jas is laid off. Again. So, he's home, with plenty-o-time on his hands. Do you think I can get some help around here? Hell-effin-no. I spent 8 (yes, that's EIGHT) hours at the laundry mat today. That's how much laundry has piled up around here. There was laundry coming out of every crevice of this house, it felt like. So, I took it all to the laundry mat and did it all.

I had to hire a kid to come help me with some odd chores. I shouldn't HAVE to hire ANYONE to do shit, when I have a perfectly good husband sitting here on his laurels watching re-runs of Charmed and Judging Amy on a schedule every God-forsaken day. Yet, there goes bird money, right out the door so that I can come home to a house where I don't feel postal.

Tonight, I come in and what does my eye behold? Beer bottles. And plenty of them all over the place. NOT COOL. So, again, lemme tally this up for you: Shannon works 12 hours today at a paying job after spending 100 bucks at the laundry mat for 8 hours worth of hard labor, and I come home to my house trashed with beer bottles? That's asking to be woken up with loud screeching, high pitched bitching from your wife.

But, I'm not going to do that. Nope. Instead, I'm going to sit here, write to you fine folks, and go to my happy place.

Where is that happy place? Oh yes. The birds. GUESS WHAT?! Marshall is mine all mine. I'm bringing him home first. He'll be home by Christmas. The chick who was buying him decided she couldn't afford to finish paying for him, and the second Kelly called me to tell me, I rushed down, and transferred all but 100 bucks of the money I've paid on Rio to a contract of purchase for him. So, now, I physically have money down on both birds. They are both mine. Well...technically, Marshall is the boys bird, but...you know how it goes. That little bastard is so freakin' adorable. And the boys are SO excited about getting him!

So...that's the gist of this week. There's more of course, but that's all I'll bore you with tonight!

Have a good night all!

sdk

Schmoopy Me.

2005-11-22T02:53:00.000-05:00

Today's been a semi-rough day. I mean...it's that space after a death where you are sort of contemplating life as you know it, where you are absorbing the reality of the fact that the person you love is no longer here, and for me its where I rationalize in my brain that death is a reality, and damn it, I should be a tidbit more calloused to it than I am after all I've witnessed, done and been through.

I mean...it's not like I'm a stranger to the whole death scene. I see it every day. I counsel the families I work with every single day on bereavement, and the great unknown. I know that I too someday will join the ranks of they who have crossed over, and yet...it feels so uneasy and un-understood.

Mom's death was the end all - be all of me. I am a completely different person today than I am the day before she died. I actually remember feeling the old me slip away during the three and a half hour drive that it took me to get from my house to hers. I felt the transformation.

Uncle Russ's death is different. Not worse, not better...just different. We knew it was coming. 6 days ago, he asked us to remove him from the morphine drip so that he could be coherent enough to talk with us and to say his goodbyes. He's been sick for a couple of months.

But...with mom's, hers was unexpected. Hers was not a shock, but THE shock of my life. And, despite the fact that they are two separate people, his death brings back hers. I mean, I deal with that a lot with the victims I work with too. Their deaths always have something similar, or something that ties me to their cases that I can relate to, which allows me to better serve the families I work with. But, I guess I didn't realize how calloused I had become with death lately. I mean, I feel for my families. I feel for their loss. I do my best to help them through it and to work from my experience with mom's death and the deaths of the other victims I've helped. But, with Uncle Russ...it was coming. Some would say it was a relief (I actually heard that said today) but, for me, it's not really a relief. It's a loss, no matter what way you slice it, or how much you candy coat it. He's gone, he's not coming back, and unlike a lot of the families I work with, I knew him before he got sick. I knew him before he withered away down to nothing. I knew him before the pain.

He used to give me piggy back rides on a dead run around his house. His house had a whole wall that was a waterfall in his livingroom. He used to come pick me up, and then we'd go pick up my cousin Chip, and we'd hang out all weekend at his house. He'd make us popcorn and rent the movies our parents wouldn't let us watch. The good scary ones. And, when we got all freaked out in the middle of the night, he'd be the one hiding around corners to scare the bejesus out of us, laugh like a madman and then tuck us back into our beds with extra stuffed animals for protection. He always had weiner dogs. Little tiny weiner dogs that were so horrifyingly irritating that you just wanted to kick them like a field goal to the next county, but instead got down on their level and played with them because it made Uncle Russ happy.

One Halloween, we all went out to my grandparents place. They own a house on a lake. Behind the house, just in front of the lake is a great big willow tree. All day long, Uncle Russ and Grandpa laid the groundwork for this ghost story that they would tell us after it got dark and we had started the bonfire.

The story was that there was an old Indian war-painted guy that wandered the properties of the people who lived on the lake because they had taken over his tribe's land. They told us that he had started to dress like a farmer to lure the property owners into believing that he was one of them so that he could get close enough to kill them and take back the property. The indian was dead, but didn't KNOW he was dead.

To me, at the age of 11, I was petrified. I was looking around corners before actually physically moving around them...it was scary stuff, man. Well...that night, we get the bonfire going under the old Willow, and Grandpa starts telling the story. He stops short in the middle of the story to ask where Uncle Russ is. None of us know. He makes a big deal about not getting separated from the rest of the family in case the old Indian guy was out there and already had Uncle Russ. Just as he finished that statement, we hear a whooping Indian war-cry. From up above we hear a scream, and a dummy, tied to a long bungy cord falls right into the center of the circle where Grandpa is telling the story and scares the living hell out of all of us. My little brother, LITERALLY peed his pants. Looking back, it was freakin' hillarious. At the time...not so much.

Anyway...I don't know. I'm just in that schmoopy mood where I know I'm gonna miss him. I'm sorry he's gone. I know he's out of pain now, which of course is awesome, but...it still leaves a big fat void in the lives of we who love him.

Hug yours tonight...

sdk

Yet another heartache.

2005-11-21T03:20:00.000-05:00

My uncle died tonight. He lost his battle with cancer at around 6pm. 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave for work the phone rang and it was my little brother. He said that Uncle Russell had died two hours prior to his calling me. I made all the necessary phone calls and then headed for work. I do better being slammed with busy stuff during tragedy.

Since I'm not really in the mood (or the emotional condition) to lay all my feelings on that bare just yet...I'll just leave you with that piece of information for tonight and go to bed. I have the next two days off from the bar, and when I have some peace and quiet time, maybe I'll share some stories about him. He was the Rock of fucking Gibralter for this family.

Goodnight.

sdk

Huh-Huh-Huh-Harry!

2005-11-20T17:57:00.000-05:00

Well, I carried through with the promise that we've been making for the last seven months and took the two older boys to see HarryPotter and The Goblet of Fire last night. They're still talking about it.

My review is that it was much like reading the book, except instead of reading it straight through, you skipped several chapters, skipped several pages within chapters, and read it in fast forward mode. All in all, it was great. The World Quidditch Cup part was pretty sweet. It wasn't quite how I imagined it, it was better than I imagined it when reading it. And Voldemort...Ralph Fiennes played a great Voldemort. But...(you knew there was a but...) for a character that's just coming back into a physical form, he sure had a lot of energy to be jumping about and fighting. And Hermione...they're gonna have a hard time not making her into a full fledge hottie in the next movie. She's growing up pretty quick. I heard that for this movie they had to tape her breasts and attempt to make her look younger. Next movie, they're going to have no choice but to embrace the maturity that she's gaining (or that's gaining on her) and just work with it instead of against it.

All in all, it was everything we've come to expect out of the Potter series, and maybe just a little more. If I had the choice, I'd have liked to see them break up the movie (it's the longest book) into two movies and get everything instead of chopping so much out of the book.

Ok...what else?

Oh...Roselly...we can't have Marshall. Another girl had put a deposit (of a whopping 65 bucks) on him about six months ago. I told them that I wanted him and they finally got ahold of the girl who put the deposit on him and she said she's picking him up next week. However...if she renigs on that agreement, THEN he'll be mine-all-mine. He's such a sweet heart!!! I just adore his little green butt!

I'm expecting to get Rio home sometime in the next few weeks. I'm trying to put as much as I can every week on him so that I can get him home. I went down today and figured out what toys and perches I'm going to get for him to bring home and put them aside, though one of them, I put right in his cage now. It's a MASSIVE freakin' toy. There's wood blocks all over it with a lot of different little textures on it. He loved it, so I bought that one and put it in his cage now. The cage he's in now is the one that I bought for him, so everything that I put in it will come home with him. The only thing really I need to be doing now before he gets here is stockpiling his pellets and nuts. He's a walnut fanatic. I've never met a bird who can go through walnuts like he can. They aren't good for training though because he likes them still in the shell (it takes him a few minutes to get them out of the shell) and it takes too long to treat him while we're working on training. I've got to find a morsel food that he likes for training.

Today, I was teaching him to kiss. For him a kiss is him putting his beak up to my lips so that I can kiss him. Or, so I was trying to teach him. He did it the way I wanted him to for the first 6 or so times, and we applauded him and cheered. Then on time 7, he opens his beak way up and tried to slip me the tongue. LOL Little pervert...did I really expect anything else out of him? LOL Whatever...so long as he's not trying to rip my face off with that beak, we're good!

sdk

The Princess of Darkness (aka Satan's Daughter) found a home!

2005-11-18T12:51:00.000-05:00

Yep. You read it right. Ruby, Rio's cagemate has found a home. I'm being nice when I say that I fuckin' hate that bird. Emphasis on hate.

Toward the end of her reign over the dark cage, she started to get really bad. Like, for instance there are two large perches in the cage. There are 4 food dishes, and various assorted toys. The door swings out, and it's a relatively big door, that is practically the whole front of the cage.

So, when I'd open it to get Rio out, Ruby would beak her way over so that in order to get to me, or for me to get to him, we'd have to get past Ruby first. If he managed to get past her to the side of the cage where he could step up, she'd be right there waiting to mangle his tail feathers. If I reached in, or got on eye level with the cage, she'd literally dive at my face with her beak. I am fairly certain she was going for my eyes, but since didn't SAY that she was going for my eyes, I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt with my whole face. The cackling laugh that she gave after she dove for my (eye) face though...that was a pretty good indicator.

The other thing I hated about her was the mouth that little bitch had on her. I can't even count how many parents I saw slam their hands over their children's ears whilst trying to stifle a giggle as they shuffled their youngsters away as Ruby screamed "Oh YEAH Mothafucker!?! I hate you MORE!" or "ShutUP you little bastard!"

Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that it was her previous owner that gave her these lovely qualities. But...she was causing Rio to be PMS ridden 99.9% of the time, and I was the one suffering from the deal.

About three weeks ago, I'm sitting on the bench next to Marshall (the Eclectus that I can't have)'s cage. Rio is on my lap and we're talking and hugging and petting, and scratching. Then, I asked him to step onto my arm. For no reason, without warning, without any startling noises or scary objects, Rio lunges and clamps onto my arm. He nailed me good. He must have gotten ahold of a tendon when he bit me because it sent a shock through my arm. For the first two days, you could just see the perfect imprints of top and bottom beaks about two inches apart. The bottom part of the wound took on an immediate purple glow. By day 3, the bruise was the size of a medium size orange. By day 6, it had spread out to look like my brother had given me several indian burns and snake bites all over my forearm.

Now...now that the the bitch is gone, he can't get enough of any human. He even lets Chuck the person he hates (cause Chuck doesn't take his shit) the most hold him and pet him. He's back to being a laid back, loveable creature. He's such a good boy. I went down to hand some money over to the "Bring Rio Home Fund" a little bit ago, and when I walked in he climbed out of his cage (now that the Princess of Darkness isn't in there, we don't have to worry so much about the safety of any innocent onlookers so we can leave his cage open) and climbed onto the floor and came running up the aisle where he heard me talking to Kelly. He stood there at the corner of the aisle that his cage is on and the front of the store where I was and screamed "Here's Ri-Ri! Hi! Hello! Hey Mama!" LOL

I love that little bastard!

sdk

Things Are Looking Up...

2005-11-17T04:14:00.000-05:00

Well, at least in a work sense, they are.

Tonight I sat down with my boss at the bar and discussed some stuff. I know that another employee has been not only drinking on the job, but ripping off some high end liquor as well. I know because I marked the bottles myself, I haven't sold any, there isn't any expensive shots on the detail tape, but the booze is gone. I brought this to her attention a while back. I found out tonight that another employee has been giving away booze to his friends.

On the other hand...I hate working Friday and Saturday nights. I don't hate that it's slammed, what I hate is that those nights I end up waitressing and not bartending, and anyone who's seen me waitress will tell you that I am just not meant to be a waitress. I get bored, I think it tedious, and well...there's nothing cute about putting me in any proximity to the customers where they actually have access to attempt to touch my ass. It usually ends up with some drunk bastard getting tossed out of the bar.

So...we hired a new girl last week, and I'm done training her. I like her, she's thorough, albeit slower than molasses in January, but all in all, she's good. She'll make a good bartender after she gets comfortable and loosens up a bit. She's what we refer to as our "fill in" girl. So, I talked to my boss about letting me work Sunday-Thursday nights. The bartender who's ripping off the booze generally bartends on Friday and Saturday, but I'm always waitressing and able to babysit him a little. I've trained our new girl to look out for stealing. I mean, it's just good common sense to know who's doing what, who's drinking what and to make sure you don't get nailed for it when the shit goes down. So, the point is...she'll waitress on Friday and Saturday, I won't have to waitress at all (I'll only bartend) and I'll have two complete days off every week --the same ones my husband has off. So, should we want to go out and do something together, there will actually be something to do because as we all know...Monday and Tuesdays...there isn't shit to do besides Monday's Las Vegas and Medium and Tuesday's House and SVU.

I won't get to watch my shows anymore...but...hell. Isn't that why Man invented Tivo? I'm gonna need to get Tivo.

So...that's that.

As for Gram...we had a long talk today. She understands my position, and I understand hers. And, we're just going to spend as much time together as we can until it's her time to go. I'm not happy about the lost time, but I at least get where she was coming from now.

It's almost 4:30 am, and my kidlets are gonna be up in a few hours...and that hubby of mine left me a cute little pornographic note in size 48 font on my computer screen for me to find when I got home...so I'm gonna go collect on that! LOL

sdk

A Heavy Heart

2005-11-16T02:59:00.000-05:00

I've just finished for the night with cleaning this freakin' house. And, well...it's still not done. Nor do I expect that it will be in the near future. Most people if they're not home a lot, they get to come home to a nice clean abode, nothing out of place that they themselves didn't put out of place. Not me. No, no...I have three kids, a dog, a cat and a husband to make damn sure that the little scenario I just painted for you never, ever happens to me.

This house is a hole. Plain and simple. I don't have time to clean it, and God forbid anyone else should get off their duff and do anything about it. There's toys strung from hell to breakfast, clothes in spots clothes just shouldn't be, dust an inch thick (well...maybe not an inch but you know what I'm talking about) and...it's just yucky. Yesterday, I scoured the kitchen, mopped, washed the windows etc. Today, I worked on the dining room and den, and tonight, I conquered the livingroom.

I'm bringing home my cherry desk from the office, and taking this desk and selling it with the rest of the office equipment. I'm making my bedroom into an office-slash-slumber room. It's the only room big enough in my house to accomodate that desk that I can trust my files won't be colored on with multi-colored crayolas. Plus...with the type of case sensitive stuff I work on, it's the only room that I know no one else plays in or anything and I can lock it up and know that it won't be bothered. That little project happens Saturday morning. Yahoo. That desk weighs more than probably all of my readers and me combined. Mr. DK and Charlie (my neighbor) are delighted with being assigned the task of not only moving it, but moving it all the way upstairs and around a bend of the stairs. Ha-ha-ha. That's what they get for going out drinking for two consecutive weekends in a row. Nener-nener-nener!

So, I titled this post a heavy heart. There's a few things on my mind I'm going to write about tonight.

The first is my Gram. My Gram is a pain in the ass from way back. I love her with all my heart and soul, but MAN can that woman piss me off. I call there the night before last and Grandpa answers. He tells me that Gram has been holding back a little information from me. I ask what sort of information he was talking about and he tells me that she's sick. Really sick. For the past 10 years, she's had a heart disease. 10 years ago, they gave her 5 years to live. 5 years ago, she had a triple bypass, and has had several surgeries after that. She seemed to be doing really well. I mean...not like let's go for a 10 mile hike good, but good for what she's been through. Know what I mean? Well...Apparently about 4 months ago, the doctors told her that she's going to go through 4 stages before she actually dies.

Grandpa enlightened me in on what's going on right now. She's in the last part of the third stage. The last stage is total organ shut down. Thursday, they put her on oxygen for good. She's carrying around one of those little oxygen tanks with her all the time, and she's now wheel chair bound.

I'm pissed. Why couldn't she have told me this 4 months ago when she found out about it? Is it just me, or is that completely selfish?! I have three kids who need to know her the way I know her. I need the secret recipes for some of the stuff she makes like peanut brittle and that damn potato salad. I want to go through all of the pictures and hear the stories from her. I have so many things I want to do, and now, she's too tired and too sick to do all of it. We could have gotten a head start on all of this.

I'm further pissed because instead of letting the rest of us in on the little secret that she's about to die, she had full intentions of letting it be sudden. As if we haven't had enough of sudden death in our family. My mother was murdered 8 freakin' years ago, and Gram picked up the slack. Now, she has been planning to just go - just like that.

That, in my world is more than a little bit of bullshit. I'm not complaining about the fact that she has to go. I know how it works. But...her little bit of being noble and suffering quietly makes me want to just kick her decrepit ass.

The next thing I'm schmoopy about I don't think I'm going to go and get all detailed about. What I will say is that I've been lied to by a friend who I truly never thought would lie to me. Hell, there was no reason for this person to lie to me. But it happened, and now just like that, the friend in question is out of my life for good.

How do you deal with that? How are you so close one day, and the next you find out that everyting you've ever known to be true about someone isn't and you have no choice but to pull back and part ways? Has that ever happened to you?

I've known some great people in my life. I cherish my friends and try to give as much as I take in every relationship. But...sometimes it's just not what you thought. And...it hurts.

David: I have 3 steelcase L shaped desks with overhead storage, plus one cherry U shaped desk with two large size file systems in it (I am keeping the matching one). Everything else I've either designated to volunteers or are keeping in the home office. And...thanks! E-mail me an update on what's going on in your world!

Cheryl: The week before New Years is when I'm scheduled to have the surgery. I can't wait to get it over with!!! Thanks for thinking about me!

To everyone who's written to welcome me back...thank you so much for caring enough to come back every day! I'm sorry about the lag in posts, and I'm going to try to be better about it. I love the release I get from emptying my head, and yet it's the thing I've been neglecting the most the last few weeks!

sdk

I'm SOOOOOO Sorry.

2005-11-14T16:37:00.000-05:00

So, I'm alive. Yep. Pulse is still pulsing, there's still air entering and exiting my lungs...it's official. I'm alive.

I'm sorry to just leave y'all hangin' like that. I wish I could come up with some great excuse for why I've been absent, but the only one I can fish out of the bowl is that I've just been really busy. At least it's not a bullshit excuse. There really is some merit to the argument.

For example...I picked up a third job. At the pet store, of course. (You didn't see that coming or anything...did you?) I have decided to not continue that job (have given my 2 week) because, well...that was the only me time I had and then I turned it into work, and that's not ok. So, I'll be finished at the pet store on Saturday, and then my visits will go back to me hanging out with my birds (yes, you DID see a plural on that...it's not your imagination) and not fishing mice out of an aquarium to meet their demise with their new owners whom are usually long and scaly. Ick. The crickets were icky too. I'm just sayin'...

And, one of the girls at the bar quit. She was the dayshift girl, and had some nervous breakdown or something so I've been covering her shifts as well as my own. I put in 78 hours last week at the bar. I only put in 6 at the pet store. Between the two, places, I was on the verge of my own nervous breakdown. The pet store was very cool about me saying that enough was enough.

And...I have in 3 new cases that I've been working heartily on. One went missing from a known cop bar. Interestingly enough, her case file is missing from the precinct handling her case. That's going to be a really tough case. One is a missing woman from over by Detroit. Another toughy. And one is a man that's been missing for several years. None of these people have received help from any other sources before they contacted me...and that's not from lack of trying. It makes me mad.

Plus, I'm still working on that website that I've been bitching about for the past 4 months (at least). I'm hoping to get that live in the next few days.

