Back To School

School begins again in two weeks. I realize that some of you are anxious for the kiddies to return to the classroom but during the summer I get to sleep in a couple of extra hours each day.

I am getting older and I NEED that extra beauty sleep God Damn It!

I printed the school supplies list off of the Internet and I will be meeting with the bank manager to secure the loan that will be necessary very soon. Two pages of very specific supplies. I am still trying to figure out what she is going to do with 30 boxes of baby wipes and 30 cans of Lysol.

Are the kids THAT dirty and stinky?

I am happy that the Princess's teacher is the same woman she had in 1st grade. Not only is she very nice, she effectively communicates via Internet daily posts. For working mom's like me, that is a beautiful thing. It is nice that she acknowledges that all the kids don't have professional dads and soccer moms despite the hefty tuition.

I think as a teacher it would drive me crazy having all those moms grilling me about their kids every single fucking day but I guess if you came from a school with no parental interaction, it might be nice.

For a day or two.

Then I would imagine you'd miss the junky dads and crack whore moms that stay the hell out of your classroom and don't question every fucking aspect of the lesson plan.

I don't hate SAHMs by any means. It is a great gig if you can get it. They feel like they are very in tune to every aspect of their kids lives.

Of course, being me, I found it necessary to smack down that theory during a Girl Scout "High Tea" recently.

At the end of high tea which consisted of PB&J finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off, the moms and daughters were handed a blank piece of paper.

"We are going to play a game", the leader bubbled. "It is called who knows their daughter the best. We will follow that with who knows their mom the best."

I have to be honest, I fucking panicked. Here I am in a room with SAHMs who live and breath their kids. I would imagine they rarely throw the kid last night's left over pizza for breakfast or simply turn the uniform shirt inside out when they forget to wash it.

20 questions for each of us.

What is your child's favorite TV show.

What is your daughter's favorite color.

Favorite thing to do with Mom.

Blah Blah.

Princess and I got 18/20 and 17/20. The closest soccer mom had 13.

We rock.

Something to be said for quality time. Or perhaps merely paying attention.

Sorry to bore you all today. We'll talk more about oral sex next week.

Last night I traded SCM oral sex for a Doggy Loo. Does that make me a slut? What if I said I got him to throw in the extra grass?

Things that are pissing me off.

It occurs to me that my first husband is turning 50 this year. What the fucking fuck?! Sorry kids but 50 is fucking old no matter how you look at it. Funny how I still see him with the long hair blow under and bell bottoms. I remember how at 16, this 23 year old with a kewl cuda convertible and great taste in rock n roll was the end all be all of my existence for ten years. Now for the life of me, I can't even fathom what I saw in him. Couples that can meet young and stay and grow together for years have my utmost respect. I just can't see it.

In addition, the things that annoy me most about my son is the shit he got from his Dad. Little quarks that I found so endearing years ago. Now I feel like slapping both of them on principal.

Sign.

To make matters worse, my father turned 65 this year. 65. That is a fucking senor citizen! His hair is going grey but he still has a lot of it and in no way seems that...dare I say it again? OLD.

By the time my parents were my age, I had made them grandparents for the first time. Fortunately, I don't think I have anything to be concerned about as far as that goes.

I can't get the fucking kid out of the house, let alone responsible enough to support a family. When he stops stealing his baby sisters quarters for burritos at Taco Bell, I'll start worrying about learning to knit baby blankets.

Well......no, but it sounds nice. I'll just buy them from a designer store, rip off the tags and swear I got arthritis making the fucking things.

To continue: With SCM back, my pantry is now too fucking neat and I can't stand it. Canned goods on one shelf, boxed below it, cereal opened in front, unopened in back....who the hell can live that way?

I forgot to pay the pool guy and make my car payment. Apparently both of these companies got a little testy at my oversight. I mean it isn't that I don't have the actually funds...I just didn't distribute them in a timely manner. Shit happens so fuck off.

AND the spare dog shit on my fucking pillow yesterday.

See ya later, I need a mimosa to even consider getting on with this day.

A thought.

It really is true that the older you get, the faster time goes by bringing you closer and closer to death and decay.

Now you all go and have a great weekend..ya hear?