And, drumroll please...I'm closing down my commercial office for my org. We're paying out almost 2 grand a month for the space and the expenses. And, all of our work, believe it or not, is primarily done from our homes. We forward the phones to wherever we are (or to cell's), we work from our home computers because the connections are faster on broadband, the only thing we really need at the office is the fax and the commercial printer. So...the printer is now sitting right here next to me.

We've decided if we need commercial space, we will get a teensy little cubicle somewhere and pay that rent payment instead of the mortgage we're paying now.

If anyone needs office equipment...we've got some great stuff for sale.

So...that's that.

How the heck is everyone?

sdk

I should be exhausted.

2005-10-28T04:16:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

Humdrum, Fun, Fun!

2005-10-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

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.

sdk

My 100.

2005-10-21T11:31:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

83.)

I'm Schmoopy.

2005-10-21T03:53:00.000-04:00

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?

sdk

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

2005-10-20T03:50:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

Just more stuff...

2005-10-19T03:59:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

An Upsetting Look At Fall.

2005-10-13T16:34:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

Catch Up and a Realistic Look at Suicide.

2005-10-11T15:19:00.000-04:00

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.

**********************************
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?

sdk

HNT Number: (I have NO idea)

2005-10-06T03:41:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

Well...

2005-10-05T01:08:00.000-04:00

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.

sdk

He Let Me Pet Him!!!

2005-10-04T02:56:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

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.

2005-10-01T13:33:00.000-04:00

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!

sdk

Just Stuff.

2005-09-30T03:07:00.000-04:00

I had today off. Two days in one week...what WILL I do with myself?

My brother came over today. He wanted me to do his taxes. He didn't do them last year either. Since he was in jail for both April 15ths...I'm not really sure if he gets a break on the extension or not. I mean...if you're incarcerated, do they allow you time with your accountant to take care of business? Martha's correctional facility obviously does, but what about dumb kids? LOL Mr. DK fixed him right up, and he's good to go. Now next semester's financial aid can be applied for and his classes for next semester will be paid for. I know my Grandmother is probably crying tears of joy right about now...

Cj (little brother) said that I should go more in depth on my blog about the dude that grabbed my chin last night at the bar, because, in his words...it's just too good of a story NOT to document.

Here goes:

So, I head for the patio to make sure all is well out there. You know...no glass bottles or glasses out there etc. As I walk by, Dude (for lack of the knowledge of his true identity) grabs my arm as I'm heading out there. I'm tall, 5'11". He's a good 4 inches taller than me. I whirl around to see him standing there grinning. The following is the rest of that conversation:

Me: What can I get you?

Dude: You.

Me: Uh huh. Since I'm not for sale, what ELSE can I get you?

Dude: Everything's got a price, honey.

Me: And see, that's not the way you should ever, EVER start a conversation with a woman. Especially when you've got hopes of seeing what's under her clothes. Not that you had a chance there anyway...so, what sort of alcoholic or carbonated beverage can I get you?

Dude: I already told you. I want you.

Me: Ok. Then, when you're ready to order, you can mosy on up to the bar and tell me what you'd like.

I start to walk away, and he takes both hands and puts one on each side of my jaw and pulls my face towards him as if he is about to kiss me. I take both hands, go up between his and break his contact with my face.

Me: You're cutoff.

Dude: Honey, I just got here. You can't cut me off.

Me: Well, if you're drunk enough to think it would be a good idea to try to kiss me, you've had enough.

Dude: You're a fuckin' bitch.

Me: And now, you can leave.

Dude: Fuck you! I'm not going anywhere!

Me: You are leaving, and NOW, you're not allowed back in this bar for 30 days, and that's pending the owner's approval. Care to keep going?

Dude: You're a hardass.

Me: Ever touch me again, and you'll find out just how much of a hardass I am.

Dude: Man. Guys...we gotta go.

************************************

I'll tell you the story of the dude who was trying to steal a bottle of Crown from my bar the other night tomorrow night. LOL Dumb bastards. ROFL

I went down and put 150 more dollars on Rio today. I'm so geeked. I've been only able to spend an hour here and an hour there down there, and putting actual money on him makes me feel like I'm doing a better job of actually trying to get him home.

Mimi...it's hillarious that you brought up the regurgitation thing today! After I read that, I said something to Kelly, the manager of the pet store about it. She says "He'll get there, if he hasn't already started doing it. He doesn't atually puke ON you. Ruby does. So does Simon. But, Rio just coughs it up in his mouth, then you can hear him smacking it back down. He's cool like that." A few minutes later, she goes "Like that! He's doing it right now!" I thought he was just making noises...I didn't realize that's what he was doing! He's been doing it for a few days now. Isn't that adorable?! My little schnookum's loves me!

Here's the cage I am going to get him. I got it for 275 (which is about 400 bucks cheaper than the exact same thing at his pet store) on ebay. I made arrangements with the seller to pay them 50 bucks a week.

And...I spent some time at a friend's site tonight, going through this massive list of great songs. This one, I'd never heard before. It's a beautiful song, she's got a pure voice, and she's just the sort of chick that the closet freak in him would find absolutely adorable. LOL Anywho, here's the video in Windows Media and Quicktime. Her name is Bonnie McKee, in case you've never heard of her before. This is a great song. I can relate to this song very, very well.

Goodnight!

And...ps. I'm reading your blogs, I swear I am. If I didn't comment, I will get to it, I swear I will.

sdk

Men Are Dumb.

2005-09-29T03:47:00.000-04:00

Ok. Maybe not ALL men. I've known quite a few intellectually stimulating males in my time. Hell...most of the intellectually stimulating men I've met, hold a dear place in my heart. My dad...freakin' brilliant. There's a few others that have tickled my wit-fancy too.

But...they are not whom I'm speaking of. I am talking about some of the dipshits that frequent the bar I work at. For instance...Greg. Greg (whom I've just met for the first time tonight) has proposed marriage. It matters not to Greg that I already have a rock on my finger.

Here's a snippet from that conversation:

Greg: Damn. You're sexy as hell. Will you marry me?

Me: No.

Greg: You're not even going to think about it?

Me: Nope.

Greg: I'm a catch. Really. But I wouldn't let you work in a bar.

Me: Huh. Ok. First of all...I'm married to someone already. Second of all...he doesn't LET me do anything. I do what I do. He does what he does. And...sometimes, we do it together. I don't know what third world country YOU'VE been living in...but it is possible to have breasts AND a brain of your own.

Greg: Well, there's no reason for you to get all bitchy. Sheesh.

Me: I'm not bitchy. This is me telling you the way it is.

Greg: Ok. Cool. So when you get unmarried...think of me.

Me: Yeah, that's probly not going to happen either.

Greg: Why not?

Me: What makes you think that I'm going to go through a divorce and decide I want YOU?

Greg: Well, why wouldn't you?

*****************************

See where I'm coming from? What would make him think that I'd come a runnin' the second my heart was broken for him (the drunk at the bar who doesn't even tip) to mend? Good Lord. It makes you wonder what sort of contamination his Gene Pool contains, doesn't it? And the saddest part of this little exchange is that it was one out of three conversations to night just like it.

First, I'm not that cute. I mean, I'm alright, but I'm almost 30 for crying out loud, and I've had 3 kids. Second, do they really assume that every chick in the world is hot for some drunk she just met at the scary bar in Michigan Center?! Uh....no. And third, why do they think it's ok to TOUCH me when they're talking to me?! One of the morons (not Greg) actually grabbed my chin and try to pull me close to him. I don't know his name, but I did cut him off and throw him out of the bar tonight. I'm She-Ra The Bartender: Fighting Wannabe Cassanova's One Drunk At A Time!

Spent some quality time with Rio today. He was sortof a little prick today. Rio's got a crush on Luanne, who is a staff member at the pet store. (For those who don't know...Rio is my Macaw that I'm slowly but surely working and paying off. There are pictures of both him and Ruby, his cell mate in the previous post) Anywho, when Luanne comes around, Rio gets all confused as to who he loves more. Since he's known Luanne longer, Luanne wins out every time. So, he gets all pissy with me and begs to be put on his cage. I thought this would be a good time to command him to step up from the cage on me, while she was standing there. Test his ability to listen and perform...right?

Rio reaches out and tries to bite me. I said "Rio goes to jail. NO BITING." And opened his cage and told him to get in. He looked at me for a second to see if I was serious. I was. I started shooshing him in with my body. When he gets to the side by my head, he looks at me, gets all exasperated and holds out his leg as if to say "Fine. You get your way. I'll step up. I don't want to go to jail." LOL. This right here is the key to training him. Take his shit, and he'll run all over me. When I don't take his shit and he actually has to do what he's told, he slowly but surely comes to terms with the fact that in his world, I'm God. And, in the end, I'll end up with an awesome bird!

sdk

Catch-Up!

2005-09-28T00:25:00.000-04:00

Hi Everyone! I am so behind in my blogging and computer world...it's not even a little funny.

So much to update on. Where to begin seems to be the question!

Today was my first complete day off since I started working at the bar. And boy, did I need it. Yesterday I was supposed to be off, but at 6:30 she calls and says in her most pleading, whiny voice..."I don't feel good, or I would work. Could you maybe, pretty please come in?" I said, "When do you need me there by?" She says "Is 7pm to soon?" HA. Yeah it was too soon. I was wearing leggings and a huge sweatshirt, hadn't bothered to do anything with my hair or face after getting out of the shower, so it was still in a wet pile on top fo my head, and 50 percent of my day was spent on me shamelessly wasting away in the recliner. I told her I'd be there by 8:30. So...I got out at 4am on Tuesday morning.

Mr. DK found a job. I think he starts Thursday. Tomorrow morning he has to go in for a pre-hire drug test, but since we're not really druggies...that shouldn't be an issue. (If it is an issue...you'll be seeing a follow up divorce post in a few days after the results come in!) I have no idea what he's going to be doing, but I do know that the company he's working for manufactures and installs home siding. Whatever. I'll live with it. I'm a happy camper so long as I don't have to bear the entire burden of bringing home the bacon.

Speaking of bacon...I've found a new place for my extra tips to go. Believe it or not, I've made a very decent amount of money the last week. If I continue my progression into the badass bartender I know I can be (think Coyote Ugly again...lol), I shouldn't have a problem bringing home 5-600 bucks a week. I think so far I'm at like 450 and I've still got another night to go, one that is generally busy with pool leagues and karaoke geeks. LOVE those karaoke geeks, man. I mean, I used to be a karaoke geek...but I didn't know that it was part of the trend to order 6-8 dollar per glass drinks and tip the hell out of your bartender. This is a happy, happy deal.

Anyway...where the bacon's going. One of my regulars (notice how they're now MY regulars, not the bar's regulars. I've earned the right to call them MY regulars because she works me to damn much!) owns the pet store where I buy all of Murphy, Lily and Hagrid's food, toys and treats. We got to talking about birds one night, and I told her about Toby, my deceased Cockatiel who was the love of my animal life for 12 years until he finally gave in to old age. Anyways, she tells me that she's got a Military Macaw that's been in her store for 3 years. She needs to sell him to a home, but he's a VERY expensive bird (1400 bucks in my world is expensive) and she's having trouble finding a buyer. But...to get other birds in, she's got to sell him. He beats up on the other birds. He needs someone to work with him regularly, but...she's willing to pay me for working in her store on my off hours per week by giving me 10 bucks an hour towards the bird. Basically, she gave me 14 weeks to work him off. Then, he comes home with me.

In the past week, since I went down and met him, he is literally all I think about. His name is Rio. He's 3 and a half years old. He's stolen my heart (and a few buttons and earrings). The first day, he bit me. I don't know if you've ever spent any quality time with a Macaw, but they are not little birds. Look at your index finger. From top to bottom. That is the size of Rio's beak. He is a big, big boy. When he bites, he's not kidding. They've been known to break fingers, grind bone and to not feel a bit sorry about it.

Day two went a bit smoother. He was doing "step-up" commands for me. Day three, he was preening my hair. Day four he wasn't even trying to nip me, and today...today was the best of all days.

Today I went in, walked to his cage and he says "Hey Mama!" I said "Hi Rio! Have you been a good boy?!" (all in baby talk. He LOVES baby talk. So much so that he blushes and his cheeks turn bright red when you baby talk to him.) He nods his head, comes right out and hops onto my arm. I took him in the back today for some one on one time. He's got a cell-mate that is named Ruby. She's a green-winged Macaw. And, she's the daughter of Satan, I swear to you. She'll lure you over with sweet talk, hold out her paw for you to shake and then take a massive chunk out of your hand. This hasn't happened to me, but I watched it happen to an unsuspecting customer. She won't be finding a home soon unless she learns to curb that nasty attitude.

Anyways...we were in the back room and I read in this book I bought that the way to approach petting your Macaw is to gently blow their feathers up. It stimulates the shaft of the feather and feels good. So, I did this. Rio out of the blue says "Whoooooa Baby!" LOL

When I went to put him in his cage, I decided to try a game the book suggested. Peek-a-Rio. I hid my face behind his food service door, and said "Where's Rio? Where's my Rio?" Just as I was about to say it for the third time, he swung his head down by the door and said "Here's Ri-Ri!" LOL

I came home and told Mr. DK that I am officially having an affair with another male. I freakin' LOVE that bird. So, basically, what I'm going to try to do is to keep my tips, and apply them to him, so as to not have to work so much, and to leave me available to actually go down there and play with him and work with him, instead of working around him and becoming just another staff member that he can take advantage of.

Well...now I have to go catch up on all of your blogs. I am hopelessly behind!

I miss you guys!

sdk

Just a Quick Update...

2005-09-26T04:35:00.000-04:00

It is 4:35 am, Monday morning. I JUST got freakin' home. This two jobs shit is for the birds! LOL

Truthfully, it's not bad. The bar is fun, my real job is challenging. It's a nice balance. Now, if I could only find the time for my family, it would be perfect. Our money problems are finally getting in check. I'm making awesome tips. Hell...I just worked a Sunday night and made almost 100 bucks. That's a good deal.

I will try to make time at least a few times a week to write. I love blogging too much to give it up. But...I'll be honest with y'all...I'm exhausted. Since I started Wednesday, I've worked every single day or night since then...sometimes both. That friends, is called "being taken advantage of". I'm going to have to sit her (her being my new boss) down and explain the advantages of giving me a day off. Like for instance...if she gives me a day off, I'll have a day to relax, thus pushing back the day I'm so burned out that I say "Fuck it." at least by a couple of months. One day a week is all I'm asking for. Sundays would be a good day for this.

Ok...Anywho. I'm alive and kicking. I'm going to go, because Mr. DK has a job interview at 8:45am, and I'll be expected to be up and taking care of numbers 2 & 3 when he leaves.

Goodnight!

sdk

I Was Tagged!

2005-09-23T02:29:00.000-04:00

Midwest Hick of Random Ramblings (and if you haven't checked out his blog yet...you must. Simply must. He's freakin' HILLARIOUS.) has tagged me. He said it was because. LOL

So...a taggin' we will go.

Three Random Facts About My Closet:
1)There's no hangy bar thing. So...all my stuff's in Logan's closet. How much closet space does a 6 month old need anyway?
2) There IS a bookshelf in there. Filled to the gills with true crime, John Grisham, James Patterson, John Sanford and everything Vonnegut ever put out.
3) While there's no hangy thing, there is a floor. So, there's 30 pairs of shoes lining the bottom. Yes they're all mine. I don't share my closet. Period.

Three Items I've Never Worn But Still Haven't Tossed:
1)This FUGLY coat my Grandma thought was beautiful, thought of me and bought. I'm sure it was, in 1981.
2) A pair of Dolce and Gabana sandal-heels. I wear a size 11. No...I'm not a sasquatch. They are size 10, and since I could squeeze my skis in them, AND they were on sale, I bought them. It didn't save them from hurting like hell.
3) My mother's nightgown. She was in it when she died. I can't look at it, but I can't throw it away either.

Three Items I'll Never Get Rid Of, No Matter How Ugly They Get:
1) My adidas cross trainers. The most comfy shoes on the planet.
2) My Central Michigan sweatshirt. It's stolen, from someone who got it from lost and found, and regardless of how ugly it is, it's the most comfortable damn thing I own.
3) A pair of my brother's boxers. He left them here, they're mine. They go great with the Central sweatshirt.

Three Items People Wouldn't Expect To Find In My Closet:
1) An adorable turquoise blue strapless dress with a lime green bow around the waist. I freakin' love that dress. And when I wear it...I look like a girl. Go figure.
2) All of my undies make a statement. The one's I'm wearing right now say "Bad Kitty."
3) My old cheerleading uniform. I completely forgot I had it until I was rumaging around in my parents attic. It still fits! LOL

Three items that made me go, "Oh Lord, what was I thinking?":
1) My "I like your boyfriend" t-shirt.
2) My "Porn Star In Training" t-shirt
3) A pair of snake skin pants. Cute as hell...WAAAAAY too tight.

Three things that I have a surprising number of:
1) Socks. I have SO many socks.
2) Tops. The Tops vs. Pants ratio is like 10:1.
3) Purses. Those line the top half of my closet. When you get a new purse, it just sets your whole week right.

Three dominant colors in my wardrobe:
1) Jean.
2) Jean.
3) Jean.

Three items that never fail to put me in a good mood whenever I wear them:
1) That turquoise dress I mentioned earlier.
2) My black "hooker-heels" as they're affectionately called.
3) My favorite pair of Todd Oldham jeans. No jean has ever fit so perfectly.

Three people I will tag (or throw under the bus):
Cheryl...I'm just interested.
Max...I want to see what he comes up with. Men always have great answers to this shit.
and...
Since the person who DID this to me is Mike...(Oh...your evil retribution hasn't even begun to happen. It'll happen when you least expect it...LMAO) I guess I will go with...
MadMunkey.

Cheers!

sdk

Not Exactly Coyote Ugly...

2005-09-22T01:19:00.000-04:00

First and foremost...thank you for all the kind words of hope and support for my marriage issues. I very much appreciate knowing that I can come here and be surrounded by friends who take the time to understand...and really that's exactly what we've built here over the past few months, huh? A big ole' group of friends? I'm absolutely loving it. Thank you.

So, the bar experience isn't exactly Coyote Ugly. Welllll...let me rephrase that. The bar itself isn't exactly Coyote Ugly, however some of the patrons could absolutely earn that compliment all on their own.

I had fun. A lot of fun, actually. Tonight was my first night of work. I made really decent money for hanging out at a bar for 4 hours, and it didn't suck at all. After I was done working, I ordered some fries and sat at the bar eating them. Two of my highest tipping customers swarmed in on me...while I was eating. Slurring in my face...you know how drunks do. Anyways, the one on the left of me reaches around and puts his arm around me. Now...keep in mind that dude has already asked me four seperate times if he'll have a chance to take me out. Each time, I show him my ring and explain that I'm married. So...now he's sitting next to me, breathing on my french (or do you prefer freedom?) fries and has slipped his hand down so that it rests on my ass.

I make a point of craning my neck around to look at his hand on my ass. I said "Would you prefer to remove your hand from my ass or for me to remove your hand from your arm?" LOL

I think that might severely deduct any future tips that dude might give me. I don't think he was a regular though...

On an upnote, Mr. DK went out looking for jobs all day today. Got a couple of good leads. He's got two interviews tomorrow, and I think I've got him coached on what to do when he gets there. His moping isn't going to cut it if he actually wants to be employed.

Instead of writing a comment on Cheryl's Blog: Hildebrand Road to her post regarding Sweetie Pie and trading his daddy in...I thought I'd just go ahead and brooch the subject here. Bop on over and read the post entitled "Dad" and when you're finished (and check out the rest of her blog too...she's a phenomenal writer) come on back and read this part of this post...

Cheryl...I've told you over and over again how it sounds like you're raising a great little man. The conversation with him that you shared with us just drives that point home 1000 fold. You're handling the situation the best way you could possibly. He has a strong relationship with you, with God and nothing, not even the harshness of his father will change that.

You never have to tell the kids what you really think of their other parental unit. You don't. Because they need to learn it for themselves, otherwise you risk contaminating their thoughts and their feelings with your own. And, that just breeds contempt that you're going to deal with down the road. SP (Sweetie Pie) already knows what his dad is. The key to dealing with it now (in my humble opinion) is that if the court says he has to go, he has to go, but encourage him to use all he knows about love and good and God when his dad is being harsh. What counts for him or at least what will count for him at the end of his childhood is that he was the best boy he could be during any and all circumstances that his father threw at him. If he can say that he did everything in his power to try to carry on his goodness, then its not his loss. It's his daddy's. Sooner or later, his daddy will learn that too, but if he's anything like my Ex, it will be in his late 80's as he's reflecting on what he should have done and could have done but didn't.

We have to just encourage them to be strong, not sway from their beliefs, to stand firm in their convictions, and that giving love doesn't always mean getting it back in return...no matter how hard we want it or try. It's a rough lesson for a 6 year old to learn. I know. I've been there, and now my oldest child (who you know is also 6) is there.

I think that your new poster (forgive me for being too lazy to go look up his name) has the right idea. Some kids are just lucky. They get their real daddy, their Creator AND a new daddy. When you meet that person...things will just fall into place and you'll know it.

Forgive me if I sound to "soap-boxish". I have some experience here. Surely our Ex's differ in a lot of ways, but it doesn't sound to me like they differ too terribly much.

And...of course we have that "great kid" thing in common!

Hugs.

A Semi-Agreement Has Been Reached.

2005-09-21T01:19:00.000-04:00

Today has a few interesting points. I'll go with the chronological version of what happened.

I got a job. I accepted a job as a bartender for nights and weekends at a pub (read: hole in the wall) that gets more business than any bar should for its size. I talked with the bartender that was on and he said that he never leaves on any week night with less than 75 bucks, plus his hourly rate. He said on the weekends, it's not uncommon for him to rake in 150 in tips, and as he put it...LMAO he's not nearly as cute as I am. So, I should do ok. They've got either a DJ or karaoke 7 nights a week, plus there's pool league on Wednesday, Thursdays and Sundays. I'll never work a day shift (mainly because I already have a job), and my hours will run from 7-3, though on some nights I may get to leave at midnight or 1, depending.

I actually think it might be fun. I'll work 4 nights a week...Wed, Thurs, Fri and Sat...which of course are the nights that I'd rake in the most tips anyway. I can live with this arrangement. It leaves me free for the days to work at the Org, and I'll actually have a paying job on the side. Plus...winters are usually not as busy for us anyways. It seems like criminals seem to work most during the warm months. There's your occaisional missing person during the winter months...don't get me wrong. But, not in the volume that there is in the spring and summer.

So, I get home and I say to Mr. DK: So...I got a job. I start tomorrow. Finally, I'll be able to help with the income. He says "Great." That was it. No questions...no nothin.

So after Law and Order tonight (I'm SUCH an addict) he makes some smart ass comment. I can't even remember what he said. So, finally...I just laid it out for him. I'll try to recollect the conversation as best I can. (Warning: It's long and I was pretty pissed.)

Me: What the FUCK is your problem? Do you think I don't know what's going on in that head of yours? If you want a divorce, you're going to have to come out and ask for it. I'm not doing it for you. If you don't want to be here, then don't. But...quit taking your shit out on me and the kids. If you want to waste away in front of the TV for the rest of your life, be my guest, but don't come crying to me later that I wasted YOUR life. Because that's not how it is. You seem to think that all the problems we've been through, all the mountains we've had to climb are my fault. I am here to tell you that sometimes, things just happen. They aren't anyone's fault. And the rest...those belong to both of us. I know you feel inferior. I know you are depressed. I know you feel overweight. I know that it's been rough. I'm not mad at you for feeling the way you do about it. What I'm mad at is your lack of ambition to do anything about it. So there it is. What are you going to do to fix it?

Mr. DK: Stares at wall. For a good 10 minutes. He said NOTHING.

Me: If you think you're going to slack through this conversation and not at least come to an agreement on what the hell we're going to do...you're out of your mind. If that's the way you wanna handle it...I'll take the kids and go to Sue's.

Mr. DK: Why do you threaten me with that? Why do you think you can just walk out of here and take the kids?

Me: Oh...it's not a threat. If I go, they're going with me. That's just the way it is. The question is, is it necessary?

Mr. DK: ((Grimace. Stares at the wall some more.))

Me: Jas...do you want to be here or not? That's what I need to know. Either you want to, or you don't. But, if you intend to stay, some stuff needs to change. You need to drag your ass off the couch and find something to do that makes you happy. I'd start with getting a job. I figured that me getting one would make you ecstatic. I'll probably bring in enough to pay our rent and utilities. You get one and the rest is cake. Then we need to work on us. If we're not going to at least try to make each other happy, then we need to just stop. I don't want to hate you, but this is reminding me a lot of my last marriage towards the end. I don't want us to hate each other. We can't let it get that far. If we're going to end it, we need to do it while we're still friends.

Mr. DK: I don't want out. I don't know what I want. I don't know how to make myself happy. I just know that it's not happening now. I don't like being a dickhead all the time. I love you, and I love the kids. I do. You must know that I do. I just can't seem to get out of this mindset.

Me: Well...then let me help you. Let me help you work towards those goals. Do you want to see a counselor? We could see a marriage counselor together...or you could see a counselor on your own.

Mr. DK: Do you think it'd help?

Me: I don't know. I know it's expensive. But...worth it if it saves us from another day like any of the past 6 months.

Mr. DK: What do you want to hear?

Me: It's not ABOUT what I want to freakin' hear, Jas!

Mr. DK: Well, you want me to make you feel all warm and cozy inside, and I don't know what to say that will make that happen.

Me: It's not what you have to say that's going to count anymore. I've heard you over and over again tell me how you're going to do this and that, and then watch the good idea crumble into oblivion and never see the light of day. You're going to have to prove it with actions. Plain and simple. I've put 4 years into this relationship, and into you. Now, I want some return on my investment.

Mr. DK: Ok. I'll try. I can promise you that I'll try to be more of who I was when you met me.

Me: Ok. I can live with that. Do I have the freedom to call you an insufferable bastard when you're acting like one?

Mr. DK: Have you ever held back before?

Me: Good point. Ok. Good. We can build on this. But...this isn't one of those conversations where you get to wake up tomorrow and forget we had it. If you don't work on it, it will keep coming back to bite you in the ass, and we will end up hating each other. You know that, yes?

Mr. DK: Yes. I know.

***********************************

So...that's where we ended it. That's not verbatim, but I think I got all the points in that were stressed. I'm happy with the fact that at least I can return to my bed tonight. My shoulder's freakin' killing me.

If he doesn't buck up...I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

sdk

THIS is what I'm talking about.

2005-09-20T16:25:00.000-04:00

These people are morons. What you see here is a mother and a father, with their young child walking along a jetty as Hurricane Rita approaches.

These are the people who need to have the sense smacked into them. And...they should be charged with blatant child abuse for willingly and obviously placing their young child in harms way.

sdk

"When We Split Up, Will You Keep the Computer Or the DVD's?"

2005-09-19T23:32:00.000-04:00

Since he won't talk about it, refuses to understand why I'm upset, and is being a class A prick, he deserves for me to write about it. And, as always, I'll feel better if I do.

I'm pissed, no...scratch that, profoundly hurt by Mr. DK. It's a bit of a long story, but I'll lay it out as best as I can.

Over the past few months, he's been coming up with some interesting comments. Comments that by themselves could sound like he's kidding, but when you add them all up, generally should mean that he's actually given some serious thought to the matter.

Some of the comments are as follows:

"When we split up, will you keep the computer or the dvd's?"
"After the divorce, we'll have split custody, so there won't be any child support for either of us."
"When you leave me, the only way I won't sue for custody is if you don't go back to him."
"Your dad will still talk to me after we part ways. He loves me."

You know...that kind of stuff. Slipped into a jovial conversation when you're least expecting it. It wasn't until yesterday that I finally connected the proverbial dots and figured out that he was freakin' serious.

This is more info than y'all probably want or need to know. So, if you have an aversion to things sexual, quickly spot the red x at the top right of your screen. Come back tomorrow. Maybe I'll talk about Disney World or something then.

So, yesterday, the kids are taking naps, it's quiet. I'm feeling a bit...uh...needy. Not like "Hold me." needy. Like "Gonna need it right now." needy. So, he was upstairs doing something, and when he came back down, he was presented with a naked me, being all loveable. I was workin' it.

Do you know what he said? He actually said "Yeah...not now. I don't feel like it." I said..."Huh. Really? Cause I'm feelin' it." He said "Nope. Not at all. Put your clothes back on."

I just sat there, comletely exposed, stunned. He said "What? Now you're going to be all mad and pissy?" I replied "Nope." He said, "Whatever. Fine. Here." and started very angrily ripping off his clothes. I said "Uh...tempting, but I think not." and got up very angrily to put some clothes back on.

Then I got to thinking about it. All the things he's said over the last few months. All the romance that has been lacking, all the crankiness he's spewed for the last six months. I came to the conclusion that he's serious. He's freakin' serious. He's thought a lot about what would happen if we got a divorce, because he's actually envisioning it. He's seeing for himself how it would be, how it would work out, what to do with the kids, and he knows that the person I'm closest to, the person I had always dreamed of marrying is still yet unhitched, and he knows that it's a threat to him because he's saying that if I were to go there, and try to make something of it with that person, he would actually try and fight me for the custody of my boys.

But, here's the fun part. He's a pussy. He won't do it. He wants me to do it. He wants me to ask for the divorce, so he's going to be a miserable SOB until I do. He knows that would rip me apart worse than anything else. He knows that for me to ask for the out would destroy me. So, here we are, in a deadlock. He's putting the ball in my court so that I have to make a move.

I haven't talked to him, really since yesterday when all this happened. He has tried to talk to me here and there, but I've given him short answers. He knows damn skippy how much he hurt me yesterday. I know he does because he's half walking around here with his tail between his legs and half trying to remain somewhat cocky, as if he's trying to remember that this is part of his little game.

A little earlier he asked me what was wrong. I told him that I have a pinched nerve in my shoulder, which, by my calculations is his fault since he's a dick and I had to sleep on the couch so as to not be near him. (I'm a bitch. This is me, for better or worse.)

He said absolutely nothing in return. So, finally, I said "Do you have any idea how badly you hurt my feelings yesterday?" and he said "Why? Because I wouldn't have sex when YOU wanted it?" I said "Are you freakin' kidding me? It goes WAY beyond that." And he says, "Well, I don't know what you're so upset about. It's your problem." I said "Huh. Well, if you don't know what I'm upset about, then it's not even worth having the fucking conversation. It wouldn't do any good anyway."

So, that's where we're at. I'm wondering what's going to happen, and he's being the biggest dick he can be so I'll speed it up.

And...here's the problem. Even if he did decide he wanted to go right now...where the hell would he go? He's been layed off since the week after Logan was born. I'm about to have surgery (which I finally have confirmation we'll be scheduling on the 29th. If God loves me...it'll be next month), I am going to have to get a day job that pays me (which I truly don't have time for) and there's just all these little things that make it so this is not a good time for him to decide he wants to go live the life of a bachelor.

So, there you have it. Just when you think things can't get worse, you're proven wrong.

That's what I'm all bejiggity about.

sdk

Katrina Hits Land

2005-09-19T23:30:00.001-04:00

I don't know who deserves credit for these photos. The president of our board of directors sent them to me, and I couldn't resist posting them for you to see too. For something so terrifyingly horrible, it sure is beautiful, isn't it?

I Am Feeling Better. Thanks, Max.

2005-09-19T03:52:00.000-04:00

I definitely am feeling better. So much so that I haven't puked once in the last 48 hours, and I think we can all agree, that's just good stuff.

Today was a long, long day. I'm struggling with whether I want to just come out with it already and post it, or if I want to live in denial for a little longer before purging it from my head and heart, thus making it real. The jury's still out on what to do with the whole situation, so I think I'll just wait it out and see what happens before sharing the whole God-awful story.

I generally get through stuff that hurts and stuff that sucks by working my little heart out. Tonight, I went on a power cleaning tour around my home. My diningroom is completely moved around. My home office area is in a completely different spot. Every dish in the house has been cleaned (whether it needed it or not) and I'm feeling at least satisfied with the cleanliness of my house if nothing else.

I do really need to file...but since that is hands down my least favorite chore at home (and at the office, for that matter), I think I'll be procrastinating that task until tomorrow. Believe it or not, I still have crap in boxes that needs to be filed, from the move two months ago. Filing is not my idea of a good time, I don't care how many cool little color coded tabs and funky markers I have to do it with.

I ended up going out with Megan for a while last night. That was fun. We ended up going down to the Irish Pub that's about a mile from here and talking for a while. Well...the intention was to talk, but they had karaoke, and since I'm a karaoke whore, I just couldn't keep myself from partaking.

While we're on the subject of bars, I've got a question for my dear, sane readers. What is UP with the bar sluts nowadays? Last night, there's this girl. She can't be more than 21/22 at the most. She is out there on the dance floor with a different guy each time shaking her shit like she's a stripper. Envision this with me, if you would. Long dark hair. Decently pretty face. Tube top in fuschia that only covers her breasts. Mini skirt that you can literally see her ass in. More than a handful of flubber hanging over the top. She wasn't a fat girl, not really, but she obviously gave birth sometime in the last year and should be a little self conscious of the clothes she wore her freshman year of high school. I ask you, why? Why on Earth would any self respecting girl get out on a dance floor and dance the way she was (serious humping moves. There's no other way to put it...the girl was having her way with an imaginary person both in front of and in back of her)? It was rather disgusting. Yet, she was comfortable enough that she was doing it, and confident enough that every 12 beats or so, she'd slap her ass and run her finger from her mouth all the way down between her breasts touching herself. I'm thinking the girl needs to empty her porn stash into the garbage and start hanging out with real people so that she can see what's expected of her in society. Ewww.

Well...that's it for tonight. I'm gonna curl up on the couch and read until I fall asleep.

Goodnight!

sdk

Dang. I was wrong.

2005-09-17T13:15:00.000-04:00

Hey Mr. New Jersey guy. Yeah, you holding the winning 250 million dollar Mega Millions ticket. Great. I've got your attention. What I'd like to say to you is that if you need any creative ideas for how to use any of the money that you're now sitting on like Scrooge McDuck, I've got a couple.

Just let me know if I can be of assistance. My consulting fees are minimal. Well...when you have 250 million, they're minimal.

sdk

Blah Blah Blah

2005-09-17T02:31:00.000-04:00

I would like to tell you about the day I should have had. I should have gotten up nice and early, went jogging (or something equally stimulating), come home, had a great cup of hot coffee and a cinnamon roll. From there, I should have gotten dressed, applied make-up, and rolled my hair. I then should have left for the office for a challenging day of work. I should have taken and made calls from colleagues and families all day long. I should have had a yummy salad for lunch. After work, I should have come home, changed my clothes, and taken the boys to the Y. Then, I should have come home all tired out, to a crock-pot casserole of some sort. Then, I should have watched movies on TV, and then went to sleep.

None of this happened. Well...the movies happened...but nothing else that was in that absurd paragraph.

Shortly after I wrote the last post last night to tell you I felt pukey and was going to bed, the feeling pukey turned into actual puke. For 4 1/2 hours straight, I did nothing but hurl and attempt to hurl when there was nothing left to hurl. This is disgusting, I know. However, misery loves company, so that's why I'm telling YOU about it.

For the entire day today, all I've done is lay on the couch, with a large bucket at my side. I stayed underneath my big fat comforter, with my head perched on my pillow. I barely ventured to the bathroom to pee. (I know there's some lame rule that chicks aren't allowed to actually SAY they pee. But, since I'm not big on etiquette, I'm gonna come right out and say it. I pee. Usually a few times a day. I'm not telling you because I want you to actually THINK of me peeing...that's not it. I'm telling you more so that you'll know that the whole lame rules of etiquette deal really doesn't fly right with me. )

Anyways, point is I'm sick. Thanks to you guys who commented for me to feel better. That was very, very sweet to read. I really need to get this crap (crap being cancer and fibroids) out of me so that I can feel normal again. I am to the point that if we don't get it out sooner than later, I'm going to have quite a little tantrum at the doctor's office next time I see him. Bastard. Like I give a shit that's he's heading to Australia for the first time for two whole weeks in October. He may think that I would think it's cool...but instead it made me think he's a spoiled rotten rich boy with little to no compassion whatsoever for his patients. I mean, at least LIE to me. Tell me you're going to someplace boring for two weeks to learn better hysterectomy techniques that you'll use on me when it's surgery time. Yeah...that's a lot better than hearing about Australia and the Outback. Jerk.

Speaking of spoiled little rich boys...the Mega Millions is up to 250 Million dollars. Oh yeah. I bought tickets. Oh no...I didn't win. But...neither did anyone else. One person won 250,000. That's cool. Hell, I'd be quite happy with that. But, what it means is that it's probably going to go up another 20 mill by Tuesday.

Let's explore for just a second, what I would do with $270,000,000.00. First of all, my Daddy would be all done working. He'd have a nice place on his favorite lake to while away his time on the badassed fishing boat I bought him. He and my step-mom would have all the money they could ever need or want. That's step number one. Step two...no one I know would ever have to worry about cash flow again. Step three...the org would be set. No more budget worries for us. Step four...I'd buy land. A lot of it. The biggest chunk I could find, and I'd fill it with horses and animals that make me and the boys happy. Yeah...I'm gonna win. I can feel it.

When I do...I'll give awards for best posts on your blogs. LOL Lucrative cash benefits to those who make me smile every day.

And, since we're playing follow the train of thought...speaking of those who make me smile...I read Max's blog today. The post for September 16th has got to be the sweetest, coolest thing I've read in a long time. Max...how much you love your wife...now THAT'S sexy. I read it earlier and Mr. DK says "What are you awwing about?" I said, "Max. He calls his wife Biscuit. As in hot buttered biscuit on a cold winter's day. See....this is what I'm talking about. THIS is what I want." He says "I'm not reading it. Tell Max thanks for getting me in trouble." Ha! I didn't snap at him or anything! I just said, I want what Max's wife has. Not the man, mind you (no offense, Max...LOL) but the love he has for his wife.

Mr. DK and I are not schmoopy. You'll rarely see us holding hands or snuggling. We don't really have pet names for each other unless you count "Baby". As in "Baby...can you put the kids in bed?" or "Baby, while you're in the kitchen can you grab a..." The pet name only kicks in if one of us wants something out of the other. Otherwise we don't even address each other by a title. "Hey..." usually suffices. We've gotten so wrapped up in child rearing, the org, paying bills and life that we just don't make time for each other.

In the last year, we've been on one "date". And even that, really can't be considered a date. It was more my brother needing us after his Italian Bitch of A Girlfriend (otherwise known as "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named") of 9 years slept with his best friend and he ended up dumping her and finally working to get his life on track. We went out, had a few beers, watched his silly attempts at finding a "rebound" girl, took him to breakfast and came home. That's it.

So much for romance and dreams, huh? I'm not complaining really...I'm not a snuggly person. I think I used to be a snuggly person. But, somewhere down the line I just lost my need for it. I'm snuggly with my boys. All three of my boys always have a spot in my arms. They need it. They have all their grown up years in front of them, and I feel like they should be able to cuddle with me as much as they want and can before the world lets loose on them.

But, Mr. DK...he's not really cuddly either. The first couple of weeks we were together we cuddled a lot. But it wore off rather quickly. Why does that happen? One week you can't get enough of each other and for the next 20 years, you just co-exist as friends who procreate together? I'm done procreating now, so we're going to have to get a little more creative, I think.

Well, it's 2:28 am. Insomnia has become loathesome. I'm probably going to ask for something to help me sleep at night at the next doctor's visit. I guess I'll go read for the next few hours until my eyes give out. That's the only way I can sleep anymore...read until I zonk out with a book laying on my chest.

Goodnight!

sdk

I lied...

2005-09-15T23:56:00.000-04:00

I'm tired, am feeling a little pukey and I just don't feel like writing a long post tonight. So...I'm going to bed.

See y'all tomorrow!

Maker of awards for Sarcasm, Mind-Speaking and Piggishness...

sdk

Fun Stuff To Keep You Busy...

2005-09-15T23:02:00.000-04:00

For quite a while I've been thinking about doing a fun stuff post. But...it's sort of a pain in the ass to link it all and write it up and well...you know. But...alas, here's my list of cool stuff to do...

Consumption Junction: High on porn, but higher on REALLY funny stuff. Most of the backgrounds for my desktop are taken from the pictures archives of this site.

Acrophobia: This is seriously the best game EVER. You're given 3, 4 or 5 letters. Then, you have to make a witty, comical sentence out of the acronym. Like, for instance... BCMOP: Band Camp: My One Perversity. You play against others, when the top person hits 30 points, that person and the next person on the scoreboard do a face off. After every round, you see everyone else's answers and vote on the best one. You get points for voting on the best one, winning, and submitting the quickest answer to get a vote. My screenname there is allybeemer1. I play at night, usually.