When I think of vacation, I tend to imagine five star accommodations, room service, gourmet meals, shopping, museums, maybe a play or two. Sometimes I think of a luxury cruise with stewards and waiters to do my bidding.

Tennessee Smoky Mountains? Not so much.

But that was the plan devised by the family with a shrug and whatever by me.

Whatever indeed.

What I was not considering at the time was that:

1. It is July.

2. Mountains involve hiking.

3. Mountains go up.

I spent most of the vacation waving and saying God Bless.

The rented "cabin" was nice. The only thing cabin about it was that it was made of wood and was unpainted. We all had king sized beds and private commodes. I was able to rough my way through that with nary a complaint.

They did convince me to go white water rafting which was more like stagnant creek pushing. There is currently a drought in Tennessee and the rocks that usually lay unnoticed at the bottom, are now part of an obstacle course. Oh, don't get me wrong, we still had to paddle our asses off to get around said rocks. Which of course led to painful arms and shoulders.

So here I am. Done with vacation. All my nails are broken, my arms, legs and shoulders hurt and I have a sunburn.

Next time Club Fucking Med.

Toilet Seats, Electicity and Stupid Employees.

The CEO of my company came in earlier today with an elongated toilet seat in hand. Now personally I would think any conversation would begin with the explanation of a grown man carting around the hat of a porcelain pony. But alas he simply inquired what time the board meeting was going to take place that afternoon.


"4pm and nice bracelet"


"Oh yeah, I was going up to reception to find out why this thing was on my desk."


My horror was abated when he explained it was new and clean when it was placed on the center of his desk.


Turns out maintenance ordered rest room parts and my brilliant receptionist decided that the CEOs office was the perfect place to put the new hiney platform.


In the immortal words of Forest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

I am usually the last person to leave my office each night. I enjoy the peace and quiet of the place without hormonal women bitching about everything from torn pantyhose to who is fucking whose boyfriend and why. As I walked around turning up the AC and flicking off the lights, an annoying thing happened. One of the lights would not go out. I flicked the switch, a flicker and right back on.

Hmmmm.

Fortunately, this particular light is controlled by two switches, one on either wall. So I calmly crossed the room and flicked the other one. Same thing.

Double hummm.

Somewhere in my dysfunctional upbringing I must have heard horror stories about electricity and fires because things like this scare the shit out of me.

I refused to leave the light on and needed to figure out how to turn the circuit breaker off until the electrician could be called the next day. The next problem is how to know which breaker controls the light since the breaker box is on the other end of the floor and I won't be able to see if I start flicking breakers which lights go out. Yeah know, because what would the builders actually label the fucking things. That would make far too much sense.

I catch one of the employees in the parking lot, drag them back in to watch, call their cell and start flicking.....finally, the light goes out.

I call the electrician, leave a message and head home.

This morning I came in and the lights are on. Since I left a note not to turn on the lights and that the electrician had been called, I assumed he showed up.

I would be wrong.

I was informed that it was only the circuit breaker and a very industrious employee figured this out and switched it back on.

Sigh.

I was dreading the family reunion taking place next week in Tennessee that I will be attending but right now if it is a choice of these numnutz or the numnutz that are of my blood, I'll choose family any old day.

See you all July 28th. Keep a light burning but only if it won't cause a fire.

Stinky Cheese Man rides back into town having traded his black hat for white with a plan to chip away at the 100 Reasons why I hated the smelly fucker.

Doesn't he understand that I have no material for my blog if he kisses my ass, makes awesome meals, pay the bills and keep the house spotless?

What a selfish bastard.

I am a couple of weeks late. No, I don't mean for high tea at Buckingham Palace, I mean I should have begun bleeding from the crotch many many days ago.

Since I had my tubes cut, burned, tied off and kicked around the floor by the surgical staff, it is very unlikely that a little SCM is cooking. However, since one of his husbandly responsibilities include servicing his wife every night, he noticed that Aunt Flo hasn't been around lately.

Not that he is complaining about the nightly workout but he did ask expectantly if it is possible that our little family could soon include another eating, sleeping, shitting machine.

I pictured this little bald headed, ugly baby with my bad attitude and SCMs horrible sense of humor and gasped. We lucked out with our 9 year old daughter. Fortunately, she is nothing like either of us.

She is actually sweet, funny, loving and generous.

I wouldn't dare tempt fate again.