Liquid Generation: With fun games like "Who'd You Rather" and "Whose Boobs" how could you resist?!

Imesh:Peer to Peer file sharing. If you download the newest version, it searches between a few systems. There's movies, music, programs...you know. All the good stuff. WARNING: The free version DOES contain adware. It's not THAT bad if you don't leave it on all the time and have pop-up blockers. And if it gets too burdensome...just delete the program.

Worth 1000: One of the sites you can just get lost in for HOURS. This one has photoshop contests, where individuals take photos and digitally manipulate them to create absolutely brilliant stuff. Once you start on this site, it's really tough to just walk away.

Harry Potter #4 THE NEW TRAILER: It's out. Finally. Not the BS little teaser either...a real trailer. (For those making fun of me...bite me.)

Jay Leno's Headlines: Always hillarious. Speaking of Leno...I found another link that was requested, which can be found here.

SNL: Some good downloads of past skits. Who doesn't love SNL?!

Awful Plastic Surgery: Yes, sometimes I seriously have nothing better to do.

Go Fug Yourself: All things celebrity fashion, with an evil, cynical twist. (which, for the record, is about the only way I can stand celebrity fashion...)

Calvin and Hobbes Wonderland: Ode to my favorite Tiger and waaaaaay too smart kid.

Well...those outta keep you busy for a while, and since I still have to figure out what I'm going to write about tonight for a real post...I'll close this and get on it...

sdk

HNT 6

2005-09-15T01:55:00.000-04:00

Imprints of Time

What? You haven't jumped on the HNT bandwagon yet? Go here to read the Guidelines. And get your pieces parts up so we can oogle em'! To check out what HNT is...go to Obasso's blog, oogle his goodies, then check out the comments and head on down the list for who all is participating this week!

Happy HNT everyone!

Friends

2005-09-15T01:22:00.000-04:00

Tonight, I got a surprise phone call from Megan. One of my two oldest, dearest friends. She was travelling through Jackson, on her way home from a training workshop for her job and thought about me, which of course prompted her to call. We talked for a few, and in the end, she turned around and came to hang out at my house for the evening.

I love our impromtu get-togethers. We rarely have time to see each other anymore, and during our time apart, it never really occurs to me how much I miss her. At least, not the way it sinks in right after she's left.

The cool part about Meg and I is that we can go months without speaking or saying a word to each other, but the second we're together...it's like picking up a book you just set down. We finish each others sentences, we laugh at our punchlines before they happen...we just get each other so well that we can be absent, but never really disconnected.

I'm sitting here trying to think if we've ever even had a fight...and I can't really say that we have. Certainly we've irritated the piss out of each other...that's what friends are for. But, never have we parted on a bad note or ever screamed and yelled at each other. We've never needed to...because we're so in sync, we just get it. We don't have to necessarily like what each other does...but we understand the whys of each others actions, and are able to support each other without offense. Besides the fact I know that she'd never willingly hurt me, I also know that if I'm screwing up, she's going to gently knock me back into my place without ever divulging that she knows I'm off track. It's a beautiful thing.

We have a "thing". We LOVE the movie Beaches. It's a sobfest, a chick-flick, and it's one of my favorite movies of all times. When Meg lived in Chicago, and I in Traverse City, MI I remember her calling me at least once a year absolutely sobbing. The only words she would utter were "I love you." And I would reply with "I love you too. Now, slowly push the stop button on the VCR." Sho-enough...she'd be watching Beaches. Speaking of Beaches...anyone know if that's out on DVD yet? I don't even OWN a VCR anymore! I haven't seen it in a long, long time. I could use a good sob fest.

This post has a couple of points. Obviously, one of them is that I love Meg. But the second one...

The second one is that I feel lucky to have such awesome friends. Meg is my oldest friend. We've been through everything together. But I also have 8 other friends that are perfect to me in their own sordid, quirky ways. I love all of them. Some I only get to talk to every couple of months. Some I get to see regularly. Some I never see, only email because we're so far away from each other. One, who I would classify as so much more than what the title "friend" implies, I haven't been able to talk to in a year and 11 days. But...the connection is always there. Life moves on, but so do our friendships. Even when we're busy, even when we're bogged down by the details of life we still manage to continue our friendships, in person or not.
sdk

EDITED TO ADD: You'll also be happy to know I've maxed out my Flickr account (link to the right) with new photos. I'll add more next month. There's 65 photos on there now...kids, animals, family...you know. The norm.

Random Memory #1: The Worst Day Of My Life

2005-09-13T15:37:00.000-04:00

I sit here, wanting to write, but unsure of what to write about. I have some unslotted time, and unfortunately, inspiration hasn't made it's way to my brain today.

I think to myself...if I were my readers, what would I want to read about? Still...nothing comes to me. Because, most of my readers don't know me that well, therefore don't know of any of my quirky little life stories that have occurred over the past 29 years. So, I think I'll just take a random memory and go with it. Maybe I'll do a once a week random memory post. Pssht. Yeah right. We all know that when I tell you I'm going to do such a thing that it never actually works out that I follow through with it. Something always happens where I end up not writing about whatever I told you I'd write about and I end up with something else instead.

So, here's my shot at Random Memory Tuesdays. It probably won't catch on like the wildfire that is HNT, but we can try anyways...right?

The Worst Day of My Life

It began at approximately 2:30 am. There's a knock on the sliding patio door. I stumble to the door, tripping over toys and the cat to see who the hell is knocking at this God-Forsaken hour.
At the door is Emily, my little brother CJ's girlfriend of several years. She's bawling her eyes out. I said "Em...what's going on? Come in. What do you need?" Through sobs, she tells me that my brother, after leaving a crackhouse, got pulled over and after the officer executed a search on the little dumbass, found an "eight-ball" in his pocket. They took him to jail, and she doesn't know what to do. She said that his arraignment would be in the morning, and wanted to know if she could stay at my house until then. No problem. I'd be interested in chewing a piece of his butt as soon as possible as well.

The more I think about this, the more pissed I got. At 3:30am, I call Uncle Jimmy to give him a piece of my mind. He never got a word in through my rant. "You SONOFABITCH. Is THIS how you decide to take care of Cj? By putting him in touch with your contacts for CRACK?! You miserable piece of shit? You just wait until I tell my dad about this. You're done. Done. In case you're wondering what all this is a-fuckin-bout, Cj got pulled over tonight leaving one of your little buddy's houses and was found carrying crack. Crack! He's still a kid for crying out loud."

The conversation closes by him trying to defend himself and me slamming the phone down in his ear.

The next morning, I get dressed, get Alex dressed (He was 1 1/2 or 2 at the time) and head with Emily to the Justice Center for Cj's arraignment. Alex is acting up, so I send Emily in ahead of us into the courtroom, while me and Alex wait in the hall. So, Cj is in the courtroom, learning that he's going to get an assload of probation time for his indescretion, and meanwhile, I'm chasing Alex around in the hallway.

There are a series of doorways that lead into small conference rooms in the Justice Center outside of the courtrooms. These rooms are used for lawyer/defendant meetings etc. Well, Alex, went into one and began shutting the door. I scream "Alex! No!" and proceed on a dead run for the door that I am sure will lock once it's shut. I get just to the door, it slams shut and my ankle turns, all the way over, with boots with a 2 inch heel on them. So, now, my son is locked in a room (at least I think he's locked in there, I can't really remember if it truly was locked or not) and I'm howling on the floor in some serious pain, attracting all sorts of attention. I beg Emily to take Alex so I can go to the ER.

I go to the ER and, as I thought, it's broken. I spend a good 4-5 hours there, while we're messing around with that. All this time, I still have no idea what's happened with Cj and if he's really going to stay in jail or what's going to happen. They prescribe me some decent pain killers, and discharge me.

I go home, to find Emily and Cj at my apartment with Alex. Cj needs a ride to work because his license is now suspended. Cj's full of fun little comments about his being a criminal. This was the first real time he got in a lot of trouble. Before this, it was always minor stuff. He asks me if I can drive him. Of course I want to drive an hour away. It was my right ankle that's broken, aka - the gas foot. I was so excited, I wanted to strangle him.

So, we go. For the entire ride I hear about how he didn't KNOW it was a crack house. Of course he didn't. The crack has a life of its own and somehow thought he'd be a good target to ride home with.

I drop him off at his job, and head back for Battle Creek.

Once I arrived in Battle Creek, I decided to stop at Rite-Aid to get my pain script filled. This should have been an uneventful spot in this fucked up day. But...not to disappoint...

After I get the script, I hobble back out to the van. I notice something amiss from the door of the pharmacy. There is a dent, and a new color all down the side of the van. I get to the van, and find a yellow car (who knows what kind) has hit my vehicle. All down the passenger side of the van there is a long strip of yellow. No note or anything. Normally, this would have me hoppin' pissed mad, but on this particular day...I found it funny. Absolutely hysterical.

I go home. Crawl in bed, take a pain killer and think the day is over. Oh, silly, silly me.

Little while later, I hear the slider open and close. In walks the love of my life. Before we go any further, I want to make sure we all know that I'm not re-telling this story to make him feel guilty about this day, which I know he does. He's a self proclaimed pig, he's sarcastic, he's funny...and I love all these things about him. I'm retelling this story because it's funny. All of it, even his part of it.

So, in he walks. He comes in and snuggles with me a bit. He asked how my day went. I laugh. I proceed to tell him how the day had unfolded, and as I told him, I actually saw the humor in all of it. Until...

He stands up, abruptly and says "You're life is entirely too fucked up for me. I'll call you." And out he walks.

I waited, and waited, thinking he was kidding, for him to come back. At one point, I even got up and went into the kitchen thinking he was hiding in there, waiting to execute the punch line. I opened the door to the hall of the apartment complex...no one there. I look down the sidewalk at the back door slider to not see his SUV. I sat there, a little stunned and said outloud..."What the fuck?!"

So, I go back in and lay down on the couch reflecting on the day. What the hell had I done to deserve this karma?! Was I paying for things I would do later? Like, karma in advance?

I fell asleep in tears. I don't know how long I slept for, but was awakened again by a knock on the slider door. I'm thinking that he's come back to execute that punch line I had been waiting for. Like he had just wanted to give me time to get spooked about it. I was wrong. Uncle Jimmy pokes his head in. "You sleepin'?" I groggily sit up to look at him, glare, and slam my head back down on the throw pillow.

I asked him what he wanted. He (and his buddy...Hightower, they call him ((nice))) came to see how I was doing...they had heard from my brother what happened, and he wanted to continue the conversation we had the night before at 3:30am about how he was responsible for screwing up my brother's life.

I begged him to go away, that I just wasn't up for this conversation now. I told him what all had happened that day, and ended with how the guy I was supposed to marry just told me pretty much that we were done.

He plugged on anyways and gave me one of those "High Moral Standards" speeches that I so love. Finally, I get him out of my apartment.

It's after midnight at this point, and I decide to take another pain killer. So, I go to my desk where I had put them (and where my uncle's buddy had been sitting the entire time he was there) and found that they were missing. No where to be found.

To top the entire day off...my uncle's SOB friend, stole my damn pain killers.

How's that for a day? LOL

Just FYI...the said love of my life ended up calling me a few days later and we worked it out. And, I can't really say I blame him for feeling the way he did about the day. It was, afterall, the worst day of my life.

That's Always Nice.

2005-09-13T00:34:00.000-04:00

I'm broke. This isn't a surprise, as I don't pull a salary from our organization. So, I was looking at part time help wanted ads in the newspaper. Mr. DK was sitting nearby, and I just knew you'd want in on this conversation, so I'm here to share it with you.

Me: All of these are either 40 hours, which I don't have time for, or something I probably out to not do unless I want my face plastered on every television screen within 100 miles.

Mr. DK: Oh yeah? Like what?

Me: Showgirls Lounge, stripper, or wait...wait...waitress. Drunk guys and money. That's a great combination. But they'd probably want me to go topless or something, and that's not happening.

Mr. DK: Uh...no offense, but I don't think they'd want you to take off your top.

Me (Evil glare brewing): What? I know that my mom boobs aren't exactly staring at the sky, but you're not supposed to SAY it.

Mr. DK: No, no...I'm just sayin'...They're looking for like Carmen Electra type boobs.

Me: And, what type boobs are mine?

Mr. DK: You're taking this wrong. I'm saying they like bought and paid for boobs.

Me: You evaded the question.

Mr. DK: They don't have a type. Sigh...

Me: Oh, I believe they do, and you're just to chicken to say it.

Mr. DK: Is there any way to win here?

Me: That's yet to be seen.

Mr. DK: You have perfect boobs.

Me: Uh huh. And, I hope they look good in your memory because they don't come out for people who are mean to them.

Mr. DK: Seriously. They're great.

Me: Keep digging.

Mr. DK: You don't have time to go waitressing anyway. We'll be fine. Don't worry about finding a job. It's my problem.

Me: Uh huh. Now I have bad boobs, and you want to take care of me cause they won't cut the mustard at Showgirls?

Mr. DK: You're giving me a headache. There's nothing wrong with your boobs.

Me: Oh, apparently there is, because if there weren't, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

Mr. DK: What happened to that whole brutal honesty deal. Like on Anna's blog?

Me: It has to be solicited. I didn't solicit it, you just said it.

Mr. DK: I give up. I'm going upstairs to clean out the closet.

You know it's good if he's cleaning to get away from you. Heh.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Nothing great happened today. I'm back to working on the company website. I need to get it done before I go in for surgery.

Speaking of surgery...looks like we're moving that up. Apparently that's what's causing my headaches, nausea, dizziness, general pissiness and pain. My landlord asked me if I was pregnant yesterday. No.....I have 8 fibroids that are growing in my uterus making it look like I'm pregnant. So...I'll hopefully find out Friday which day we're doing that next month.

Ummmm...what else? Not a whole lot I can think of. So, I'll end the night with a link that were requested for Kimmel, Leno, and Konan. I could only find one for Kimmel. One comment I have for your site is that you should add captions to your photos, and the ones on the sidebar...make them so you can click on them and enlarge them so you can see them.

Kimmel

We Will Never Forget

2005-09-11T01:56:00.000-04:00

Warning:

2005-09-10T14:47:00.000-04:00

Warning: If I happen upon your blog and it has any funky new banners that tell us that Bush should be impeached or if you've posted any new coalition bullshit to get the man impeached...that will be the last time I visit your blog.

I don't believe that this is the time we should be going for a new President. Election time will be a fine time for that. It's really not that far off. If you think that impeaching him is the way to go, you're a moron.

To impeach him now will leave us far more vulnerable than the hurricane has. I'm so sick and tired of these tree huggers that scream foul everytime something happens.

There. I've said my peace. If you've got the coalition bullshit on your site, I'm done being a fan, no matter how witty and cool you are.

sdk

Now What?

2005-09-09T23:21:00.000-04:00

What do you blog about when you're tired of being pissed off and frustrated, and yet that's the only thing that you can concentrate on?

#1's second week of school came to a close today. He says he likes his teacher but that she constantly clears her throat and it drives him insane to the point he can't concentrate. That's always nice. The kid is 6. He has a lot of those little qualities himself, and he's not supposed to be noticing it in others yet.

We've decided against preschool for #2. He already knows his colors, shapes (even the hard ones) alphabet, letters and numbers. He can count to 100. Pre-school isn't going to teach him anything except for a set schedule and socialization. So, he's taking junior karate and swimming lessons instead. He's entirely too smart for his own good. He talks well, but still not good enough that you don't have to bend your ear a little to understand. #1 took off his gym shoes today when he got home and #2 said "Ay-ex (alex) yous feet are disdusting." Awww. Sibling love at its finest right there.

At some point over the weekend, I'm going to need to call FEMA in to clean my house. I hear Michael Brown's not busy...(I wouldn't trust him with my freakin' dishes...who am I kidding?"

I'm glad you (you know who you are) decided to write blog entries on your site instead of leaving it static. I love reading your life, and its nice that you are updating it regularly. It cuts down on me reading and re-reading everything you wrote 50 times a day. Thank you. And, I might have some idea of where you have said it before. I know I've heard it before, but it had nothing whatsoever to do with football. Have fun on the trip.

We joined the YMCA. There are no good gyms around here and we figured that the kids would have a good time there too. Rock climbing, swimming, basketball, weight rooms...and classes. Loads of classes. I thought my kick boxing class started this week but its not until the end of the month. This is my only salvation for moving a block and a half from Dairy Queen. Fucking twist cones anyway.

Well, I guess that'll do it for the night.

sdk

Michael Brown...You're a Dumbass.

2005-09-09T14:28:00.000-04:00

For those who don't know who Michael Brown is, you will soon, unless of course you live under a rock or are somehow oblivious to what is going on around us.

Michael Brown is the current (at least as of this writing he is) FEMA Director. Nominated by George Bush himself, Michael Brown took over the position as FEMA Director in 2001. Time did a little investigation on him after he royally fucked up the Katrina situation, and came out with some interesting information.

His resume....fudged. 90% of it was pure bullshit. His online resume shows that he received an outstanding professor award...a call into the school said that while he was never a professor there, he was a student...

He wrote that he was the Director of a nursing home. A call put into the Nursing Home staff said they didn't have a board of directors anymore, and hadn't had one for the last 5 years, but even so had never heard of Michael Brown's name.

Ok. I'm not one to criticize in a situation like this. But, BUT...WHAT THE FUCK IS OUR FEDERAL GOVERNMENT THINKING?!

At this point, I am more qualified than he is to head up the entire Katrina catastrophe.

So here we are in the wake of the nations biggest natural disaster in 50 years, and we've got a wanker in charge of it all.

As of 1:28pm this afternoon, he was relieved of his Katrina duties in Baton Rouge and was on his way back to DC. Thad Allen, the Coast Guard Vice Admin was stepping in to take over. So far, his resignation hasn't been received nor asked for...but it had BETTER be on it's way.

Now, here's my personal thoughts on this. I've had about as much as I can take on this whole thing without blowing a gasket. So, I present...my gasket.

Before 9/11 FEMA was able to pinpoint what the three major disasters in the US that would leave us vulnerable and demolished were: 1) A terrorist attack in NY. 2) A major hurricane in NOLA and 3) A Major Earthquake on the San Andreas Fault in California.

2 of the three things have happened. There's an 80-90% chance of the third happening before 2024. So, why aren't the officials and powers that be making sure that they're ready for when it does? I read reports yesterday that NOLA's people (officials/government) knew. They were given government funds to fix and ready their buildings for such a tragedy. But...BUT...they didn't use those funds. Instead 75-90% of the people received extensions on their deadlines for readying their buildings until 2006-2008.

Everyone (including myself) keeps saying that the officials are heartbroken etc, and we need to hold off our criticsism until after we've had a chance to survey the damage. But...(and walk with me a second on this one) since they're too busy talking about what needs to be done and not doing it, and not keeping me otherwise occupied, I've got plenty of time to think about and mull over WHY I'm pissed at these people.

It's the mayor's and the governor's JOBS to make sure that these things happen. If I receive a grant for a specific purpose, I HAVE to use the money FOR that purpose. Why the hell is the governor or the mayor any different?

Then, FEMA...and their gigantasaur fuck-up, Michael Brown...are you kidding me? Those people were sitting ducks. We had enough time to get everyone safely evacuated, and the crews should have been there the next morning for continued evacuation, search and rescue and search and recovery. But, that didn't happen. Instead, looting and riots and all this bullshit happened.

And, while I'm ranting, lets talk about the evacuee shelters in other states. Let's talk about the one right here in Michigan. Our evacuees are tax-paying voters. Citizens of the United States. They are being treated like prisoners, and THAT'S pissing me off. Jennifer Granholm was at the Fort day before last right here in Michigan. The woman came an hair from getting a piece of my mind. She seriously has nothing better do do than to sit on top of us and make sure that the evacuees only get one toothbrush, not two. One washcloth, not two. She's not utilizing her resources to reach the end goal, she's keeping us busy with mundane bullshit and condescending us with smiles and pats on the back as if we're stupid enough to fall for her shit.

And, I learned last night that our evacuees aren't allowed to leave the Fort. Why not?! Are they in danger of finding a job, an apartment and possibly life outside Jenny's little thumbhold? If anyone told me I had to stay in an area after they'd moved me across the nation from my home, family and everything that was natural to me, and then told me I couldn't leave...I'd be knocking someone out.

There.

sdk

HNT 5

2005-09-08T11:39:00.001-04:00

Thank you for the reminder, David!

What? You haven't jumped on the HNT bandwagon yet? Go here to read the Guidelines. And get your pieces parts up so we can oogle em'! To check out what HNT is...go to Obasso's blog, oogle his goodies, then check out the comments and head on down the list for who all is participating this week!
Happy HNT everyone!

Common Sense: Not So Common

2005-09-07T01:30:00.000-04:00

I think we really need to take a look at the phrase "Common Sense" from a current, new world perspective. It is my opinion that we rely on each individual to possess a certain amount of this so called substance, and I'm beginning to truly believe that by doing so, we are just making our own lives and those around us, by far...worse.

Today, I'm in here, on the phone, sitting at the computer working on this FEMA project for Katrina, and I hear a loud screech, a big bang and then "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKIN' BITCH!!!" I politely let the person I was talking to go, tossed the phone to Mr. DK, instructed him to call 911 and then bolted out the door. In the middle of the intersection near my house, there's a black Harley laying on its side, with it's driver lying a good 20 feet from the bike in the middle of the road. I see no car anywhere, no traffic...nothing. The only movement I see is people emerging from their homes to see what the hell is going on, and the driver of the Harley flipping the bird with both hands and a very angry grimace towards the street that runs west.

I get out there talk to him, and try to assess his damage. I let him know that help is on its way, but that I am trained First Response, and that I can help. He says his shoulder hurts, his arm hurts and his bike "FUCKIN' HURTS". Cool. He's talking, he's pissed...this is good. Pissed is great. I ask what happened, and he said this chick in a blue cavalier ran the stop sign, coming from the east. He was travelling north on the other side. She didn't even pause at the stop sign...she just flew right on through, though she did break for the car that was in front of him, but accelerated when she saw him. Then...she just kept on going.

Another girl arrives on scene. She says she saw and knows who did it. The girl is 17 years old, by the name of Ashley Grove...(did you get that?) ASHLEY GROVE of JACKSON, MI who hit him and ran. Perfect. We've now got a suspect, the make and model of the car, law enforcement is on it's way, and our guy, while certainly banged up and pissed, is going to live to ride that gorgeous bike again.

Turns out our victim is a retired deputy of the Jackson Sheriff's dept. He has his gun on him. He advises me he's got it, and when law enforcement arrives, he advises them that he's got it. I love it when people play by the rules. Good stuff.

So, back to the common sense issue. For us, it's common sense that a person is going to stop at stop signs, that they'll at least pretend to obey traffic laws, and certainly, if they hit a 300 pound Harley...that they'll at least stop. NO. We have it wrong. Not everyone plays by those rules. I'd like to think that most of us do, but apparently, not so much.

We can apply this same line of thinking to every other aspect of our lives too. "Honey...did you take the garbage out?" "Nope." "Well, it's Tuesday night, they pick up on Wednesday, common sense would tell you that you outta get it out there." Uh huh. Not so much.

So, how do we avoid just assuming that others have it? And how do we tell, from a purely judgemental and once-over standpoint, if they have it or if they don't? I mean...you look at someone and their personality could differ 100% from what you THOUGHT they should act like.

Good Lord. We get the answer to this question...and we've got it made. Everyone that's got the Common Sense Gene...hop on my boat. Everyone who's not...you and Ashley Grove (of Jackson, MI) need to go dive off a cliff. You're breathing my oxygen, you're wasting my time, my energy, Mr. Harley guy's money on insurance rates, and you're pissing me off.

sdk

Do you ever?

2005-09-06T02:50:00.000-04:00

Do you ever look back upon your choices and wonder how differently things would have turned out had you travelled the other road?

I try hard not to do just that. It pains me to do it because deep down, I know that my life could be very different than it is right now with one very large decision. I don't really want to go into what that decision was because, well, that pains me too, and the only other person it truly means something to knows very well what I'm talking about. I'm not saying that I would've made the other choice if I had the chance to do it all over again. I'm not, because even if I had it to do all over again, I'm not sure I'd be brave enough or have the cajones or the proverbial balls that everyone's always talking about to make that decision. And, had I made it, I wouldn't have what I have now, and that is something I don't even want to think about. But still...what if?

I try very hard not to compare what my life is now with the decision that defined it all. But, sometimes I can't help myself. Would my organization be where it is now? Would I be enjoying a happier and more satisfying intellectual level? Would I have a third child? Would I be as much in love as I always have been after all the time that's passed, but in person? What would it be like?

People always say to leave the past in the past, but for whatever reason, with this, it just never works out that way. I can't. Because we both know that sort of energy, that sort of spark is few and far between. My heart broke as much as I was in love too. I will be forever sorry...no, not sorry, sorry doesn't even begin to cover how I feel, but it's the only word that works - - maybe mournful? for the pain that I've caused us both. It is my fault, and I know that. I don't know if or how I could have changed it for it to be right. I might never know. But it's forever in my heart and mind, and I'm not at all sure if that pain will ever stop. Just know that there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it.

For everyone that's reading this thinking "What the hell is she talking about?"...I can't even begin to explain, I just don't have it in me to go through the entire thing to try to help you understand something you'd only get by experiencing it. But, to you, the person who knows damn well what I'm talking about...my heart still hurts as much today as it did then. You are obviously doing very well. And you look great. I look every day and I'm very proud of you.

sdk

Response to Harlin's Post:

2005-09-05T18:45:00.000-04:00

Harlin Seritt writes:

"It's a hard old world. Sometimes, you can do absolutely nothing when disaster strikes. I lived through something similar (though on a far smaller scale) when Hurricane Frederic struck Mobile, Alabama in 1979. We were without electricity and safe water for 2 weeks. When you're a kid you don't seem to mind it as much though. I remember thinking it was great that we didn't have to go to school for about a month (though we did pay for it later in the summer with some Saturday sessions). My father made us work during our reprieve from school by cleaning up the remains of a huge oak tree that had fallen on our house. While this may have been considered tough at the time, it in no way compares to the situation in the Gulf Coast today.

It is definitely true that disasters bring out the extremes in peoples' personalities. Some rise to the occasion, a few completely fall apart and others exploit the situation with violence or inciteful speech. I honestly offer no real solutions to a situation as we're seeing in Katrina except faith. Faith is one of those seemingly irrational expressions of the human condition when a person realizes they are in a situation they cannot control.

I am a Christian, however, I do realize there are other people out there who are members of other faiths. As a result, I cannot help but acknowledge that other people with beliefs other than my own are sustained by their individual faith in times of trouble. I realize there are no doubt many people who stroll on these boards that are Atheists or believe that God may exist but that He is unknowable. I would be curious to know how you get along when you're in a situation you have absolutely no control over. Are you stoic? Do you despair? Do you blame others? Or do you console yourself at least that this was something you could have prevented being part of and resolve to be more careful in the future?

I am honestly curious and I realize that people who have faith and are devout also have some of these same negative emotions when in a crisis. So, this is no indictment on people of other faiths or those with no faith -- I'm just soliciting some feedback. I would really be interested in hearing your take on things like this. "

Dear Harlin,

What you ask is very thought provoking. Many times, when our faith is called upon to help us through a situation, such as what is happening on our Gulf Coast, we tend to wiggle by, and we don't think about it much. We certainly don't shout it from the highest mountain tops how we feel for fear of what others might think, or how others may perceive us.

I find it very interesting that throughout this entire ordeal thus far, I've not heard Katrina referred to as "An Act of God". Not once. I've seen it called a "catastrophe" a "devastation" and a "Force of Nature", but not an "Act of God".

For me, the answers to your questions are fairly complex. And, they change with every situation. I founded and run a non-profit that deals with missing persons cases. Every single case is different, and every case presents very difficult and very challenging circumstances. I would say that I am unwavering in my faith. I know what I believe and I've found it to work itself out and show its credibility every single time.

That being said, when faced with uncontrollable circumstances, I find that I excel. It's a wonderful "safety mechanism" that was built into me sometime during my mother's death. If I can take control of the aftermath and work towards the solution, then I can survive and sleep with myself at night. If I don't...that is that I don't work to become part of the solution, I suffer from insomnia, anxiety attacks and headaches. The other night I had the migraine to beat all migraines, and it came from my inability to do anything for those people on the Gulf Coast. We are raising money, we've filled trailers with supplies and we have more going, we've readied our dogs to be dispatched (they leave Tuesday, as of right now) but I can't physically get there and do it myself. And, it's through that fact that I suffer. There's nothing that I can personally, physically do.

So, it's left up to fate and/or faith, however you look at it. It will work out exactly the way it is supposed to, and there's nothing you nor I can do to influence it.

As far as the looters and the anarchy that is happening down there is concerned...it's just beyond my comprehension. One of my handlers called me a few days ago just sobbing. She said that one of the cadaver dogs on another team down there was shot and killed by one of the evil-doers. I just don't understand it. They're there to help. They're there, putting their own lives in danger to help, and when I say putting themselves in danger...I mean from the elements, I mean from the filth, from the water and the general devastation that is there. I don't mean by the people. It shouldn't be by the people.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the officials are trying to help. It's not going to make it happen any faster by demeaning them and calling them on errors made. There will be plenty of time for all of that much later. So, for me, I don't understand the civil disobedience that's going on aimed at the officials. The officials don't have any more control over what's going on than you or I. So...for me, I still don't understand how they (the looters) are justifying what they are doing. Survival instinct doesn't equal killing or assaulting others. THAT is against human nature.

I'm a believer that in general, people are good. Even through all the hatred and evil that I've seen. I refuse to believe that if you put 10 people in a situation where only one is allowed to come out alive that between the 10 of them, they can't come up with a reasonable solution that equals life for all. It's all in your perception of what's right and wrong. If you believe that you have to kill the other 9 to get out, then I guess that's right for you, but it doesn't mean it's right. If I were in that room...I'd be putting all of my energy into the solution to get us all out alive...

But, that's just me.

sdk

HNT4 On Time Even!

2005-09-01T01:01:00.000-04:00

***Ahem...David...E-Mail...where is it? (xoxo...still love ya)

It's HNT once again, and I'm proud to say I remembered all on my own. Go me. This isn't the best picture, but I'm a little short on time this week, so I just cropped down an old picture of me.

Happy HNT everyone!

sdk

Water and Ice/ Thoughts on Katrina

2005-08-31T22:27:00.000-04:00

I'd like to announce that MYF, along with JD's Country Connection and our President, Sue Bess have been able to secure 10 loads of ice and water down to Katrina's victims. It is possible for us to get more. We have at least one more truck to fill, and if we are able to get more water and ice, we'll be able to secure more trucks. If you would like to contribute to the Ice/Water campaign, you can do so through MYF. It is tax deductible, and will be greatly appreciated. The address for the office is:

Missing You Foundation
300 Napoleon Road
Michigan Center, Michigan 49254

Checks and money orders should be made out to Missing You Foundation. In the memo line, please write "Katrina Victims". This will earmark your funds to go to specifically that.

If you've never been in a situation like this, you couldn't possibly understand just how much water and ice are needed down there. They have nothing to drink. The SAR people working on the rescue efforts have nothing to drink.

You know...I sit here, writing about stuff that doesn't matter. My headache. My sister's dumbness. And it's hard. Does anything really matter anymore? Does any of our little problems REALLY have ANYTHING to do with the overall picture of our lives? I don't think they do.

The looters are taking over the city. The city isn't in a position to fight back. The talking heads keep saying that NOLA was lucky. Were they lucky?! I don't think they were. We're talking about total devastation. What exactly is our perception of total devastation? Does the entire city have to be quiet, not a sound made, not a building standing to achieve such a classification? Does it? Because if you look at the photos, if you see what's taking place down there it sure as hell looks like total devastation to me. Not just to NOLA, but to Mississippi, to Shreveport, to Biloxi to Gulfport...to any town that is anywhere near that Godforsaken coast.

And...is it over? Or, while all of our SAR teams and environmental teams, and the Coast Guard are down there busting their asses to save the scraps of humanity that are left, is another hurricane going to sweep in and just pummel the hell out of them again?

Normally, NORMALLY I have quite a bit of respect for President Bush. I may not always respect his decisions. I may not always agree with what he does, but today, I saw the picture of him looking out of the window on AirForce One, and I literally wanted to throw up. I had a physical reaction to that photo. He wanted to see it with his own eyes...I get it. But to have that picture taken of him in his cushy little leather recliner on the Presidential aircraft, rubbernecking at what is going on...I found it...distasteful. Open up the floodgates, help be part of the solution. Help come up with some idea of what to do with the dead, figure out how theyr'e going to treat the injured and sick. Order empty apartment complexes finished, and the cruise lines....put our refugees in there.

One moment you're there in your home and you believe that everything is going to be ok. So much so that you kept your small children in your home with you to ride out this storm. You believe in your heart that your home will withstand the elements and you'll be fine. Instead, Katrina made a believer out of you. That's just incredibly sad to me. I read one headline that said "Die Hards will do just that: Die Hard"

One more note...9/11 caught us with our pants down. I would have thought that we as American's would have learned something from that. No one is exempt. No one is safe. Whether it be from Terrorism or Mother Nature...we need to be prepared. We have the technology to beat things like this. We had the technology that told these people to get out. And, thankfully, 80% did. From NOLA, anyway. But, the other places that were also near didn't get quite the same warnings. I'll concede that much. The national syndicates were hell bent on covering NOLA and only NOLA. But, my point is, that if you're told to get the hell out of dodge...DO IT. Your things are replaceable. You are not.

My heart breaks for these people. Just breaks. I want you to know that while I may write about other things in the coming weeks, that Katrina's wrath isn't being slighted, we're working our asses off to help in more ways than one. But...I need to keep sane too. So, if I happen to write about how stupid my sister is or how if the cat poops on the floor one more time he may learn what it's like to sleep in the elements...it's not because I don't care about what Katrina has done. I do, with all my heart. But, I come here to collect my thoughts...whatever they may be.

Uggg. My heart is so heavy. I want to be down there, RIGHT NOW. I know that I can't be and that is even more infuriating. But what counts is we're trying. Now, if we all, as a country would try we'd be able to get it taken care of in no time. Let's think about that...

If you have any more ideas other than sending in our SAR teams (when they can accommodate more people), sending ice and water and sending coordinators to help organize...I'm all ears. I'm looking for that epiphany for what we can do to make a difference. Tell me and I'm all over it. I am resourceful and I have amazing ways to do things with little money. You just tell me what you think needs to be done and we'll try...

sdk

I'm losing my own bet...

2005-08-31T18:16:00.000-04:00

For those who are new here, my sister called a few weeks back and announced she was gay. I've been pretty busy lately, and really haven't had the time (or the memory to remember) to continue with the countdown. I didn't think it'd last more than 2 weeks. My sister has been blowing up my phone for the past several days and I've delightfully been avoiding her like the plague (not because she's gay, because she's stupid). She finally nailed me on the phone a bit ago. I'd like to share that conversation.

Amanda: It's about time you answer your damn phone.

Me: Oh. (mutter under my breath damnit) Hey. You still gay?

Amanda: Now, why would you ask me that? Isn't that a little rude?

Me: Uh huh. So...are you?

Amanda: Why do you want to know?

Me: We're doing a countdown on my blog. Some are even wagering bets how long you stay gay.

Amanda: WHAT?! Why would you do that? You are such a bitch.

Me: Look...I enjoy entertainment, and you can't just call me and tell me you're gay after sleeping with half of the continent's men and not have me find that entertaining. If you don't want people to know, don't tell anyone. Go back to your closet. So, are you or not? My readers need to know.

Amanda: God you suck. It's more of a bi-sexual thing. I'm not really gay. I mean, I'm still sleeping with Joe too.

Me: Oh. Well, that's comforting. I'm sure Hilary enjoys the double dipping.

Amanda: Hilary is a cool person. You wouldn't understand.

Me: Oh? Why is that?

Amanda: Because you are narrow minded. You think that gay people are bad.

Me: NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. That's not IT, Amanda. I don't think GAY people are bad. I think YOU are bad. I think that you are so confused as to what you really want, you have no idea which way to turn. You're going to end up hurting that girl, and that's not really fair. The way I see it, you're using her to get by whatever it is that's all screwed up in your life right now.

Amanda: I'm bad? You think I'M bad?

Me: Yep. You're going to end up with therapy bills so high for you AND your children that your KIDS are going to have to remortgage their homes.

Amanda: I hate you.

Me: Really? I love you. And, it's further entertaining to irritate you. This is fun.

Amanda: I don't know how much longer I'm going to be with her anyway.

Me: Oh? Reeeeaaaaally? (heh heh) Why not?

Amanda: She's clingy. She can't handle it when I want to leave the house.

Me: Huh. Is it that, or is she tired of being your built in babysitter so you can go screw Joe on the side?

Amanda: She's great with the kids.

Me: Yeah, I'd be careful with that. I wouldn't push the kids off on her all the time. That may have something to do with why she's balking at you leaving.

Amanda (suddenly enraged): I hate you. All you ever do is bitch at me.

Me: Uh huh. And all YOU ever do is call me when you think I outta be paying attention to you. You don't take into account how I feel at all. So...blow me.

Amanda: What's going on with you?

Me: Oh. How kind of you to ask.

Amanda: I have to have a hysterectomy. It's worse than yours.

Me: Really? I have cancer...how much worse can it get?

Amanda: Oh. I forgot you have cancer.

Me: Interestingly enough, that doesn't surprise me.

Amanda: It's always all about you, you, you.

Me: Oh...look at that my phone's going dead.

Amanda: Fine. I'll call you later.

Me: I'll call you when I have time to deal with your shit. That won't be this week. Probably not next week either.

Amanda: Love you.

Me: You too.

CoughBULLSHITCough

2005-08-31T16:52:00.000-04:00

Just FYI...I took this picture about a half hour ago. This is what I call Rifriggindiculous.

While I'd love to believe that we're really this far in the hole when it comes to our fossil fuels, I'm having a hard time understanding how our government expects us to live like this on our current salaries. Just my gripe for the day. BTW...this is the gas station that is within walking distance from my home.

Excrutiating Pain

2005-08-31T14:19:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I woke up with a migraine. I am prone to migraines, but I don't get them often, and when I do, I've learned how to cope so that I can still function to some extent. But, yesterday, it was absolutely horrendous.

I'm not normally the whiney type. I mean, I whine, but not about pain. I whine about things like my computer connection not being fast enough, or that I have to use the company cell phone instead of my own...you know things that I could do something about if I weren't so damn lazy.

But, yesterday the pain I felt in my head caused an excessive amount of whining. I sometimes have blackouts caused by a heart disease called Vasso-Depressor-Discopy. I have no clue what that really means, but for me it means that my heart doesn't pump enough blood to my brain sometimes. So, I blackout, fall down and then my head is on a level playing field with my heart...in other words, the blackout is a safety mechanism that knocks my butt out so that my brain is level with my heart, thus causing my heart to not have to pump so hard to get that blood up there.

Where was I going with this? Oh! I remember. So, sometimes, after a blackout or a near blackout, the back of my head (like where the head connects to the spine - in the neck area, but high on the back of the neck) my head will throb very painful throbs. But, generally after a blackout, it's only a few pulses of that pain and it's over with. Yesterday it just pulsed and pulsed and pulsed and...it never went away.

At 4:00 I took two 500mg Hydrocodone pills that were leftover from my C/Section in March. (I'm not meant to take recreational or prescribed drugs. It's just not in me. I have like 3 refills left on that script, and there are now 5 pills missing from the original prescription). Drugs make me ill. Any drugs. Once, when I was 19, I smoked marijuana with my little brother and passed out in the driveway for 3 hours. See...just not meant to do such things. Anyways...so I took those two pills (vicodin) at 4. It took the edge off it a little and caused me to stop throwing up for a good hour. Not that there was anything left to throw up, I had the dry heaves for hours.

At 6 (a mere two hours later) the pain was back with full force, so I took another one. That didn't even touch the pain at all. I tried and tried to go to sleep. But, with the dry heaves, feeling like your lying in a lava pit, and feeling like if you had a button to spontaneously eject your head from your body, you'd be using all your body weight to heave on that button...it just wasn't happening.

I ended up taking my pillow, my puke-pan and my cold wet washcloth (to drape over my eyes) downstairs with the intent of lying on the floor next to Mr. DK so he could make me feel better. I took my pillow, pushed it up against his legs (he was lying on the floor playing PS2, which by the way now works again after Sam #2, 3 year old, put Febreeze in it last week...and almost got written out of the will over it.) and said "Honey...make me feel better." Do you know what he said to me?

The insensitive ass said, and I quote: "I could punch you in the face, and you'd be knocked out, thus feeling no more pain..."

I then promptly starting puking again, and after I was done hurling, I actually wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, turned, glared at him and wiped my hand on his shirt. And that in my world is pretty good retribution. He's got a vomit phobia. Everytime the kids hurl, he's always nailed, and this makes me smile. Now I have officially contributed to his phobia. ***Warm Fuzzy***

I'm feeling a bit better today. I was able to catch it in time today. I woke up, it started to throb a little so I gave myself a shot of Imitrex in my upper thigh. Imitrex only works for me if you get it before the migraine takes full effect.

On a different note...#1 is in the livingroom playing Spongebob on the PS2. I hear an "Awww Shit" leave his little lips. I then hear Mr. DK say "Excuse me? What did you just say?" "I said Aww shoot." "No you didn't. You said Aww shit. Didn't you?" "Yes. I'm lying. I said what you said." "What word did you say?" "FINE I SAID SHIT."

Guess who's grounded from the PS2 for the next 24 hours?

sdk

Absoluteley Maddening.

2005-08-30T12:47:00.000-04:00

We haven't left yet. Actually, if I truly end up going, it's not going to be until the weekend. But the dog teams haven't left yet, and let me tell you why...

There's no where to put them. When we ready for a mission such as this, it's imperative to not go down there and become part of the problem. At minimum, I can't send my teams in if we can't provide them with clean water (heck it doesn't even have to be cold...we're just going for non-toxic), they need a quiet place to rest after their day is done to regroup and debrief...debriefing is a big deal for something like this. With the destruction and the lives lost, and what the teams will see, they need to be able to debrief with the team to expel the images that they'll have in their minds and hearts into words and get them out.

Right now, none of those things exist. There's still live wires down all over the place, there's no water, there's plenty of death and destruction, of which there aren't even estimates of what they're looking at, there are entire families missing, there are parts of families missing, there are entire families dead and there are parts of families dead.

For me, this has been a really hard realization. I'm used to being able to go in, start coordinating, getting people doing something (anything that is part of the solution) and just working down the scale towards the ultimate goal. I don't know how to do that with this. It's so massive, it's so widespread, and it's so completely heartbreaking to me.

And, for just a second while I'm running through the emotions, I'm pissed too. I'm pissed to read things like conversations overheard of college students "Let's find a place to watch it. It'll be cool." I'm pissed about this because it's those people that my friends and fellow SAR people are now frantically, desperately trying to find.

So let me recap: FEMA needs our help. NOLA needs our help. But, we can't get in there. And even if we did get in there, while we'd be useful for a good 8-12 hours, then we're part of the problem, and potentially could be causing more harm than good by putting our teams in danger. The dogs tire. People tire.

We're more than likely going to still go, just not until there's a better idea of what the heck is going on down there. The statistics should start to pour in either sometime today or tomorrow, possibly even Thursday.

From my heart: God Bless the people who are trapped. God Speed to the people who have perished, and God DAMN Katrina.

sdk

May be gone for a bit...

2005-08-29T11:41:00.000-04:00

Just in case I'm not able to get back to the computer before we're deployed, I thought I'd let you all know that it looks like we're going to be deployed for search and rescue efforts for Katrina's victims. So, I'm not sure how long I'm going to be gone (or if I'm going to be at this point) or what's going on.

Please keep her victims in your prayers. We're talking about disaster of epic proportions at this point. If you're close, volunteer. If you're not, you can donate to Missing You Foundation www.helpMYf.org or to the Red Cross to assist. We're expecting reports in the thousands of missing persons by late this afternoon.

E-mail me if you can help. My email is on our website.

sdk

HNT...Better Late than Never...

2005-08-26T22:53:00.000-04:00

David...it is hereby your responsibility to send me a reminder e-mail telling me to put my pieces parts up for HNT. The said email should be received no later than 3pm on Wednesdays. ~management

Photo taken on Valentines day, 2005. This is me all knocked-up. That would be #3 protruding from my abdomen there, and I must say, he's MUCH cuter in person.

sdk

PS...sorry its so late!!!

Just for Cheryl...

2005-08-26T22:23:00.000-04:00

These are the only photos I have of me singing in a digital format. I actually went on a hunt for my old band pictures...LOL All I found were some that there's no way in hell I'm publishing and giving up for potential use on the internet...LOL

So, this is actually, me and my little brother (who sings exceptionally well) doing "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow. You'll see him rocking out...LOL He's always good for entertaining the crowd.

Same night, he did Elvira, and instead sang "Viagra" and made up a whole new set of lyrics. It was the funniest damn thing I think I've ever witnessed.

God, I Wish I Were Making This Up...

2005-08-24T22:58:00.000-04:00

While we're on the subject of my fucked up family, I've got a wild story to tell you about Grandpa and my Aunt Robin. This is one that I'm dying to tell my kids and their kids, and their kids, but they aren't old enough to hear it yet, and well...even if they were, I'm not sure I want them to look at their Papa as a son-of-a-bitch. We'll chalk it up to family lore. This is a strong contender for the Nature vs. Nurture debate. Hell, had I not seen it with my own eyes, I'm not sure I'd even believe it.

When Aunt Robin (whom we called Bobby until she had a Bobbye of her own) graduated from high school, she got the hell out of dodge. The first thing she did was buy herself a car and move to Florida.

It was her first visit home after her move that started the family tradition of having a huge fight every, single, flippin' time.

On her second day home, she asked Grandpa if she could borrow the truck. He said, "Bobby, it's loaded down with furniture, I don't want you driving it." Grandma and Grandpa own an antique mall. She said ok, and that she'd be back in a little bit. She went down the road a bit, to Old Mr. Murphy's house and asked him if she could use the truck for the night. Old Mr. Murphy said it wouldn't be a problem. "Anything for you, Bobby!"

Now, right here, we should note that Robin's intention that night was to go out with Chris, one of her oldest friends. Chris, a white girl was dating a black guy. She had already had one child by the said black guy (who might I just add is a freakin' KNOCK-OUT now). This was what Grandpa's deal was. He didn't want Robin going out with Chris, the white girl who dated black guys.

Aunt Robin pulls into the driveway with Old Mr. Murphy's truck and parks. She goes in and into the bathroom to get ready to go out that night. In the mirror, she sees the reflection of what's going on outside the window.

There's Grandpa, with Old Mr. Murphy's truck hood open. He's grabbing wires and pulling them off the motor just as fast as he could. She sat there for a second, looking quite stunned. She said to me, "Ugggh. It's amazing someone hasn't killed that man yet." It was just about then, we heard the screen door slam in the kitchen. One glance out the window told us that Grandpa wasn't "working" on the truck anymore.

Seconds later, Grandpa appears in the doorway of the bathroom. "Bobby, go move that truck. It's in my way." Aunt Robin looks him square in the eye and says "Dad, you know damn well......(pause)... Ok, Dad. I'll go move the truck."

So, Robin heads outside. From the bathroom window, I watch. She goes out, flips up Grandpa's hood on HIS truck, and starts pulling wires just as quickly as she can.

Then I hear the screen door slam again. I prayed "Dear Lord. Please let Aunt Robin run faster than Grandpa."

I go running out into the kitchen, and out the screen door to the porch. I see Aunt Robin slam down the hood of Grandpa's truck and head on a dead run for the lane to the back alphalpha field. Grandpa follows her for a few minutes, also on a dead run, and then he abruptly stops. He walks at a brisk pace over to the barn. It was then that I knew the shit was about to hit the fan.

I hear the Bull Dozer start up. It's a relatively new dozer, and it's freakin' huge. He's now going as fast as its governor will allow, across the hay field, towards Aunt Robin. Meanwhile, my dad is upstairs taking a nap. He didn't feel good, had a bad headache, and he had come over to Gram and Grandpa's to pick me up because they were watching me while he and mom were at work. He ended up laying down in my mom's old room for a while because he felt yucky. So, I went up to tell daddy that Grandpa was trying to kill Aunt Robin and that he should probably go help her.

So, dad springs out of bed, and is on a dead run for outside. There was no "Oh, honey, Grandpa's not going to kill Aunt Robin! What on Earth would make you think that?!" If the bull dozer was running, there's no doubt that Grandpa's up to no good. Especially at 8pm at night.

So, Dad goes running down the lane to try to help grandpa. Over his shoulder he screams "If Grandpa does anything dumb, call 911!" Ok, define DUMB to an 8 year old. What the hell?! So, I sat there watching.

Robin has now circled around and is heading, still sprinting towards the house. Grandpa, not missing a beat, is right behind her, swinging the bucket of the dozer back and forth and swerving all over the place.

I decide that he's for real, and went in to call 911. Then, I went back outside.

They are about, oh...30 yards from the house at this point. Aunt Robin is screaming "You crazy bastard! You're going to KILL ME!" I couldn't hear what Grandpa was yelling. It was muffled by the dozer.

Robin does the smart thing. She makes a B line for the barn. She goes in, climbs the gate and goes on into the paddock. He ain't going to go busting through the electric fence and risk letting all the horses out. So, for the time being she's safe.

In the meantime, Grandpa circles the dozer back out to the driveway. He flips around in his chair, and is now controlling the blade...the big wide plow looking thing on the dozer. At this point, law enforcement is starting to arrive. So far, I see three cars.

Grandpa gets on the other side of Old Mr. Murphy's truck. First he lowers the plow bucket. And slowly moves forward. It was at this point that my dad was able to climb up on the dozer and try to talk him down.

That didn't work. Grandpa punched my dad right in the mouth. Dad jumped off. He came around the side of the house and found a push broom that Gram used for the porch.

Grandpa scooped the bottom of Old Mr. Murphy's truck, and tipped it up on it's side. Now, every cop there has their firearms aimed right at him. But, he's in a metal cage inside there. Even if they would have shot, the chances of ricochet quite good.

Grandpa floors the dozer. He slams Old Mr. Murphy's truck right into the house. (I'm over standing behind the cop cars at this point.) Four different times he slammed that truck into the porch. He put a huge gaping hole in the side of the house.

During slams 3 and 4, my Dad was back up on the dozer, and he's now got that broom, and he's pounding the shit out of Grandpa with it. Finally, Grandpa shuts down the dozer.

About this time, Gram comes pulling into the driveway with my mom in the car. She comes flying out of the car just a bitching. I don't think she even took the time to put the thing in park.

Law enforcement quickly grabs grandpa, and handcuffs him and puts him in the car. After sitting there for a few minutes, he asks the cop if he can apologize to Robin. The cop thinks this is a good idea, so he calls Robin over there. Robin, from a distance says "Dad, what?" He says "Come closer. I want to tell you something. I need to tell you how sorry I am." So, she goes and bends down close to his face and says "Yeah? What do you have to say for trying to kill me?" And then...

He spit right in her face.

Charming, huh? Thank God he's lost most of that spunk with old age, but I shit you not, if he gets pissed and I hear the tractor, I'm OUTTA there.

sdk

For Your Viewing Pleasure...

2005-08-24T15:42:00.000-04:00

I have uploaded all the little visual snacks from yesterday's festivities to a Flickr account so that you can see them. There's a new flicker badge on the sidebar, and if you just click on it, it'll take you to my photo album.

Since I will also be sharing these with my family, if you could pretty please leave all smartassed comments (if you should feel so inclined) here on the blog, and not on the photos themselves, it would save me from being ousted from the family Christmas...LOL

I'll post a real post later!

sdk

I thought I was done for the night but...

2005-08-24T00:29:00.000-04:00

I wasn't going to turn this blog into a "look how damn cute my kids are" showcase. I mean, I KNOW how damn cute my kids are...but....We ended up getting Alex (#1) a new suit now for the wedding next weekend...and Grandma had him model it tonight to take pictures and just sent me this one. Look how freakin' grown up and just damn adorable that kid is...

F.I.N.E. (Among other things...)

2005-08-23T21:42:00.000-04:00

F: Fucked Up
I: Insecure
N: Neurotic
E: Emotional.

That sounds about right. I'm fine. I had the pleasure of hanging out with my family tonight (my mother's side of the family) and this is one of many educational things I learned tonight.

This post will be laden with several things. I've got a great joke I heard tonight planned for you, and I think I'll start with a brief history on the fam for you.

My daddy's side of the family (you know, the one who's blood DOESN'T course through my veins) is normal. Doctors, Teachers, Entrapraneurs, Accountants...the norm. They have good strong morals, they're decent people, they like to control their environment (and those IN their environment) and they are for the most part pleasant to be around.

To explain my mom's side of the family, I can't use any of the above descriptions. There's Grandpa, who's crotchety unless he's got a Miller Light in his hand, and then he's still crotchety, but he's at least funny whilst crotchety. Grandma is a prude. She didn't use to be. I remember one time when Grandpa pissed her off and she came flying out of the old farm house with a fifth of Jim Beam in one hand and she swiped the garden hoe as she was coming out the door with the other. That was an entertaining 20 minutes while we waited for law enforcement to come rescue Grandpa.

Uncle Jimmy, Mom's youngest brother is brilliant. You heard me, IQ in the upper 170's. Uncle Jimmy ran over a police officer, not once, but six times during a routine traffic stop when the cop caught him coming out of a known crack bar. As per usual, when Uncle Jimmy falls into a bucket of shit, he comes out smelling like a rose every damn time. He only got 2 years worth of prison time for that little stunt (the officer is ok, though he doesn't really work the beat anymore, he got an office job after that.). Jimmy got to be on the evening news. As a matter of fact, Mom and I were sitting on the couch when he debuted. He's literally running hells bells from the police helicopter (and several officers on foot) under the spotlight. It only took the State Police Narcotics dogs about two hours to finally tree him. Lemme just say, he's the apple of my Grandpa's eye. He's got all brains in the world, yet lacks the know how to apply it to his own life. I just want to literally place my fingers around his neck when he climbs up on his soapbox and aims his high moral standards speech at me. I know what he's done, and I know what he's capable of too. I'm the only person in our whole entire family who has stood toe to toe with him and didn't back down from him. I'm also the only one of us he's never hit. (If he does, he better do it good and then run like hell...)

Uncle Kenny, the kid between my mom and Aunt Robin died in 1983 at the age of 23. Lance Corporal Uncle Kenny. He was a good guy, with a good heart, and ended up hitting a tree drunk after a party one night. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 7 years old.

Aunt Robin...my mom's sister. She's a bit eccentric, but I love her to pieces. It's a little eerie looking at your moving, talking, walking, joking dead mother who has accumulated a Texas Accent over the years, and have it be another person. Aunt Robin lives in Texas, and we only see her once a year, if we're lucky. She's married to John, and has a daughter named Bobbye Leigh and a son named Eric. Bobbye is as fucked up as they come, and Eric graduated from Purdue U 1st in his class as an engineer something or other and has been headhunted from corporations and businesses all over the world. He settled in Ohio with his gorgeous girlfriend Casey.

Now that our history is complete and you know the characters, I just have to say that normally, we avoid these meetings when Aunt Robin is home like the plague. Everyone drinks like there's no tomorrow, Grandpa and someone usually gets in a fight, which results in Grandpa climbing on the tractor and trying to run people over, there's all sorts of vocabulary snacks for the kids to pick up (truly...my family has got to be one of the originators of the word fuck. They use it like they own it.) Normally, we prefer to hang out with Aunt Robin on our own and call it good. I like my family. I do...it's just I like them separately, if that makes sense. I can handle Uncle Jimmy. Because when it's just Uncle Jimmy and me, or him and my immediate family, then he's not trying to show the world that he promised my mother's body, while lying in her casket (in prison issue blues with two guards standing behind them with AKA assault rifles strapped to their sides) that he'd take care of me and Cj. When it's just us, he acts like a normal person, and doesn't bother with the bullshit speeches that are meant for everyone else to hear for his benefit, and not mine.

Likewise, I love my Grandparents. But, they're a whole lot less crotchety when it's just them and us and they don't have to compete to hear themselves talk.

The Joke: (As told by Aunt Robin)

A new police officer, new to the department is out looking for his first traffic stop. Sure enough, he sees a female in a Lincoln go flying by doing 80 in a 55. He thinks "Hmmm...I got me a good one."

At the same time, the female in the Lincoln sees him. She thinks to herself "Boy, I've got him pegged." And pulls over to the shoulder.

He approaches the car and says "Maam', may I see your license?"

Lincoln Chick: Um, I'm sorry officer, I don't have a license. They took it away from me after my fourth DUI (Driving Under the Influence).

Officer: Ok. Well, do you have any insurance on this car?

Lincoln Chick: No sir. They cancelled my insurance after my first DUI.

Officer: Well, surely you have the car registered? May I see your registration?

Lincoln Chick: Sir, this car is stolen. I killed the owner, chopped him up in little pieces, and he's in the trunk.

Officer: Lady...you stay RIGHT there. DON'T MOVE.

The green officer backs away from the car and radio's for backup. The closest cop within range is the Chief of Police. He arrives on scene, and stands back, talking to the officer for a few minutes. The Chief of Police approaches the car slowly.

Chief: Maam', do you have ANY identification on you?

Lincoln Chick: Of course. Will my drivers license be sufficient?

Chief (looking a little puzzled): Yes, thank you. Do you have insurance on this car?

Lincoln Chick: It's a 2005 Lincoln. What do you think? Of course I have insurance. (as she hands him the proof.)

Chief (starting to look really confused): Is this car registered to you maam'?

Lincoln Chick: Uh...in order to insure it, it must be registered. You'll see there the insurance is in my name, and here's my registration. Is something wrong officer?!

Chief: Well, Maam', the funny thing is that my officer back there says that you didn't have ID, you didn't have registration, you didn't have insurance, that you stole this car and the owner is dead in the trunk. Do you mind if I have a look in your trunk?

She gets out, shows him the inside of the trunk, and says "God. I bet he'll tell you I was speeding too..."

sdk

Video

2005-08-23T13:19:00.000-04:00

There's a video at the bottom of the page....hence the reason you're hearing some mournful crooning. I do love this song (a lot, actually...) but the reason I posted it more than anything is so that you can see his mullet. I mean, that's blatant mullet abuse.

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Freakin' FINALLY.

2005-08-23T12:09:00.000-04:00

My husband and my little brother have both decided to do the unthinkable. Both are going back to college this fall. And, might I just add...thank God for that.

Mr. DK went to college on a basketball scholarship for a few years. He didn't finish, and he majored in Basketball. Interestingly enough, there aren't a whole lot of careers that actually look at Basketball as a real major, unless you're talking about the six figure kind, and since I married a big, tall white guy and not LeBron James, the six figure career is a tad out of reach. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's 6'7" and more than able on the court. But, unless you're some sort of backboard breaking God, your chances of actually making a six figure income in a sport career are pretty much nill. And, since he'll probably see his name and decide to read this, I will mention that he did indeed break a backboard, once, during a dunk in high school. There. Now you know, and I won't get bitched at for withholding evidence.

Cj, my little brother on the other hand is pretty far behind. He's 24, and spent 3 of the last 4 Christmas's in a cell, celebrating Christ's birthday with guys with names like G-Money and Blade. We always get fun calls (at like $4.90 for the first minute and 1.99 for each minute there-after) from the county correctional institution, and the collect name that the caller records for us to hear is always "Momhadababyeetsinjail!" That's jackass for "Cj". He's always telling us what great plans he has for when he gets out, and how his law breaking days are over, and how drugs are a thing of the past and how life would be so much simpler if I'd just kick him in the ass once in a while.

This time, he's actually carried through with it. Yesterday, my little boy (brother, LOL) registered for his first semester of college. You know, the most fucked up thing about the whole scenario is the kid always had a 4.0 gpa. He didn't have to study for extended periods, or cram for tests or slave over papers. It all came very easily to him. His senior year, two months before the last semester was over, the moron dropped out of high school. He actually obtained his GED while he was in the clink. I mean, I'm glad he did, but for the love of Christ, two months before graduation, he dropped out. His brain cells were smoked into oblivion, I think.

Cj had a lot of problems. I'm sure you've seen me allude to it here and there throughout my posts, but my mom was murdered in 1997. That would have made Cj 15. Cj is under the delusion that he could have done something to prevent it, or that he should have been there to protect her. During that time, I actually had custody of him, and he was living up in Traverse City with me. That's about 300 miles from where my mom lived. I had custody because she was making bad decisions, she was drinking unfathomable amounts of alcohol and she married the asshat who killed her. Anyways, long story short, Cj has been fucked up every since.

So, I'm happy. So happy, I'm giving him one of my laptops and a printer for school. And, Mr. DK already has most of his credits. He's entering an Electrical Engineer program, and will have a degree sometime within the next two semesters. That's just good stuff.

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Pet Malevolence

2005-08-22T00:57:00.000-04:00

It's official. My animals think I'm Satan.

I've about had it with the damn bugs and rodents. So, imagine my glee when I'm sitting here in this very chair, petting my kitty (Oh quit...) and a flea jumps on me. I said "Jas, get the keys, we're going out." So, off to Meijer's we went (local Wal-Martish type store with higher prices). I bought some Flea and Tick spray for the cats, shampoo for both the cats and dogs and home we came.

So, Hagrid (affectionately called Kitten-Shit) went first. He's the most submissive and is by now used to getting all slathered up with soapy goodness. He just lays down and takes it for the most part now. Course, usually he gets Aveda. Today, he got Flea treatment. It doesn't smell anywhere close to as good, but the stuff works. He was my guinea pig of sorts, to see if it was even worth putting on the other animals. It was awesome! They just laid down and died. Just like that. Normally, when you use Salon-bought Aveda, it just lulls them into a scentual fantasy land, and they sleep, all the while LOOKING dead. They come back to life as soon as he dries off and they can actually maneuver through his fur.

Lily happened to be sleeping in the bathroom window during the festivities. Actually, if you want the truth, I think she was pretending to be sleeping, and was really just snorting her approval of the torturing of the kitten. They don't really get along. Hagrid likes Lily just fine. Lily thinks Hagrid is a pimple on the ass of her life. So, she was next. I actually had Lily declawed, all four claws when she was about eight months old. The reason was because she'd freakin' attack me when I was sleeping, and rabbit kick the hell out of my arms. The end result was me looking like I was disgruntled with life and trying to end it all. I was getting calls from psychologists, well meaning friends were saying things like "Honey...if there's anything I can do to take some of the stress off..." and stuff like that. Suicide's for pussies, and if pussies are for makin' it look like suicide, out come their claws in my world.

Anyways...where was I? Oh. Yeah. So, into the bath she goes, and the first thing she does is twists onto her back and rabbit kicks the hell out of my arm. When that didn't cause immediate release, she decided she would reach around and bite me as hard as she could. That worked. So, now it's hot pursuit of a dripping, very long haired animal. It's AMAZING how much water is retained in the fur of a long hair cat. And she's just pissing and moaning at me all through the chase. Finally, I catch her, and back to the bath she goes. I ended up getting all the soap off her, and then wrangling her out of the shower with a towel. I was feeling a little bit like that Crocodile Hunter Bastard by the time we were done.

Next, Murphy blindly follows my command to come upstairs. Interesting how she'll follow voice commands inside, but the moment she steps foot outside she's deaf, dumb and blind to the fact she even HAS a master. So, I lug her 90 pound ass into the claw-foot tub (a feat in and of itself), and start slathering away. Instead of using the cup to rinse, like I did with the cats, I got out the bucket. She loves playing in water. So, I'm trying to slather her up, she wants to jump and splash and play. Oh, great fun! Her bath went great until I accidentally got it in her eyes. Then she howled and cried and whined, and all of a sudden, I'm not her favorite human, and she wouldn't get back to me on when I'd be allowed to resume that position. When she was done, I draped a towel over her back (it happened to have a big hole in it, which was perfect for putting her tail through) and then she had to go have some fun. First she rolled all over the new carpet, then rubbed against every piece of furniture we've got, and then shook off on daddy (daddy LOVES it when she does that).

After all was said and done, I went back upstairs to take a shower of my own. Murphy comes up to observe, sits there for a sec and as I get in under the water looks right in my eyes and barks. I swear to God, I think she was thinking "See, you take showers, I take showers. You eat out of bowls, I eat out of bowls. You wear necklaces, I have a necklace. I'M HUMAN. Quit treating me like a freakin' dog!"

After I got out of the shower, I put baby lotion on my legs. I always do. This time, I also put some on her belly. Not only does she smell phenomenal, but I'm hoping it will diminish that whole itching and licking in that area constantly deal.

Lets hope. They'll forgive me...LOL

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The Struggle.

2005-08-21T02:40:00.000-04:00

Well, #1 left today to go with his Grandma. She's keeping him for the last week, then they're leaving for Traverse City (way up north) on Friday for the wedding on Saturday. I'm ok with it, I think.

For those who wrote telling me that I have my head screwed on straight when it comes to his dad and how I'm handling their relationship, I'll tell you why I have this perspective.

Nigh on 29 years ago... (heh heh...just kidding. Who starts a paragraph like that?!)

I'm adopted. I mean, my mother was my mother, but my dad adopted me. They met when I was like 6 months or so, and married when I was 2. My entire life, I knew I was adopted. There were no secrets, no big shocker there, just the blatant truth. The one thing my mom did do was to try to warn me about my biological father. He stuck around until I was six weeks old, and then, I never saw him again until the day I graduated high school. She tried to warn me. She told me stories about him, she tried to cushion that fall that she knew was inevitable.

Instead of helping me understand who and what he was, it caused me to fantasize about him. Like, for instance when my parents would inadvertantly piss me off (as all parents inevitably do), I would dream of the day when my REAL daddy would come whisk me away to a world filled with DisneyLand and Ice Cream, where parents didn't yell, mommies and daddies didn't drink all the time, and mothers didn't hit or beat their children. That day never came.

The day I graduated high school, he showed up. In tote with him were my younger brother, Joe, my younger sister, Amanda (you all know Amanda...she's dating Hilary) and another little girl, introduced to me as my sister Jennifer. He said that he was sorry my mother kept him from me so long, but that day, he deserved to be my dad more than the guy who's been acting like my dad all these years. It wasn't until that very moment that I understood what my mom had been trying to tell me all of those years.

My dad, the man I know as my daddy, CHOSE to be my father. He didn't have to be. He didn't have to treat me like his own child. He didn't have to deal with my crap for all those years. He didn't have to teach me to golf, to change oil in a car, or any lessons in life. But he did. Because he loved me, and he made the choice to be there. My dad never said a bad word about my biological father. He left it up to me to make those decisions on my own. When I had questions, he always said "Someday Princess, you'll have a choice whether you want to meet him and then you'll have all of those questions answered." He didn't think for me, or do anything to influence my opinion of my biological father.

Since Graduation, I've gotten to know him quite well. I've also gotten to know my siblings. The other sister, Jennifer is the same age as Amanda. Twins? Not exactly. Jen was born in February, and Amanda in July. How is this possible, you ask? He knocked up the BABYSITTER. He hasn't held a job since I've known him for longer than 4 months, he did get in trouble for buying drugs from his own son (said brother, Joe), and everytime he sees me on TV with my work, I get oodles and oodles of messages in my voice mail about how proud he is of me and how he called all his friends to tell them that I'm HIS daughter. Every freakin' time.

I don't have an ounce of respect for him. I can't stand talking to him, he's selfish, he hasn't so much as visited my kids, his first "grandkids" in going on two years, which means he hasn't even met #3, he's childish, and he's arrogant. He's even called to ask me to borrow money. When I talk to him, I do it more out of respect for the biological process of life than anything else. He says "I love you" every time we hang up, and I always respond with "Me too."

My parents didn't have to tell me anything about him. Now I know, and I've formed my own opinion. He's a schmuck. My biological father who did indeed give me life and for that has earned the name "Bio-Dad". I call him this to his face. Everyone got a kick out of it. They thought it was just the wittiest, cutest little thing. For me, everytime I get to allow those words to leave my lips aimed at him, it's my faithful little way of telling him, "I already have a real dad, and it isn't you, you self centered son-of-a-bitch."

So, this is why I feel the way I do for my own son. I've been down this road. This is one that I have some experience with, that I understand, and that I've lived in real-time. Ex is just a newer version of Bio-Dad. #1 HAS a real daddy. He may not understand it now, through all the smiles and fun times he'll have out on the boat with his Bio-dad, or dancing at the reception with his Bio-Dad, or going out on the Quads with his Bio-Dad next weekend. But, when he's old enough to form his opinions, he'll remember that his REAL dad cleaned up those scraped knees, and taught him to ride his bike without training wheels, and taught him about life.

It will be self evident.

sdk

Interbreed of Thoughts and Stuff

2005-08-19T21:25:00.000-04:00

Interbreed. God I love the thesaurus. What a great new word. You put in mix and you end up with interbreed. That's just good stuff.

On with the day.

We decided to forgo purchasing a new tv. Jas starts a new job (a good PAYING job) in like two weeks, (WHOOOOOHOOO) so we're going to wait until we can afford it. Then, if the Gods should choose to smile upon us, we'll not be getting a 27 inch 300 lb television, we'll be getting a 40 inch 30 lb television. SMILE. Please?!

(Hagrid modeling the carpet...isn't he a sexy bitch?) Instead, I got my way and we are working on the house for the next two weeks. We now have carpet in our livingroom. It is actually hard wood, which in and of itself isn't a bad thing. It's when it crosses someone's mind that it would be a good idea to paint it shit brown that it becomes disturbing. Aside from the fact that Logan (#3) is going to be crawling soon, it was just good common sense to get something down there. So, we did some looking and I actually convinced my landlord to buy me a remnant. It's 12 x 6.3, which of course doesn't cover the entire livingroom floor, but it serves its purpose. It fits just under the edge of each piece of furniture and it's actually nice. It was a fairly expensive carpet at one point. But, after it got all hacked to holy hell...we end up with just enough to take care of my livingroom.

Mr. DK went to the laundry-mat today. (heh heh) Made him take Wierd-Al (#1) with him. I figure if I'm here cleaning, he can take at least one of the kids. So, anywho, I now have clean towels. This is a good thing. I'm a little anal retentive about the towel situation. I need a clean towel to take a shower. And, I'll even reuse my towel, if said towel hasn't been swabbed all over someone else's body. If it has, I'd rather air dry. Whole cupboard full of clean towels now.

I have curtains up in my livingroom...Erika, you'll be happy to hear that they are not black. I like them, I think...but I don't know. I'm not usually the froo-froo type. But, there was a sale...and you know how we chicks do with sales...

Tomorrow, we organize #1's dresser to get him ready for school. I absolutely HATE going through that kids clothes. He has more clothes than all the rest of us put together. It's good that he does, but #2 always gets shafted because he always ends up with #1's cast-offs. I must go through everything to determine what I actually need to buy for school this year. While I would LOVE to go take him for a whole new school wardrobe, I can't. With gas being nearly 3 bucks a gallon, Mr. DK laid off, our tv being a mouse condo and the utility people actually expecting us to pay them...it's just not a possibility this year. But, he does have a lot of nice clothes. What we'll probably end up doing is get him new shoes, some new shirts and of course socks and underwear, and then for Christmas, he will get new jeans and a new suit for this year. (and an assload of toys...I'm not the freakin' Grinch...).

My ex's mom called last night. Ex is getting married next weekend. (For whatever reason, I thought it was this weekend...but it's next weekend. Had I not used the invitation to start my grill last week, I would be able to look at it and know...but it seemed like a good idea at the time...) Anyway, she wanted to know if she could come get #1 and take him to the wedding. There are a couple of issues here. First, EX hasn't seen him in 3 years. Second, he thinks Mr. DK is his dad. I mean, I haven't lied to him. He knows he has 2 daddies. But, he really only knows Mr. DK as his daddy, since he can't really remember EX.

So, anyways I told her that he could go. He needs a break from us anyway. She said "What should I tell him about his dad?" I said "Tell him the truth. We do. I just don't want you to minimalize the impact Jas has had on him in any way, because Jas IS his daddy. Ex hasn't seen him in 3 years, and the only persons at fault for that is Ex." She said "Ok...well, what if he has questions?" I said "Look, what's important here is that we don't think for him on this issue. He'll form his own opinions about his father in his own time, and it's up to Ex what that opinion is." She agreed.

After I got off the phone with her, I called EX and told him that he better not make him any promises that he can't keep. #1 is my sensitive kid. He takes everything quite literally, and he dwells on everything. If EX were to say "Well Bud, you can come up here and stay a weekend with me soon, ok?" #1 will be counting the minutes until that happens. If EX doesn't plan to actually follow through with it, #1 would be heartbroken. So, I told him not to even think about saying anything like that to him unless he 100% means it.

I'm not trying to keep him away from his dad. And, I won't tell him he can't go. It practically rips my heart out when he does this poppin' in and out of his life thing though because I have the aftermath to deal with. Ex's mom is very cool. I love her, she spends time with #1, she has fun with #1 and she's very good to him. But, usually Ex isn't involved in any of those activities. He's far to self centered and egotistical to care.

What kills me even more is the chick he's marrying has 4 kids of her own. So, he's been raising them for the last 2 years, and hasn't so much as visited his own son in 3. But hey...she's getting a winner in him! He asked me if I was coming last night to the wedding because he'd like to have one last quickie with me before he signed his life away.

GREAT guy.

sdk

Bye-Bye Mela...(wimper, sniffle, tear)

2005-08-18T19:03:00.000-04:00

Mela went to the shelter. And, I cried like the little bitch that I am. I didn't want to leave her there, but she apparently needed like 400 bucks worth of vet care, and since I'm broke and am seriously thinking about blowing up this house anyway...I knew I couldn't keep her.

My TV is a goner. We went TV shopping today and the best deal we've found so far (that's affordable right now for us without actually financing something) is a 27 inch flat screen Sharp for 200 bucks. We're sitting on it right now trying to decide if we want to go back and get it or not.

The 36 inch that's been upstairs in our room we brought down. It spontaneously shuts itself off, that is if you can watch it long enough for it to do that without getting sea-sick from the bouncing. The picture tube in that is going out, and that's 150 to fix. So...here's our predicament. Either A: be without a tv for up to 2 weeks while the 36 is being fixed or B: buy a new tv and pay 50 bucks more and still have the old tv that we'll still have to fix.

Oh what to do, Oh what to do.

Update later.

sdk

HNT

2005-08-18T00:04:00.000-04:00

My second submission for HNT: This is my husband, Mr. DK's leg, with my personal tattoo. The fine print reads: Must submit to random sexual acts upon demand.

Sirens and Floodlights

2005-08-17T23:44:00.000-04:00

4:45 am this morning, I hear "Shan! Wake up!!!" I'm all... "Wha.....?" He says "LOOK!"

I look around and all I see is bright, glaring flood lights. However, the window that's to the north in my room is still pitch black. I'm thinkin' "What the hell?!"

So, I put some jeans on and head downstairs. The only thought on my mind is Juanita that lives in the house next door to the south of us. I'm thinking that there has been a fire, and Juanita is in trouble.

I get out there, and there are 5 full size fire trucks, two smaller fire trucks, 2 Fire Dept. SUV's, and 4 cop cars. Flood lights are set up, the whole damn block is looking like daylight.

Yet, I don't see a fire, or even smoke for that matter.

So, there's a firefighter standing right in front of my driveway...I said "Hey...what's going on?" He looks at me, up and then down. Takes a second and says "There's a fire." I said "Where?" He points to the house across the street.

Now, I am quite aware that I am not exactly Martha Perfect at 4:45am. But, for crying out loud, it's not like I have a second human growing from my temple. There's no need to be short.

So, he goes on with his unrolling of the hoses, and the unpacking of all the gear.

Juanita comes out to talk with Jas and I, asking what's going on. So, I stand there and talk with her for a while. We're all a little perplexed because while we see firemen crawling all over this house, we've yet to see even a little bit of smoke, fire or even a spark.

Then, this guy who I swear to God resembles a blonde carrot top comes skipping across the road. The following is an exerp from that conversation:

Dude: I thought I'd come hang out with you guys, maaaan. They're givin' me some funny looks over there man, like it's all my fault.

Me: Is that your house?

Dude: Yeah dude! I was like hungry, so I put a pizza in the oven at like one dude. Then the next thing I knew there were all these like firefighters standing over me going "You gotta get up man, your fuckin' house is on fire dude!"

Me: (trying everything in my power to not laugh, laugh laugh) Huh. So, you left your pizza in the oven and fell asleep?

Dude: Uh-Huh...I was like SO hungry too, dude.

(during this sentence, you see a black disk come flying out of the window of the upstairs apartment and make a thud on the ground)

Me: (losing my composure) Heh...that your pizza?

Dude: Fuck man...I have a bench warrant out for my arrest too, man. I was like "Dude...you can't take me to jail. My boss will kick my ass!" So, I don't even know if I'm going to have to go to jail tonight...

Me: Well...with those four cop cars, I'm betting they're not going to let it slide after your costing the tax payers about 15 grand tonight in resources...

Dude: Aw shit man, I know that guy...I gotta go. (and off he runs to see the fire chief who's standing in front of his house with his hands on his hips.)

I'm SO sorry for not getting pictures of this. Had I been thinking...MAN i should have gotten pictures. This was an a-1 blogging opportunity, and I BLEW it!

sdk

Blah. Really...just blah.

2005-08-16T00:39:00.000-04:00

Nothing good to report today, really. So, it's a hodgepodge of events tossed together for your reading enjoyment.

Mela is a pooping-peeing-eating machine. For such a small animal, she is just forever going. I can take her out, and 15 minutes later, she's peeing on the floor. She'll poop in one corner, then go poop in a new one 5 minutes later. This is irritating. REALLY irritating.

I called the humane society and put her on the found list, I called the paper, put an ad in, and I've distributed flyers to most of the stores in the immediate area surrounding where the little boy said he found her. He actually found two of them, but had found a place for the other to go. The more I look at her and the more I get to know her, I swear she's someone's pet. I looked her markings up and have come to the conclusion that she's probably a Miniature Pinscher. Those puppies are going for between 400-700 bucks from breeders right now. Plus her ears are spotless, she minds pretty well, and while she may not be totally house broken, it could be that my house isn't her home and that's why she's pooping in it. I think she belongs to someone.

Either way, the shelter we have here is a no kill facility. So, she's on the list there, and if they have an opening and her owners don't come forward, she'll be adopted out to a good family. They are really strict on who gets animals from there. They do home visits and everything before you can take a pet home. I think that's awesome. She just has to stay here until an opening becomes available. She goes in for her entry test tomorrow. If she can manage to get through that without tearing off any of the administrators limbs, she passes. (Her mouth couldn't fit my pinky...this shouldn't be an issue.)

The mice in this house are starting to piss me off. This WAS my TV. (That's NCAA Football 2005, yes. Is it MY game? No. I'd like to watch it melt and make pretty colored flames as it burns.) Anyways, I say it WAS my tv because a mouse got inside of it and fubared the inside wiring all up. There are these little canister thingies in the bottom of it. Screwed those up. There is a chassis of some sort in there...screwed that all to hell to. I'm PISSED because this TV is only a year old. This is a wide screen 50 inch, HDTV Integrated TV. Now, it's a big piece of shit that won't even turn on.

Would it be unreasonable for me to ask that he exterminate before I pay my rent? Furthermore, should I subtract the cost of this $2000 TV FROM the rent? Maybe subtract the couch from it too? I have patience. A lot of patience, even. But, if he doesn't do something about these fucking mice, I'm going to live trap them and take them to HIS house and let them go. We used to put live traps in the barn, and that is a cool little contraption. They get in, but they can't get out. I used to go and give them little syringes of water and wipe peanut butter on the ceiling of it. LOL I didn't want them to starve while they were in there. Then dad used to put them in a big burlap sac and take them out to the pond and drown them. Thank GOD he didn't tell me that until I was an adult. He'd have been kicking my ass left and right for freeing the prisoners.

Anyways, I took the TV to a repair shop to see if they can fix it. Their total estimate's not done yet, but it's looking like it'd be cheaper to just go buy a new tv. I have a 36 inch TV that I have in my room, but that's screwed too. That's not the mice's fault...that's just a picture tube going out. I get motion sickness from watching it. We brought that downstairs tonight so we could watch "The Closer" on TNT. (Great show btw.) It kept turning itself off. Jas finally had a hissy and went to bed.

Amanda called me today, but I thankfully wasn't here. I also coincidentally forgot to call her back too, so there's no reports today on her gayscale. I'm willing to bet though, from the tone of her voice on my machine that things aren't going so well. We'll see. I'll call her tomorrow.

Talked with my Gynecologist today. They sent me a certified letter. LOL They said that they couldn't get ahold of me since the move, I wasn't returning their calls, and that my health is in grave danger. LOL Hmmm...we scheduled the damn hysterectomy for December...I have Cancer...it's not like it's gonna up and walk off or anything. I know it's there. The first line in the letter states: "Dear Mrs. DK. We hope that this letter finds you well." LOL So...I called them. I have another damn colposcopy scheduled for August 31. 10:45am. Woohoo. They go in and biopsy pieces of the cervix. This is NOT my idea of a good time. For a very short time, he's rooting around up there, you feel this horrible pinchy pain, then for the next several hours you cramp like crazy. The funniest part about all of this is that if you call my old number there's this very polite message "The number you have diald ###-###-#### has changed. The new number is ###-###-####." Had they tried to call me, they'd have had my number. Since there are no calls from them on my caller ID, there's no messages from them on my machine and I've not received any other mail from them excepting the certified one...they're full of it.

On the upside, my uterus is going to be famous. When they do the hysterectomy, they'll be studying my uterus and writing about it in medical journals. Long story short, I have a bi-cornuate uterus. When I get knocked up, I can only carry a baby for so long because there's a wall down the center of it, making it so only half the uterus is used. This makes for less elasticity for the growth of the baby. Sam actually kicked all the way through it when he was born. He was born 3 months early. The technical term is Ruptured Uterine Syndrome. Part of him was actually floating around in my abdominal cavity, not protected for about 2 and a half minutes. That nearly killed us. Then, Logan, baby #3 in March did the same thing, except he didn't make it to my abdominal cavity. I could just feel that coming. I knew. So, I was already in the hospital when he decided to bust out.

Well...enough for tonight, I guess.

sdk

My Landlord's Gonna Have a Moo-Cow.

2005-08-14T23:37:00.000-04:00

Do I look like I might have the words "Pet Sanctuary" or "Pound" written anywhere on my forehead? Do I? Sometimes having a heart really sucks. Because, I find myself not wanting to say no. Especially to sobbing 9 year olds.

Here's the story. So, the neighbor kid comes over and knocks on my door tonight. We're in the middle of dinner. So, I go answer the door with a mouthful of food. I'm polite like that. I open the door to a sobbing 9 year old little boy who is talking so fast that he can't catch his breath.

"Hehastafindaplacetoliveormyunclesgonnabreakhisneck!" That translates out to 'He has to find a place to live or my uncle is going to break his neck.' I said "Wait, slow down. What's going on?" and thats when I saw her. Here's this itsy bitsy little dog wagging her tail at his feet. The boy explains that his uncle said that if he didn't find a place for the dog to stay that the said uncle would break the puppy's neck.

I said, "Honey, surely he's not going to break her neck. No one's that mean."

At this point, said uncle comes over to my house, drunk. At the same time, my three year old comes out of the house butt naked. We're potty training him, and clothes seem to severely hinder the process. He won't pee on the floor, but he has no problem doing it in shorts. So, naked he is. Drunk uncle says "You need to make that boy go in and get some clothes on. You'll get a ticket for leud behavior and one for indecent exposure." I said "Uh, bud, he's THREE. We're not going to get any tickets. Especially from the cops around here. I know these guys. So, the boy here says you're going to break this dogs neck if it doesn't have a place to stay."

Drunk uncle says "Yeah, that's right. Mightez well. It'll get hit by a car if I don't." THEN he says "GODDAMNIT. I told you to tell that boy to get in the house and put some fuckin' clothes on!"

I said "You need to get the hell out of my yard. Are you freakin' crazy?! You don't talk in front of children like that! You're lucky my 6'7" husband's not out here or you'd be lying on your drunk butt!"

I told the little boy that we'd take her and find her a home. He stopped crying and said thankyou. I asked him if he was going to be ok going home with that guy. He told me that he's always drunk like that and that he'll just go to sleep. Fine...

So, she's here. I've tentatively named her Mela. I'm pushing for keeping her of course, and Jas is wholeheartedly against it. She's really good. Earlier, outside, (not on a leash) she was in hot pursuit of a cat, and I yelled "Puppy! No! Come here!" and she stopped in her tracks and came back. That, in my world, has the markings of a good dog. Murphy would have had the cat in her mouth and kept running, oblivious to my shrieking screams.

What is she? I think she looks a whole lot like a chihuaua, but if you look at her just right, she sorta looks like she might have some hound in her - like beagle or something. What do you guys think?

If there's anyone here in MI who's in the market for a new pooch that's cuddly, likes kids, likes cats and comes when called, let me know. I'll give her up to a good home, but otherwise, she's staying right here...

That's gonna be a fun fight with the landlord.

I'm a Two Time Loser.

2005-08-14T02:38:00.000-04:00

My mother died in 1997. Before she did, she gave me the 60th Anniversary edition of Monopoly for Christmas. Since then, I have never played Monopoly on any other board. It's a little schmoopy, yes, but it's one of my quirks. My brother gave me the Disney Monopoly Board, complete with little peuter Disney characters for Christmas a few years back. I told him thank you, then went home, confiscated all the money and pieces from it, gave the board to the kids and put the pieces with the game my mom gave me. (Cj still bitches about this. "Fine. That's fine. You tear my gift apart and add it to mom's board. See if I ever get you a present again.")

So, today, it's rainy and yucky, and I needed a break from working on the site, and Jas asked me to play. I said sure. I'll play. I'm undefeated. I've NEVER EVER lost on that board. I've got something like a 59 game winning streak. I like it that way. I'm a good sportsman, but if you even almost kick my ass at Monopoly on that board, it gets very tense.

So, at 11:00 this morning, I go to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. I come back and he's got my guy on the board. My guy is Mr. Monopoly himself. Something or other Pennybags, I think his name is. He's MY guy. As in, you toucha-I-breaka-you-face. I said, "Uh, what do you think you're doing. You know he's mine. That's my guy. My game, my guy." He says, "Lets see how you do without him. Humor me. It's a crutch, baby. Don't lean on your crutch."

So, I say, fine. I'll use Dumbo. This, friends, is my idea of antagonism. Jas had big ears when he was a kid. All the little kindergardners called him Dumbo. He's since grown into them, but he still has nightmares, and worries for the sake of our children. Since this was obviously war, I pick Dumbo, the BIG, FLOPPY EARED Elephant. Heh heh.

In game one, I ended up owning all the light blue properties, two railroads (which we fought over quite a bit), the pink properties, the orange properties, the yellow properties and the green properties. So, how the hell did I lose? I landed on Boardwalk. 4 times in a freakin' row. DAMN Dumbo. He's now a retired piece.

I was getting REALLY pissed. Not so much that Jas was winning, but that I was losing, even though I owned 80% of the freakin' board. By all means, I should have won. Yet, I didn't.

I said, "We're playing again." Jas says "Yeah, I don't really want to. It's almost 7:00." I said, "Oh, I'm sorry, were you under the impression you had a choice on the matter?" He said "Frozen pizza for dinner?" I said, "Uh huh. Switch me over to Mountain Dew while you're out there, will ya? I'll set up."

He came back, and found that I had taken Mr. PennyBags back. He says "Oh, I see how it is. You can't stand for someone else to have the winning piece." I said "No, it's not that. Its just that I think my mom wanted me to have that piece. She said it was my game, and that I should pick my special piece. Its special because my dead mother gave it to me. You're not mean enough to take the piece away from me after I already lost my mother, are you?" (This is me being REALLY evil.) Then I said "Hey...my dog got run over by a car when I was seven, why don't you go dig him up and play fetch with his bones. God you're so mean. I hope my mom's watching you right..." He says "FINE. Take the damn piece. If she is looking in, she's gonna kick your ass for using her name to get a damn monopoly piece. But fine. I concede. TAKE IT. I'll use Mogli."

I grin.

So, on to game two. Game two went on for FREAKIN' EVER. It's 2:25am right now. He went to bed about 30 minutes ago. I kept going to jail, and didn't make it all the way around the board past "GO" for like 9 rounds in a row. So, I couldn't buy property. You have to go all the way around the board before you can purchase any property. So, he's buying everything up, and by the time I finally got my butt out of the clink, all that was left was the green properties and the red properties. Everything else he had. Even so, for four straight hours, I kicked his ass. Then, because we were so even, and we were getting so tired of playing, I said "Let's make it interesting. Let's pay double for every bill and rental fee." We agreed since it was obvious that nothing else was going to cause one of us to win it. And what happened? I landed on Boardwalk twice in a row. That's 4 grand every time you land on it at double the price. So, 8 grand later, I'm outta the game.

Now what? I can't very well retire Mr. Pennybags. But, on the otherhand, he's been jinxed and bastardized by being played by another person.

Meteors and More

2005-08-12T01:25:00.000-04:00

Since the last oh...four or so have been mindless chitchat of me getting pissed over something I know nothing about, I'll write you a real post.

At the risk of sounding like my Grandma, how nice it is to see everyone popping by! I'm starting to feel all warm and cozy inside getting to know everyone! Help yourself, beer's in the fridge. Erika, you should find some sparkling grape juice in there too. Watch that cork...no holes in my ceiling.

Things have been pretty drab around here. Boring even. The website isn't done, but gee, I sure am getting pissed it's not. Everytime I think I'm close, someone calls with a "Hey...do you think it'd be a good idea if we (they must have a mouse in their pocket) add this too?"

On the upside, J. Hardin, famed tracking expert, border patrol officer of twenty-some-odd years and he who produced primary evidence in both the Green River serial murders and the Ted Bundy case agreed to be on our advisory board today. I'm pretty psyched about that. We fight and struggle for credibility every single day, first because most of us are women, second because none of us are working cops and third because we're volunteers with hearts. (I say working because some have been cops and since retired.) We have a lot of volunteers that are cops, but we who actually run the org aren't. Heck...when would we have TIME to be cops?! Anywho, when someone like Joel Hardin says that he believes in us enough to attach his hard earned reputation to what we're trying to accomplish, it makes me feel like we are making a difference, and to me, that's really cool.

(just so you know...I put Mr. Hardin's name in like that so the search engines wouldn't pick it up. All I need is a bunch of trackers and volunteers in here learning that my mouth can be as bad as any truckers they've ever met....and if y'all do make it here...please try and remember this is my personal site, not my professional site, and therefore I shouldn't be crucified for dropping the F-Bomb here and there...)

In other news, my six year old said to me today "Mommy...you're moody. You're like the psychotic penguins on Madagascar." That always cheers you right up. Thank you bud. Mommy loves you even though you're a mean, mean boy. Is it August 23 yet? Is it EVER going to get here? I keep praying to hear the school bus arrive out front...but aack. Not yet.

Amanda's still blissfully gay. Though, she'll admit it isn't quite the same as a male/female relationship. She said that Hilary acts like she's got PMS every single day. I told her that women are catty, and this is just the way it is. Men let us push them around. Women...know better. They beat us at our own game. This is why most of my friends have penises. (What's the plural for penis. Penii?)

Hmmm. What else. OH! OH!!!

So yesterday, I walk past the couch. (I rarely sit on my ass and watch tv, if I'm on my ass, it's right here servicing you.) I thought to myself...hmmm. Something smells odd. So, I of course bend down to figure it out, andI smell the unmistakeable smell of death. Methane, friends...it's not a pleasent gas. I said "Honey...the couch smells. Find out why." Jas says "Hmmm...no. You do it. I already know it smells, and I've been avoiding you finding out for the last several hours."

ASS.

First, I take off all the cushions. Nothing there. Then, I stand on the springs, so that Alex (6yr old) can see if there's anything under the cushions. Nothing there. Then, I have Jas flip it up on it's back so I can see underneath it. Of course there's fabric covering all of that. Out comes the scissors, there's no more fabric covering that. Still nothing there. Now, I've got great big industrial strength dishwashing gloves on, and I'm digging around with my hands in there, with the collar of my t-shirt over my face so I can smell my perfume, and not the dead whatever that's in the couch.

This went on for a good hour, and I never did find anything in the couch. There is no surface where something could have gone, and me not find it. I'm thinking that the cat mortally wounded a mouse and it somehow managed to hide itself in there and die. I'm a little pissed because I just bought the couch about 8 months ago, and wasn't really budgeting in another who knows how much for a new couch. I know how decomposition works in humans, but there are always variables that you don't and/or can't account for to get to the specifics of the decomposition and its due course.

But on a mouse? Who's studied this?! I mean, will my couch always smell like dead mouse, or is it just best to cut my loss and get it the hell out of here?!

For those interested, the Perseid Meteor Shower will peak for the first time this summer this morning in just a few hours. Nasa's site says that it'll peak between 2am EST and dawn, and other news services I've read tonight say it'll be at its peak around 4isham.

Ok. I'm outta here. I'm going to bed, and I'll see y'all tomorrow.

White Devil...how was the bar?

sdk

I'm Challenged.

2005-08-11T22:29:00.000-04:00

Well...it's official. I'm challenged.

First, and foremost, I want to give a big fat honkin' thank you to I AM SMART ALECK, from A & J Programming (see the link over there----->)

I agree with y'all that it's hard to read. And, in my opinion, it's looking a little scrunched, and it seems like it's harder to navigate. So, I decided I'd make one itttsy bitttsy change to the style sheet, right? How the hell was I supposed to know that changing the color of the style sheet wipes out every image IN the template?!

Uggg. The girl (from BlogFrocks again ---->link thatway) is gone until Monday, so I'm not even sure if I can fix it. I might look for something else, perhaps something a little more colorful and less "I'm gonna getcho ass in trouble if your boss walks by when I'm reading sdk's blog".

This day has been very frustrating. I didn't realize just how stupid I was when it comes to html and css until I met this freakin' template. With the org site, I'm using FrontPage 2003. It does everything FOR you.

Anywho...I'm hopelessly behind on all my blogs, and now I'm not even sure if I like this one. I'm gonna keep lookin' I think.

sdk

Ok. So...

2005-08-11T18:12:00.000-04:00

So the new template is up, and I'll have you know that this was THE BIGGEST PAIN IN THE ASS I've encountered in quite some time.

For whatever reason, I can't get the comments to come up in a pop-up window. I don't know why this is, but we'll try and get er' figured out.

The other thing I'm going to try to do is to change the font color of the body text to white, so that it's easier on the eyes.

Sara from BlogFrocks is also going to make me a sign that says Green Apples From the Sky to go on the picture at the top, and hopefully...this will all work out.

Let me know what you think...

sdk

GRRRRRRRRRR.

2005-08-11T00:33:00.000-04:00

Ok. I have the template I want. I even love the template I want.

However, it's a css and it's royally pissing me off.

If anyone, and I do mean anyone has any clue how to implement the template into a test site, I will be forever grateful to you, and will somehow, someway figure out how you can receive some reciprocation out of the deal.

I got it from blogfrocks.com and I'm SO in need of help. My images aren't showing up, with the exception of a background, and I swear I have it in right, but hell, at this point who knows...

IM/Email me or leave a comment how I can get ahold of you....

Pretty please? I'm begging.

sdk

Cusomblogation

2005-08-10T20:10:00.000-04:00

Since it's apparent I've actually made some good friends, had a little fun with this blog, actually look forward to coming to it I think it's safe to say that it's worth putting a little work into cause I actually plan on being here for a while. I've done the blog deal once before and it lasted for all of a week.

So, I'm thinking quite seriously of customizing it with a nice little theme to set me apart from every other blog out there.

So here's some questions for you guys:

1: Is the white on black too hard to read or should I go with a lighter color?
2: Boys...if I go with something girly are you going to quit stopping by?

Those are really all the questions. If I put something up and you think it's icky, tell me. I'll either rip your head off or change it...one or the other.

sdk

Pissed Off Putty-Tat

2005-08-10T15:37:00.000-04:00

Remember your introduction to Hagrid, our new kitten?

Well, Hagrid (commonly referred to as little cat) has fleas. We're not talking like 4-5 fleas, we're talking like 4-5 HUNDRED fleas. I gave little cat a bath last night (much to his dismay) and picked off about 100 of the little bastards.

Today, he's still scratching like mad, so I gave him another one. And, this afternoon, after he's dried off completely, and the colonies have built their new condo's on different areas of his little body, he'll likely get another one.

You ask, sdk? Why don't you give him a flea bath, and call it good? My answer? Last time I did that, the kitten in question got pneumonia, racked up a 700 dollar vet bill and died anyway. We'll not be putting flea bath stuff on the kitten until he's old enough to have his nuts whacked off. (And yeah, I'm really going to do that to him.)

So, here is our 6 year old's photo shoot of the incident, with monologue from yours truly.

Hagrid meets bubbles.

Hagrid meets the faucet with a real attitude. He's very, very pissed off about this.

Hagrid gets transferred from the tub to my toweled lap. Again, not happy.

Hagrid calls mommy a bastard nazi. Only bastard nazi's would do this to a kitten, he says.

Mommy squeezes Hagrid's icky little friends, plucks them off, and into the garbage they go.

What IS it with tenants now-a-days?!

2005-08-09T21:54:00.000-04:00

Do you remember me telling you that I now get to be in charge of screening new potential tenants for the next door apartment?

Uggh.

So, today, we get an application from a woman named Betty Davis. No, not THE Betty Davis, but A Betty Davis, nonetheless. She is really sweet, somewhat strange, but all in all, I like her, right?

I ask the question. Do you have anything in your criminal or financial past that I need to be aware of. She says "You won't find a thing on me."

Uh huh. She was wrong.

I find that she's got a big, fat, honkin embezzlment case hanging over her head of which she was just released from prison last year. Her ex-husband is doing time for all of the following: Homicide, Assault with intent to do great bodily harm less than murder, grand larceny, larceny over $100, Assault with a deadly weapon, weapons - carrying w/o permit and controlled substance violations.

OOOOH, and the best part, he gets out in September. Why wouldn't we want him hanging around?

We'll be passing on that tenant. NEXT.

This just in, Mr. DK is on strike. Apparently, I didn't read his mind that he wanted nookie for the last two nights, didn't give it up, so when I went to kiss him a little bit ago, he turns his head and says "Uh, I think not. I'm on strike." I said "What? You don't belong to a union. There will be no strikes here." He says "I do too. The preacher said "This Holy Union" when he married us. I'm in a union, and so are you. So there." I sighed. "Yes, but who breaks ties in voting, since we both hold 50 percent of the voting power?" He said "The kids. Only you can only subpoena the ones who can talk."

Note to self...we'll not be kissing Mr. DK anymore. Entirely too much hassle.

I thought we'd do a fun new little countdown for my sister. To give her the benefit of the doubt, we'll go 14 glorious days back from the day she called and came out of the closet full of men where she spent the first 21 years of her life (and let me just say that must be a HUGE freakin' closet). I just want to get a running tally of just how long it takes her to go from gay back to super-tramp. So you will start seeing a glaringly bright number at the bottom of all my posts. I just want you to know, too...that for you I will be suffering. Anything that forces me to speak to my sister every day is just heinous. However, for y'all, I'll bite that proverbial bullet and call just to get the scoop for you every single day.

Hmmm...what else happened today? OH. Gram came over. I love my Gram, don't get me wrong, but why can't she call first?! Why can't she call and say "Honey, I'm coming over to inspect every crevice of your home. If it's not clean, I'll not say anything to you about it, but what I do say will get back to you through all the friends and family I've told it to. By the way, when I say that your home looks nice, what I mean is that I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm afraid to sit on your couch for fear that with all the dog hair that it will jump up and bite me."

I mean, wouldn't it be easier than pretending that she's on the up and up?

sdk

GLORIOUS Days since my little sister found out she was gay. (see the Girl on Girl action post for more details.)

Man, I Feel Like A Woman!

2005-08-08T20:47:00.000-04:00

Again, this post has nothing to do with the last post. So if that's what you're thinkin...you may want to just go read the last post because you'll be woefully sad after reading this one. I just like to trip you up with such titles.

Ladies, you ever notice how if you're in your pj's, with scary hair, and a bare face, you just don't perform up to your full potential? It's like somehow, your professionality suffers a meltdown if it doesn't peer through mascara coated eyelashes.

I've been suffering the "work from home" blahs. I mean, if I'm not going to the office, what the hell is the point of getting all cute? It's not like I'm trying to impress the kids...they wouldn't care if I had dreadlocks and a peculiar body odor so long as their Cookie crisp makes it to the table by 9, their pb&j makes it to the table by 1 and that I'll keep their watergun refill bucket full and restocked on the back porch.

This damn org website is giving me a run for my money. As previously stated, I hate "under construction" messages on a website. There's little more irritating to me than that. And, I've barely left the house since I started the project.

So, today I went and got my nails did, ermmm...I mean manicured. My make-up is damn near perfect, my hair is cute, and while I may not have on my black power suit, I did discover that a pair of my favorite worn out jeans look even cuter as favorite worn out capris. And they fit just a little better, I think, than before I got all empregnated with #3.

So, hoo-ha for me.

Did I get more done because of my girliness? No. But, I feel good anyway.

sdk